Mostly whimsy and drivel of no consequence. And CHEESE.
Not only did he use the term “herewith,” which one just HAS to love, the Gentleman Author of bumppo.net managed a parade of FOURTEEN different cheeses through his kitchen in only a few days time. This is a turophile triumph.
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.
Terry
November 28th, 2006 at 6:19 pm
I’ve had both the yellow rounds AND the red rounds. Due to a genetic anomaly in my nose, however, I cannot smell, and therefore taste, the oh-so-subtle nuances of certain cheeses. That said, I know what I like. And the last thing I liked was a St. Morgan.
14 cheeses over a few days is OK, but 14 cheese over a few HOURS would have been much more awesome.
jenny
November 29th, 2006 at 9:45 am
I, on the other hand, am called “The Nose” by my my husband’s extended family, and can pick out the subtle nuances in most things, which is NOT a gift to be wished for. Not only can I pick out the individual notes that make up complex French perfumes, but I can tell what cereal my children had for breakfast by the way the bathroom smells after they’ve used it. I know: gross.
Most cheeses to me carry notes of—not oak, or grass, or WHATEVER it is cheese “notes” may be —but things like baby spitup, fresh dog doo, common bread mold, the shoes of an entire 1st grade class after a rainy recess and three hours in hot, wet socks. You get the idea. I stick generally with cheddar and mozarella, with an occasional foray into Brie and the spreadable Swiss wedges…
Terry
November 30th, 2006 at 6:11 am
GAH! Jenny, you poor thing! Way to go, Nose. After reading that, I’m glad I have no sense of smell.
In fact, just a few weeks ago, I was filling the gas tank for a friend, and caught a whiff of gas. It was astonishing. Like having your eyesight suddenly restored after a lifetime of glaucoma. And so I prattled on in my usual way — Wow! A smell! and my son and roommate shrugged and said, “Now imagine the rest of us… getting whiffs of everything, good and bad, all day long.”
See, hot, wet socks means nothing to me. Most days, I WISH I could smell a hot, wet sock or something FOUL… just for the experience.
That said: could we swap noses for a day?
Kate
December 3rd, 2006 at 10:40 am
Okay, I’m still rendered just a little speechless by finding out these things about your NOSES!!! So I find out that though Terry is very talented, etc., etc., she doesn’t smell very good (ha ha ha…) and that Jenny has been hiding her SUPER-POWERS for I don’t know how long.
Jenny, as a friend, would you tell me if I was stinky???
jenny
December 5th, 2006 at 10:48 pm
I’ll only let you know when you’re stinky IF you tell me when I have bad breath. Or “oily hair smell.” *Bleh.* I have phobias about stinking, since I notice stinks so much. So I err on the side of caution and wash with the strongest soap known to man— “Irish Spring: Clean As A Whistle!” —and use multiple perfumes, deodorants, toothpastes, powders, etc. While I [hopefully] smell like a walking, talking Nordstrom fragrance counter (minus the coffee beans), I [probably] smell like the grooming salon at PetSmart.
And then I get migraines, which magnify my supersniffer superpowers to beyond-superhuman levels. And at that point everything —including Irish Spring — makes me want to vomit.
Terry, tonight in your prayers be sure to thank Heavenly Father that you can’t smell hot, fetid wet socks.