Blaze toasts cheese and the semi it was in

— from the Deseret Morning News, published: Oct. 20, 2007 12:08 a.m. MDT.

I cannot even comment because I must sit and weep awhile. OHHHHH – charred CHEESE, melted TRUCK! And this was near the Heber Valley – the Dairy Eden of Utah; what must the poor cows be thinking?

Then, back to the brightly coloured pages of the catalog. I must be very honest with you. The Wisconsin Cheeseman® Holiday catalog has a myriad of “corporate” style gift packs – overwhelming displays of cheeses, sausages, crackers and spreads in cheerfully decorated boxes. They often contain, to the chagrin of the true turophile, quite a few cheese “spreads” in lovely foil with misleadingly foreign names that are actually comprised of “pasteurized process cheese food.” Cheese food? That’s just wrong.

One must ignore the “mega-gift-pack” route and take a look at the natural cheese that they make or buy. This is the tantalizing part. Aged cheddar, Longhorn Colby, Country white cheddar, award-winning Provolone, aged cheddar, an aged bleu cheddar (I lust after this one),baby Swiss, ball Gouda, an aged Parrano, artisan rosemary-flavoured white cheddar, REAL brick cheese (made by the ONLY company that still makes authentic brick cheese – they use third generation bricks for pressing), cranberry white cheddar – I could go on and on. They do make some of their own spreads, which I’m guessing are lovely. They also peddle some scrumptious-looking baked goods, including petits fours (I LOVE petits fours). They even carry St. Dalfour’s Conserves (fruit preserves sweetened only with fruit juice – DELICIOUS and JUST FRUIT – P.S. you can buy them locally at a lower price).

There was, however, an artisan cheese that initially gave me pause:

This is Manteche Artisan Cheese. Here’s an excerpt of the catalog description:

Artisans hand-shape warm whole-milk Provolone around a half pound block of unsalted butter. The mild cheese and butter share their flavors as this delicacy ripens.

Cheese filled with BUTTER? Is this excessive decadence? Is this dairy ostentatiousness?

Then I thought about it for a bit. A thin slice of this cheese on an excellent bread? Now that sounds decadently DELICIOUS.

Notwithstanding, I thought it was likely that in bleak times – perhaps WORLD WAR II – cheese might have gone the way of rubber and sugar and stockings. But I wandered upon something that confirmed to me that cheese is always and forever important.

Here is a blurb from The Stars and Stripes, Volume 3, Number 8, Page 2 dated Tuesday, November 10, 1942. I’ll put it in historical perspective a little later:

Let me give you a transcription of this item, as the scans I was researching are deliberately crap so that you’ll order pricey originals. Not ME; I will just read more carefully. Anyhoo, here is the text:

Mrs. Anna Juchs won an uncontested divorce after testifying that her husband kept Limburger cheese under their bed.

While, as a noted turophile, I agree that it is inappropriate to keep ANY cheese under one’s bed, particularly – uhm – really strong-smelling cheese (it’s also inharmonious in terms of Feng Shui), I don’t see how funky cheese in the boudoir is grounds for an uncontested divorce. But what do I know.

This little bon mot, incidentally, was found in the Hush Marks section (gotta love that name) of the paper. If you’d like to see it in it’s original context, you can download the whole edition for Tuesday, November 10, 1942 right here.

My favourite thing about this whole cheese tidbit is that Sunday, November 8, 1942 marked the beginning of “Operation Torch” (part of Operation Blackstone), Patton’s convoy assault on the Algerian coast (my Grandfather was a military intelligence expert on Patton’s staff; he certainly had a bunch of near misses during this time). Consequently, The Stars and Stripes broke the news concerning this important offensive in the November 9, 1942 edition (and for the rest of the week).

What sort of interesting serendipity led me to a cheese item during the investigation of World War II campaigns? The cheese faeries move in mysterious ways.

And then there’s my new-born fascination with the idea that I might have Amish Ancestors (because in my Euro-mutt mix there are ancestors with the right type of names who emigrated from Europe at just the right time and came to precisely the right county in Pennsylvania…). Perhaps the fact that I’d just finished reading Plain Truth had something to do with it. OR it was performing in the Amish musical in high school oh-so-many years ago (Plain and Fancy).

THEN I became very interested in seeing if I could figure out which of my ancestors died of the “Black Death” – well, and obviously somebody survived, too, so I thought I’d try and figure out who those hardy folks were. Maybe the fact that I’m reading a book about the medieval plague has something to do with that.

