The Gospel of Cheese

[ed. this is the first time EVER that we have written and posted simultaneously for the same meal. Crazy.]

Cheese Plate

Behold! Cheese, in all its cheesy, glorious glory! I think that if I were to start a religion, it would be based on the worship of cheese. Pictured at left are the earthly incarnations of the Cheese that we ate last week for dinner.

[Note: we had actually planned a real meal but Marc lost money on his Google stocks and to feel better, he suggested that we eat cheese.]

One definition that I found on the Interweb says that religion is “a cause, principle, or activity pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion.” Ergo, the activity that I pursue with zeal and conscientious devotion is the eating of The Cheese. Ha!

In my religion, most of the deadly sins would be reversed and revered as holy behaviour in relation to The Cheese: Lust for, Gluttony involving, Avarice towards, Wrath of not having, Pride of having eaten, Envy of others eating, Sloth as a result of having eaten. The Holy Trinity would be The Milk, The Rind and The Mighty Bacteria. Cows would be holy, same for sheep and goats. We would not eat them and would decorate them with leis of flowers. Reincarnation is out; the caste system is out. But maybe long ago in a galaxy far, far away, someone might have obtained Nirvana whilst sitting under the Bo tree and eating cheddar.

What elevated this dinner to super-holy was the crackers. They are a dark and be-seeded variety made by Rainforest; I’ve only ever seen them for sale at Janice Beaton and at the Cookbook Company. They are very crisp and have sweet, sort of molasses flavour that is dead brilliant with a soft cheese, like Brebiou Pur Brebis. (I haven’t been able to find that cheese in my Encyclopedia of Cheese though, so maybe it is a variety specific to Canada. Might have to do some cheese research.) Also, this evening of worship included Marc’s first attempt at home-made ciabatta bread (which, incidentally, he CANNOT say without adding an extra “–batta” to the end). I know it did not meet his high standard of excellence in the art of bread, but it tasted pretty good to me and provided a very effective medium of getting pâté from knife to mouth. The congregants of my religion would live short, but very sweet, lives.

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