I don't even know how to begin this post, or even if I should. I am not all that I appear to be. Nay. I have deep secrets, and today I feel like confessing.
I am a firm promoter, supporter, and ingester of American artisan cheese. I appreciate the time and energy that people have put into it. Being a cheesemaker is rougher than I can imagine. There is backbreaking work, long hours, very little pay and little recognition-if any. Smells that don't come out of your skin and hair. If the Gods are on your side you might be able to forge a living out of it. If the devil's on your side you might garner some modicum of fame or notoriety. The point is, I respect, and admire the people who work through harsh conditions to bring yummy goodness to the masses.
Unfortunately, none of this matter when I get the craving. The craving for little cheeses. Little mass produced cheeses that make me feel like taking a shower and scrubbing myself with steel wool. Never clean. Never clean. I'm speaking of course of the mini Babybel semi-soft cheese in "original" flavor.
It's wrong. On a Babybel day I don't eat any other cheese. The shame is too great. The cheese would know of my betrayal and turn to ash in my mouth.
They say that confession is good for the soul. I just don't know. I feel just as bad as I did before I confessed. I did eat a Babybel a few minutes ago. Maybe that's it. I also like Annie's mac and cheese from a box and Hershey milk chocolate bars..
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