Yes, I purchased this book on purpose. I like variety. For instance, I packed Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and the well-known Elie Wiesel (Founding Chairman of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum) Trilogy – Night, Dawn and Day – for the Park City Short Course.

But I have realized that there was a much more pressing issue. There should and must be a handbook for any and all interactions with me – Crazy Kate, Kate the Safety Dog, Crazy Heathen Aunt Kate, plain Kate, And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst – any and all variations of Kate (don’t forget Jessica Biel). It might prove very helpful to the few people I encounter when I manage to leave the house. Because I feel great pity for them. Oh – I feel very sorry for them indeed.

This comprehension was hastened by painful realizations I’ve been having over time culminating into an epiphany of grand proportions on Friday. That night I subjected an old friend who I had not seen in well over a decade to what could only be described as a protracted stream-of-consciousness epic nightmare complete with sweeping hand gestures (dangerously close to poking out his eyes) and many “Uh – thanks for sharing” moments.

I’ll use great restraint and make these instructions short and sweet. Okay, I’ll TRY to use great restraint and make these instructions short and sweet:

1. When the stream-of-consciousness has starts to look like a scenically transcontinental – NOT express – train that is derailing (which it WON’T – I must assure you that despite all appearances it will keep going even though by all rights it should dive right off the track and explode into a conflagration of unequaled proportions – it is the LITTLE TRAIN OF THOUGHT (thought?) that COULD), please feel free to use a gently halting phrase. I suggest, “Shut up, Kate.” It needn’t be shouted, just stated in a resolute and firm tone. “Shut up, Kate.” It’s not mean, I promise you; it’s a matter of self-preservation.
2. There’s also, “Get out of the car, Kate.” Same thing – not yelled, not desperate – just a firm, resolute, “Get out of the car, Kate.” Throw in a “please” for fun if you’re so inclined, but strictly speaking, in these emergency situations it is not compulsory.
3. No excuses are necessary. I understand what I’m like right now (though I prefer to delude myself into thinking that this was not ALWAYS so) and I’d rather everyone just told it like it was. You needn’t say, “My bladder might explode if I don’t get to a bathroom very soon,” unless, of course, it’s the truth. I’ll even take, “My head might explode if I don’t get some rest VERY SOON.”
4. A fun change of pace could be a finger to my lips à la Dianne Wiest in Bullets Over Broadway with a, “No, no, don’t speak. Don’t speak. Please don’t speak. Please don’t speak…”

That’s all. I’m open to suggestions if I’ve neglected anything.

It occurs to me that this entry should be dedicated to Grettir, who, more than anyone else (I’m not disregarding my family, I just seem to be more deranged when I leave the house), has patiently suffered through, well, about twenty years of my day-to-day type lunacy and has, even more admirably, had the forbearance to still associate with me during what I might label my non compos mentis epoch. Thank you, Grettir.

But, from mes experts français well – rather mon cher expert français I have the final word(s). So, as you can see, I have AT LAST (I hope) correctly molded my title to make the French happy (I say as though “The French” are a key demographic who give a damn about my writing). We’ll just see what Google makes of this.

Now on to SCIENCE! I explained that Shirleen had been implanted with a spinal stimulating device so that we can direct her every move by remote control so that she can control her pain with a remote control. Unfortunately, this is one of those procedures that results in horrific pain in order to eventually control chronic, wretched, debilitating pain. They cannot actually switch on the device until her surgical recovery is complete. In the meantime, she is, “Lumpy, stripy and bruised.” (And SHE, being a sophisticate, pronounced BOTH syllables of “bruised” when she gave me the report over the phone. Well done.)

At least while she was in the hospital she was entertained and tutored in life by her “EIGHTY-EIGHT-YEAR-OLD” roommate (who either sang that information or related it in an extremely adamant manner – I’m not sure which). She did sing songs, regaled Shirleen with sage advice and stories, and made her laugh (which was painful, unfortunately).

The most amazing tidbit was, I think, this life-changing advice about relationships:

If you really love a man you give him an enema.

I, for one, am stupefied. Shirleen and I both concluded that the fact we never knew about this dictum, and therefore had never followed it as a guideline, explained a great deal about our lives in general. If only we had known. HOW COULD WE HAVE KNOWN?

