Fake Cheese

I am a cheese lover. Cheddar, jack, chipotle, goat, swiss....hardly met a cheese I didn't like. It's become a sort of identity for me...and actually made my bucket list. Yes, I will eat cheese on a street side cafe somewhere in Europe with wine. It's a romantic ideal I recognize, but leave me and my bucket list alone! I have my Hollywood frame in my mind and I will experience some semblance of that reality in my life time.



Now, back to cheese....broiled on steak, melted on bread, tossed in salad, just by the chunk, yes I am known in many circuits as the mouse. In fact, in a certain unfortunate event, I had to fire a personal trainer who insisted that my entire dietary/body ratio proportions were off balance due to cheese!


A couple weeks ago I made a batch of homemade broccoli cheese soup and the recipe called for mostly shredded cheddar, fresh veggies and cream...and a portion of shredded processed cheese. Let me tell you, it's NOT found in the cheese aisle or anywhere near refrigeration, but near the chips. You see, processed cheese is "special". Albeit, the soup was amazing and I'll make it again, the non-perishable "cheese" with it's radioactive orangish-yellowish glow is a bit unnerving. And the way it mushes in your hand if one attempts to shred it is disgusting.

However, melted quickly into a homemade soup, one can forget it's unnatural personality long enough. But last night I made enchiladas and decided that rather than waste the remainder of nuclear-block-o'cheese-wannabe, I decided to use the fake cheese. I have never made enchiladas with fake cheese and can safely assert that I never will again.


My husband and grown children, raised with a certain level of politeness and poise at dinner ate in silence. Before I knew it I was alone, they had quietly slinked out of the room stealth like, hoping to go unnoticed. "The kids didn't like it," exclaims the husband as he notices a nearly perfectly formed enchilada in the trash. "That belongs to mom," shouts oldest from his bedroom computer. I'll have to talk to that kid!

To fake cheese - you've seen your last appearance here. You're not worthy and the way you stiffly held your defiant face in the trash proves you don't belong here. God protect the seagulls at the landfill.