A cheese story
During childhood we learn to love the food we have. A better option than going hungry. Today I heard mention of something that my wife remembered from her childhood. Velveeta cheese with a small slicing tool. Unknown to me. We handled cheese differently. At the local store you could buy a piece carefully cut from a large block of cheddar. My father preferred old cheddar. The kind that would bite you if you did not pay attention. We had no access to fancier cheeses imported from another world. In fact I was fully an adult before I ever discovered cream cheese or cottage cheese or cheeses that were melted onto your food. We had old cheddar. Served on small dry crackers. Hardly novel to the rest of you but for us this was important. We did not mix our cheeses. Each piece brought from the store would be in the fridge until we stopped being able to serve a small piece with a knife. I am not sure what I would have done if someone handed me a dish of cottage cheese. I probably would have stared and asked very pointed questions. As for cream cheese that also came much later in my life. Around the same time that I discovered the wonder of the bagel. You have to eat what you have to eat. Too much variety leaves a small child confused. Even now I still have my clear preferences. I have tried other types of cheese but when it comes down to picking out something at the local store good old cheddar from the local cheese factory serves me well.