We’ll just have to move forward now, armed with this crucial knowledge. I’m just wondering how one infuses the willingness to administer this essential (I guess?) medical procedure – as a sign of affection – into a computer dating bio. And people wonder why I don’t leave the house that much. Don’t you see? I have very grave matters to ponder.

Oooooh – back to the science. Once the nice doctors do turn Shirleen on (DON’T GO THERE, YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHAT I MEAN) she gets to control her device with a wireless Bluetooth® remote. Oh yes, she has Bluetooth® connectivity. That certainly gives new meaning to the slogan, “Experience hands-free in so many ways.”

I’m already trying to decide what I might do with my Bluetooth® headset (find out what one’s crazy spine sound like?). And I have a Bluetooth® mouse. I LOVE the idea that I could somehow incite funky chicken dances or the the like with that implement. My dad’s PDA has Bluetooth® connectivity. Perhaps we could upload data directly into her spinal column. The possibilities are ENDLESS!

Your suggestions would be appreciated.

Optimus Prime*

Instead, she wants some much-needed relief from the constant back and neck pain, as well as the substantial discomfort from the nerve damage resulting from having an emergency diskectomy and then having her lumbar vertebrae fused (she has a cage in there – sounds a tad kinky). As it is, I envision her spine comprised wholly of a hodgepodge of crumbly cheese. That would be an interesting diagnosis: “I’m so sorry, Miss Appropriation, but you have crumbly cheese hodgepodge spine; it’s quite tasty yet unfortunately rather debilitating.”

No one deserves liberation from the constant torment more than Shirleen; she has the highest pain threshold of any human being I’ve ever met. Therefore, when she admits to a high level of “discomfort,” shall we say, you know it must hurt like HELL.

I believe this is the implant she received:

Spinal Cord Stimulating Device

Some of these apparatuses have JOYSTICKS; that’s too cool. Part of the device is affixed into a small nook of painstakingly scraped-out bone somewhere above Shirleen’s lumbar fusion (and I didn’t think she had any more bone in her spine – I guess I was mistaken). The other portion is placed in her “flank” (their phrase, not mine). There are leads that extend from the device that help stimulate the key pain-causing nerves. They determine this placement with a trial run device (which she already had implanted and removed).

Once the surgical wounds heal, the joystick or controller is used to tune in specific frequencies that cancel the pain impulses. Oh, YES – this is superlative SCIENCE.

Hearty congratulations on finally jumping through all the hoops to receive your robot implant, Shirleen (I should inform everyone that there has been no actual jumping, per se – this would have not only been ill-advised in terms of increasing potential physical damage, but prohibitively and excruciatingly torturous). No one could be more deserving.

And, just in case, please keep us apprised of any possible super-powers. There’s got to be a SLIGHT chance, right?

*I only know this “Optimus Prime” crap because of the TRUTH – the inside scoop about the Transformers. This film has been ostensibly marketed in conjunction with the sales of children’s toys. Rubbish.

The target demographic for this movie is MEN IN THEIR THIRTIES! They know everything about the “epic battle” between “the heroic Autobots and the evil Decepticons.” And while they are bathing in the nostalgic glow of childhood reminiscences, their spouses, partners and/or girlfriends sit baffled – trying to figure out which robots are the “bad guys” or the “good guys.” I’ve had first-hand reports of this phenomenon from trusted sources.

Yet, before you think my current obsession is TOO loony cuckoo-bananas, please bear in mind that it’s at least THEMATIC. In fact, it’s cheese themed. If that’s not appropriate for this site, I don’t know what it (I really DON’T know what is, but let us ignore that fact for the moment).

I shall further explain (“You SHALL?” they ask, their mouths agape in incredulity). Oh, SHUT UP. Here’s the thought process: I am already an affiliate of CheeseSupply.com, where you can fill all your exotic cheese fantasies (NOTE: I’m not putting links for the sites for which I’m affiliate because I want you to use the SIDEBAR BANNERS; they are not just aesthetically pleasing, they are FUNCTIONAL). I am also an affiliate at BarnesandNoble.com, where you can purchase cheese tomes and cheese music and cheese films to your heart’s content (and if you think that I cannot suggest cheese music and films, you are sorely mistaken).

Now I’ve added some affiliations to make your fromage reference library complete. You see, if you visit my History Channel link (which also links to other A.&E. Channels, including the Discovery Channel) you could choose films or merchandise related to the world of cheese and cheese history. Very cool.

