I’ve recently discovered that the cheese aisle bewilders me. I’ve always known that I’m probably more interested in cheese than most people. Too interested? No, don’t be silly. How could you be too interested in cheese?
But now I reached the unhappy realisation that it baffles me. And I’m just talking the regular, grocery aisle. Not your fancy Waitrose counter, or God forbid, Neal’s Yard or La Fromagerie. The horror of making a decision in there would paralyse me.
It’s the sheer variety that bewilders. Do I want something traditional like a nice cheddar, or with depth? A nice, mature cheddar? Oooh, a brie might be nice. Oak smoked? From which region?
I could bake a Camembert. Or how about a fancy cheese, one of those pineapple halos? Now we’re getting into dangerous territory. I currently have a Wensleydale with cranberries, some aged parmesan and two kinds of cheddar at home. Am I cheating on them with that halloumi, flashing me its ‘come grill me’ eyes?
Dial it back, some spreadable, some smelly, some gooey? Herein lies my problem. I’ve resigned myself to a fridge full of cheeses and an undeniable love for the beauty of a cheeseboard.
Can you take a course in cheese eating?