Is cheese a metaphor for something? The holes? The stink? The textures? The way it fills us up?
I didn’t think so either. It just tastes good.
Take Hannahbells. It’s a small, family owned company in Westport, Massachusetts, I’d not heard of until today. Leo Brooks, at least that’s who I think it was, who informed me that he is married to a woman who is a friend of one of the brothers, was giving out samples at Shaw’s in Allston. According to the company website, Mr. Brooks also flies or flew planes for Continental Airlines.
“This is your captain speaking: Altitude of 30,000 feet, cheese up ahead.”
These are acorn sized, cow’s milk, soft cheeses, with a thin rind that are shaped like thimbles. I sampled the “classic French” and rosemary flavored ones and I’m here to tell you that there are really delicious. Dunno why they call them “classic French,” but I guess that’s a nod to their Brie like flavor and texture. Anyhoo, as Ma would say, or was it Gertrude Stein? A cheese by any other name would taste as good.
You can find the cheeses online at: shybrothersfarm.com.
Love that name.
Later the very same day, talk about synergy, and they say there are no invisibilities, I bumped into Ihsan Gurdal, owner of Formaggio Kitchen, in his store and then and there he said, “Let’s have a party for your new book…Back of the House.” (Stop what you’re doing, go to Amazon, buy ten. You have friends and family; show them you love them with a copy of this book.)
I think Ihsan will serve cheese at the party. Lucky guess, right?