Then, at Sur La Table you can provide for all you cheese appliance and utensil needs that aren’t fulfilled at CheeseSupply.com. They have a wondrous and extensive collection of slicers and knives and plates and guides and fondue pots and more, MORE, MORE (wow – blast from the past that I shall not endeavor to explain just now). Lastly, I must provide information for your travel needs; there are so many prime cheese destinations! Until I instigate my “Tour of the World Through Cheese,” which would entail me getting my first passport and everything, we’ll stick to the more holistic but reliable travel guide – Zagat. For a low, LOW price you can get approximately a trillion reviews and recommendations (I am, perhaps, misquoting just a tad) for a blissful travel experience. Now you are all set!

I feel I should now mention the one negative experience in my recent affiliation bender. Harry & David TURNED MY APPLICATION DOWN. Nope – they did not want ME as their affiliate. I am, apparently, not posh enough for their tastes (this vendor who sells a product called “MOOSETRACKS” at greatly inflated prices). I was loathe to provide a link to their site, but I am a good web citizen – SO THERE.

Come ON, Harry & David; you have an OUTLET STORE. I have been there. AND I have been to your full-price posh mall store, too. AND I get your catalog.

Well, you’ll just have to get someone ELSE to feature your “Deluxe Pearsnapples and Cheese” gift collection. By the way, H & D, “Pearsnapples” is a STUPID term. It makes it sound like you’ve come up with some fancy new genetic hybrid and you’ve named it BADLY; IF you had a hybrid I think that “Apears,” “Pearpples,” “Papples,” “Applears,” or even “Pearapple” would be far superior monikers. As it is, you are evidently too POSH to accept me as an affiliate, and you are too fancy-schmancy to follow through and use the label “Pears n’ Apples.” Snots.

All noted turophiles know that it’s YOUR loss, H & D.

Hey KAte-

Can you find me some place to buy blueberry bluecheese? I have had no luck. We had it that one time at the Juhl house, but haven’t ever seen it since.

The untimely demise of the Juhl Haus was a tragedy, indeed. Nonetheless, Smash, I CAN help you find that very product. Moreover, if you purchase it THROUGH me, I will get a cut of the profits!

WHAAAAT??? One may ask? Well, as any self-respecting TUROPHILE blogger would do, I have become a CHEESE affiliate. Oh yes. No Amazon affiliation for ME (it’s so DONE – sorry, My Friends). OKAY – so I am a Barnes and Noble Affiliate (not that I’m not an Amazon and everywhere else shopper), but I think the interface at Barnes and Noble is much prettier.

Back to the CHEESE, of course. I am a CheeseSupply.com affiliate (and YES, please use my affiliate links from my right-hand sidebar if you’d like to buy some CHEESE or Cheese supplies or even books and Barnes and Noble).

CheeseSupply.com has a HUGE and varied selection (the largest I’ve seen), which impressed me, and they always have something on sale. The thing that REALLY impressed me, though, was that when I had difficulty obtaining their “raw datafeed” – I’m actually considering my own Cheese Shoppe storefront – I sent an email to them. And what do you know, THEY CALLED ME! I didn’t catch the call, so they LEFT A MESSAGE. How’s that for service? That was a while ago. Hmmm. I should RETURN that call.

Anyhoo, YES, Smash, I can help you find a lovely blueberry blue-cheese. I think what we had at Juhl Haus was a Blueberry Stilton. Ah ha! What do you know? If you click on of the links in my right-hand sidebar (either the moving banner for CheeseSupply.com OR one of the three cheeses on special right now) you will get to the webpage. There, if you search by “blueberry” you will find that they carry “White Stilton with Blueberry Truckle” – essentially the same thing we had. And it looks just DELICIOUS. It is an English cheese, which surely, is the ONLY kind of Stilton one should trust, as it’s named after an English village – where, ironically, it has never been made. It is produced nearby in three local counties and is only licensed to be produced IN THOSE COUNTIES by one of six strictly-audited dairies.

So, if you NEED cheese (and one does not “want” cheese, one NEEDS cheese), PLEASE purchase your cheese through me!

Ah, yes. That’s SMASHING.

That reminds me; thank you,Smashly! I only steal from the best.

My only criticism is that his cheese selection is a little pedestrian. Oh – my second criticism (only one, TWO criticisms of the Fourteen-Entry Cheese Parade) is that “those little cheese rounds that come wrapped in red wax,” which he eventually identified as edam – with a link to DUTCH edam – are a version of FRENCH edam from The Laughing Cow Company® – a French company, naturally. The small rounds are from their “Babybel®” line. “Original” Babybel® comes covered in the familiar red wax. In my opinion (as a NOTED Turophile), Babybel® “edam” doesn’t have the extra “bite” of Dutch edam. I think it tastes more like gouda (originally Dutch as well) – which, ironically, they also make, but shroud in uglier wax so that everyone buys the RED WAX kind so that they don’t taste the “gouda” and have to decide that it tastes more like… Okay, I haven’t had THEIR gouda, only the “original” Babybel® rounds, so I could not, in all honestly, render an expert opinion.

In conclusion, THIS is the Wikipedia link he should have used. But anyone who can hold a cheese cavalcade of FOURTEEN cheeses in just a few days should be lauded and honoured.

Hence, a vast Huzzah to the CHEESE PAGEANT WINNER FOR NOVEMBER! All fitting lauds and honours are duly conferred upon you.

Many thanks to Grettir for the “heads up.” I’ve had some reason to doubt his existence at the moment, but who else would be thoughtful enough to forward me great cheese links from his email address. A most clever body-snatcher THEY’D have to be.

Occasionally, I manage to extricate myself from a fetal position, and have a thought – perhaps even a cogent notion – which I would define that as anything other than, “What the…????” I mull over different prospects for my future, and if I take extra medication, I may come up with a number of possibilities that don’t trigger uncontrollable weeping.

For instance, I could go back to school and get a Master’s Degree (something I’d always intended to do before I spent approximately twenty years getting my bachelor’s degree and was so exhausted that the prospect of taking another class EVER seemed like horrific TORTURE – and I say that having learned more and more about ACTUAL methods of torture). If I were a more persuasive person, I’d have a Master’s by DEFAULT. That’s how many credits I have. Finances make that one a stretch, not to mention WHAT IN THE HELL WOULD I STUDY? Would I keep up the fine arts pursuit? Would I go back to anthropology (I double-majored in Vocal Performance and Anthropology for a while – this should explain a lot about my efficiency and decision-making abilities)? To make any of it lucrative would I have to get the Ph.D., too (as a child a ASSUMED I’d do this – my Father is a professor after all)?

I had a therapist who kept calling my job as an Office Coordinator my “career.” She was skilled, qualified and helpful in many respects, but I really thought I’d slap her upside the head if she said that one more time. She didn’t seem to understand that – yes – that’s the kind of job I had done for years to make ends meet (or attempted to make ends meet), and, moreover, the possibility existed that I’d ALWAYS have such a “Joe Job” (in the Arts this is the flippant way of saying, “Job that actually entails a consistent wage, health insurance and additional benefits”). Ugh. Yes, there are, no doubt, many “Joe Jobs” in store for me. However, that’s only if I become more clever and don’t say “verklempt” in West Valley – and if I’m even SMARTER and don’t GET verklempt in West Valley (I suppose I should add that the interviewers actually likedmy and my verklempt-itude (?) didn’t have anything to do with my not getting the position).

I’ve also considered going back to school and getting a teaching certificate. Again, finances make the option of ANY schooling far-fetched currently. And then, of course, there’s the galling reality that I would have worked hard to earn certification on top of my Bachelor’s Degree so that I could go and make considerably LESS money than I did at my last “Joe Job.” I don’t refute that teaching is important. I don’t deny that I’ve had very gratifying and fulfilling experiences while teaching. I’m just asserting that TEACHERS SHOULD MAKE MORE THAN OFFICE COORDINATORS AND ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANTS AND TRUCK DRIVERS. Not to mention the fact that this State has the dubious honour of ranking 51 (yes, that’s correct, 51) in per pupil expenditures. On the other hand, from what I just read, we’ve managed to rank very CONSISTENTLY in terms of per pupil expenditures. And being consistent is like being RELIABLE…

Wait – TRUCK DRIVERS! According to late-night TV commercials, certainly the most trustworthy form of media in the WORLD, I could be a truck driver in only SIX WEEKS! And the wages and benefits are INSTANTLY wondrous AND, what’s more, I could shower at a TRUCK STOP! Since, at the moment, my shower head is broken, that has a certain allure to it.

But I should get to the meat of the matter – or should I say CHEESE. Almost a month ago, Grettir sent me a link to The Cheese School of San Francisco. Yes, you read that correctly CHEESE SCHOOL. Could there be a more perfect aspiration for a turophile than to attend CHEESE SCHOOL?

And not only is it CHEESE SCHOOL, but San Francisco is a fascinating locale (very close to my birthplace, actually) AND they are practically flooded with excellent cheese shoppes. Oh JOY and RAPTURE!!! The prospect of CHEESE SCHOOL lifted me from my mundane existence to a Beauteous Shangri-La of Dairy BLISS.

Alas – I must impart that reality eventually set it. I’ve already mentioned finances as an issue in consideration of possible life endeavors. Living in the Bay Area is so prohibitively expensive that I would no doubt have less trouble buying a yacht and living in the French Riviera. With a cabin boy named Raoul catering to my every need… Hmmm. That’s a nice fantasy, too.

But – Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh – CHEESE SCHOOL! Can I really dismiss THIS:

The Cheese School of San Francisco is the only institution of its kind in the San Francisco Bay area wholly devoted to helping people maximize their enjoyment of cheese.

The curriculum is designed to satisfy food lovers of all types, from the merely curious, to the serious cheese enthusiast, to the food service professional.

They teach “Fondue” and “The Art of the Cheese Tray,” for crying out loud. On the faculty they have several professional cheese mongers, chefs and culinary experts, an expert on chocolate (why not?), an acclaimed cheese author, and a cheese educator who is also a renowned judge of cheese competitions and a sought-after lecturer on cheese. They are, in their own words, “…just plain crazy about cheese,” and “…positively passionate about cheese.”

If I don’t get there somehow and teach them the word “turophile,” what MEANING will my life have? I might as well be lactose-intolerant (knock-on-wood)!!!

This is why I am hatching a cunning plan. It is SO cunning that other cunning plans bow their wily heads in shame, mortification and degradation at the mere suggestion of MY cunning plan.

Regrettably, I must leave the elucidation of my superlatively cunning plan until later. It would not do to throw such a flawless gem in with all the mucky-muck, interminable rubbish you just read (or didn’t). So, I shan’t bid you any goodbyes, simply au revoir and auf wiedersehen.

Just the other day, my Mother was telling me about Oprah and something very nice she’d done using “whatever the currency is in South Africa.”

“Rand,” I immediately said.

We both had a “what the…???” response to that one (especially because I was correct). Only a day before I’d had to ask her what a “cooked” cheese sandwich was called. I honestly couldn’t remember.

I’ll record THAT phrase here (well – it’s also in the comment I was writing at the time, but – CHEESE – Grommit!) for all posterity, as it is my duty as a noted Turophile:

*NOT

P loves cheese. She would eat a whole brick of it if I let her. Instead I cut up one slice at a time, and she has all the pieces stuffed in her mouth in less than 10 seconds. It scares me because I worry she’ll choke, but it makes me laugh as well.

So Paisley is not only brilliant and beautiful, she is discerning, too. A budding turophile before she even turns one! Here she is with “cheese cheeks:”

And she has just learned to sign for “more,” too:

How cute is that? I am so overcome with the cute-iosity that I know I’d find it rather difficult to deny her the whole block of cheese.

Isn’t it stupendous how she’s gaining the personality traits of her VERY Favourite Aunt day by day? She’s smart, discriminating, has crazy hair, and, sometimes, erratic mood changes (e.g. The Cookie Incident).

Here, for instance, she is very, very MAD at her shoes:

A split second later she is DELIGHTED with her shoes:

Never fear, Charles and Ashley, as the comparisons, no doubt, end there. But I’m still nigh unto blissful about the CHEESE.

It is a little unclear exactly WHAT Anniversary the Ideal Cheese Shop is celebrating. They do say:

Since 1954, we have introduced dozens of exotic cheeses to the American marketplace.
Ideal Cheese Shop has established itself with a reputation of service and knowledge which truly makes it The Ideal Cheese Shop.

How nice, indeed. But most people don’t make all that big a deal of their 52nd Anniversary (I believe the traditional gift for that Anniversary is figs and the Modern alternative is wasabi peas…). The tour of the Ideal Cheese Shop doesn’t elucidate this question any further:

Okay, evidently they changed locations at some point, but they don’t say when. The only thing that occurs to me after seeing this information is the following: IS ED EDELMAN DEAD??? Say that five times really fast with a mouth-full of marbles (no disrespect intended if he HAS passed on).

Ah well, who knows. Discounted cheese is DISCOUNTED CHEESE!!!

What does this have to do with Gloucestershire and Cheese Rolling? I respond to your query with THIS:

This is an “outstanding Double Gloucester with peachy orange tones – the color of a late autumn sunset.” Poetic AND delicious, no doubt. They offer several other Double Gloucestershires as well, but this one just seems like it would ROLL awfully well. The largest increment that they offer is five pounds. I do not know if this constitutes an actual wheel or not, but I’m sure their customer support could be of assistance. In the genuine competition they tumble down that essentially vertical hill after a 7-8 pound wheel of Double Gloucestershire. But I’m sure that, for the novice, five pounds would suffice. As I have a innate capacity to inadvertently fling myself down on pretty much ANY surface, I think I could hurl myself off a precipice after a wheel of cheese VERY ably. This might just be MY sport.

It’s Gloucestershire’s craziest event and there are plenty of daring souls who are willing to risk life and limb to chase after a big Double Gloucester cheese at Cooper’s Hill …

No kidding, competitors from around the world (or at least the UK and evidently some “Kiwis” who were identified in the photo gallery) will chase down this practically VERTICAL hill after a wheel of cheese.

Of all Britain’s weird and wonderful customs and traditions, the annual cheese rolling races at Cooper’s Hill in Gloucestershire must be among the strangest – and certainly the most spectacular.
It takes place every year on Cooper’s Hill near Brockworth in the last weekend of May, and it sees scores of men and women hurtle 200 yards down a near vertical slope in pursuit of a seven-pound Double Gloucester cheese.
Thousands more gather to watch the remarkable spectacle which has been happening almost every year for at least 200 years, and it is believed, possibly many centuries more.

Here, by the way, is bucolic, rustic, pastoral (insert peaceful, countrified adjective here) Gloucestershire (to be pronounced as it only has ONE or TWO syllables rather than four or so):

And in this calm setting, age-old CHEESE-INDUCED INSANITY takes place every year in May. According to retired teacher, Jean Jefferies, who lives on the slopes of Cooper�??s Hill and is writing a book on the history of the cheese rolling races:

It seems that originally the event took place at midsummer. At some point it was moved to Whit Monday and in 1967 it was moved again, with the bank holiday to the last Monday in May.

This year, though the day started out with pleasant weather, it RAINED (in England?????):

As the OFFICIAL Gloucestershire Cheese Rolling Website said, “Just as the first cheese was rolled, down came the rain!” Indeed – and washed the spider out…

Notice the last image (no – not the sumo wrestler people with troll hair – that’s the penultimate image – I mean the one on the far right). Those are paramedics. And they are always close at hand, because there are plenty of injuries (even if it DOESN’T rain):

The two pictures on the left are from this year’s race (the second an image of one of the WINNERS), but the view on the right is of a competitor from 2004 who RENDERED HIMSELF UNCONCIOUS and had to be taken away by ambulance. This is better than rugby; there’s mud, no protective gear is utilized, there are many disfiguring accidents, AND there is CHEESE!

You’ll want to take a look at some of this year’s winners:

Oh, how they hold that cheese aloft with PRIDE. Here’s another winner (from 2004), who I especially like:

She wins, she’s proud, and then, evidently, she’s “knackered.”

I shall now provide you with a few Cheese Rolling Facts:

• Cheese rolling races are believed to have been held at Cooper’s Hill, near Gloucester, for hundreds of years.
• It was already an old tradition in the early 19th century.
• Its roots may lie in ancient fertility rites or hopes of a successful harvest.
• Competitors chase a Double Gloucester cheese weighing 7-8lb.
• During rationing in the Second World War the cheese was replaced by a wooden replica – still with a piece of cheese inside.
• Cooper’s Hill has a gradient of 1 in 2 for most of its height and a precipitous 1 in 1 in places.
• There are four downhill races, one for ladies, and uphill races for children and the really fit.
• The downhill race start point is marked by a maypole topped by a cockerel.
• The 2001 event was cancelled as a result of the foot and mouth crisis.
• The 2003 event was cancelled because of an Earthquake!

To get a REAL feel for this wacky dairy sport, watch Chaotic Race 5 and the Cheese Rolling Montage. Also, check the other pictures HERE. Lastly, check out the OFFICIAL Gloucestershire Cheese Rolling site for this page about past activities connected to the “Cooper’s Hill Wake” (back to the 1800′s). My favourites are “‘grinning (through a horse’s collar) for a cake” and – I kid you not – “shin-kicking!” Now THAT must have been a good time.

Let me just leave you a picture of my most favourite Cheese Rolling fan. He is, evidently, a “regular” at the event:

c="http://kate.tinypineapple.com/cheeserollingregular-thumb.jpg" alt="I am LOVING his bonnet!" width="300" height="214" />

Here’s a little tidbit just in time for Mother’s Day:

You can get a 20% discount on any orders placed at IdealCheese.com from May 6 – 14. AND Cheese of the Month Plans and Gift Baskets make terrific Mother’s Day gifts.

MMMMMMMMmmmmmm. Discount cheese!!!!

Get ready for your Super Bowl 2006
party with some great cheeses from Ideal Cheese at a great reduction!

From Saturday, January 28 through Sunday, February 5, 2006, you can order up to 5 different cheeses, and receive a 20% discount on those.

I KNOW! Were I at all solvent be assured I’d have five breath-taking different cheeses at the house this very minute (if I’d not gobbled them all up before tonight). But, ALAS, I am certainly not “in the chips.” AND, double alas (oh yes I CAN), when I first attempted to post the information I could not access the Ideal Cheese site. Oh, you can imagine (hmmm- don’t try too hard) the foul dairy curses that flew through the air at that moment.

Before I continue, I must stress that the following information is JUST BETWEEN US! I cannot emphasize this point strongly enough. You may ask why. THEY ARE ALWAYS WATCHING AND LISTENING; THAT IS WHY. Shhhhhh!!! You see, Firefox has developed an unfounded animosity for me (I can’t think of a single reason I deserve it) and there is no love lost between Internet Explorer and I (Yes, I HAVE GROWING HATRED FOR IT – shhhhhh!!!). So because I couldn’t access the Ideal Cheese site when I first thought of it, I failed to remember to go back and attempt it again. Yes, I FORGOT. Curses on this brain rattling aimlessly in my mammoth cranium! February Fifth is over, Super Bowl 2006 is over (I presume – and I DO NOT CARE TO WHAT END), so no special and wonderful discount cheese. I can only extend my most humble and sincere apologies to all those affected by this Käse Catastrophe. In addition, I will do my utmost to make certain that such an egregious oversight of a wonderful cheese opportunity will never occur on my blog again.

Cheese – milk’s leap toward immortality. (Clifton Fadiman (1904 – ))

That should really make the bovine population think.

Let me address the issue of my négligence de fromage post-haste:

The Ideal Cheese Shop (they send me cheese-email – I like them) is having an “Around the World Sale!” from July 23 through July 31, 2005 (sorry – slightly late notice). You can “Save more than 20% on the selection of delicious cheeses from around the world.” I think I would lean towards the Il Giardino Reggiano Parmesan, the French Bucheron and the Prima Donna from Holland. But I must admit that I find the “Maytag Blue” from Iowa intriguing (though I’m slightly put off by the whole appliance connection).

URGENT EMGERGENCY CHEESE ANNOUNCEMENT

My very most favourite cheese shoppe, the Juhl Haus Deli and Market, has unexpectedly CLOSED!!! I couldn’t get to their website, and I called the management at Foothill Village and they confirmed the horrible tidings. I am seriously bereaved. There is no equivalent; there isn’t a single place that even could presume take its place. The closest substitute would have to be Liberty Heights Fresh in Salt Lake City; they actually have an impressive cheese selection for such a small market – for any market, really (they also carry organic produce, imported foodstuffs and lovely artisan bread, etc.) and it’s a charming shoppe.

Sigh. I’m still sad.

Mmmmm. Man. That’s the other benefit of Atkins: cheese is no longer The Enemy. I’ve started exploring the options. I’ve always been cheese-curious, to be frank. But it’s a daunting world, and sometimes you commit to a wedge at the store only to find you don’t like it when you get it home. But this Irish cheddar – when I die, I want to be filled with this cheese. I want people to see the box lowered in the earth and think there goes a man who is great with cheese. If I’m going to feed the worms I might as well give them a banquet instead of sawdust and formadehyde. . . [NOTE: Yes, that should be "formaldehyde" - It's nice that I'm not the only one to make spelling mistakes.]

Mmmm. Man. Wow.

I’m realizing that I should have included a bigger section of that 2003 Lileks’ (Lileks’s????? I never can decide.) piece. Well, tomorrow is another day; AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, I SHALL NEVER GO HUNGRY AGAIN!

That’s too sad (and misquoted, I think?) to even include an attribution. Ugh.