The cheese stands alone

Thanksgiving is a glorious holiday for food lovers. Its traditionally large meal covers a lot of bases, with meat, grains and vegetables all included in the smorgasbord.

But Thanksgiving feasts usually exclude one key ingredient: cheese. Here, our writers argue for their favorite type of processed dairy goodness.

GOUDA

By Eric Bricker

It wasn’t the best burger I’ve ever had, but it was, perhaps, the most memorable. I was at a Silver Diner — the one in Laurel, in case you were wondering. It was well after midnight, and I had a deep, primal need to ingest meat, barbecue sauce and cheese. But I never expected to stumble upon a complete game-changer: smoked Gouda cheese.

Originally produced in the Netherlands, Gouda is one of the oldest cheeses in the world. Made from cow milk (talk to Beena about goat cheese — I’ll have none of it), Gouda is produced by culturing and heating milk until the curds separate from the whey, adding water and coating in wax.

Smoky and sweet and just this side of creamy, Gouda is at once utterly unpretentious — it pairs better with beer than wine, for example — and appropriately classy. (It’s Dutch, and its name needs to be capitalized.) If cheeses were people, Gouda would be your friend who studied abroad in Holland for a semester and came back full of stories about rugby matches and stealing sausages from street vendors: cool but not in your face about it — able to bust out some Dutch swear words when it sees fit, more than willing to laugh at all of your lame “It’s good-ah” jokes.

At home with a stout and an undercooked burger in a mahogany-paneled bar or able to pick out which fork to use in a white-tablecloth bistro, Gouda is cheese as it’s meant to be: sweet and savory, a confidant and a friend who still manages to be just a little bit mysterious.

 

GOAT

By Beena Raghavendran

There probably isn’t a record of the creation of goat cheese, but I would think the story would go something like this:

Once upon a time, there was a medium-sized billy goat perched atop a mountain. With the goat was an easily bored shepherd with a knack for innovation. Huddled around a single fire, the shepherd waited for the goat’s milk to curdle and spent hours draining and pressing the milk. The shepherd tasted his creation at the top of the mountain as the rising sun broke through the earth. It was the most brilliant cheese to ever grace this planet.

Goat cheese isn’t just a spread to accent bread or crackers or cookies. No, goat cheese is a lifestyle — an encouragement of hope, a sprinkle of white curdles with a punch of taste that comes from somewhere beautiful, an explosion of disbelief that a cheese can really be so wonderful. Without goat cheese, life is good. With goat cheese, life is a fairy tale.

Cheese is the most neglected food, especially during Thanksgiving, the holiday most devoted to food, which centers on meat, vegetables and grains. When will society understand that cheese gives foods the smart details that expand palates and make foods distinct and wonderful? Layering a bit of feta cheese on pasta gives it a different feel than pasta piled high with Parmesan. Cheese makes the world shine.

But back to goat cheese, my favorite of the cheeses because it’s the most special. Once you perfect the initial process of straining the milk, the possibilities are endless. You can deck the cheese with herbs, pieces of vegetables, vinaigrettes. You can consume it in logs, cylinders, pyramids. I’ve even had times when, upon biting into a cracker smothered with goat cheese, I sometimes forget the existence of the rest of the world. That first bite is so simple yet packed with this polished flavor of richness. It only gets better from there. The second bite is decadent. The third is a burst of beauty. The rest are simply addictive.

Goat cheese even has health benefits other types of cheese lack. Some who are lactose intolerant say goat cheese is easier to digest because though it has about the same amount of lactose as cow’s milk, its fat molecules are shorter and more digestible, according to Alabama goat cheese producer Belle Chevre’s website. Whole Foods Market’s  website says compared to cream cheese, goat cheese is lower in fat, calories and cholesterol.

While all cheeses are remarkable, goat cheese isn’t a basic taste like mozzarella or Parmesan; it doesn’t have a sharp taste like cheddar or Swiss; and it’s not quirky like blue. Each bite of goat cheese reminds us of the spontaneity of life and the power of a punchy and bold cheese, a cheese handed down from the mountains so many years ago.

 

BLUE

By Dean Essner

My parents have always been cheap cheese connoisseurs of sorts, their favorite purchases being Piave, brunost and brie de Melun. But I always egg them on to buy that stinky, slippery, discolored, conspicuously creamy dairy wheel that also happens to be one of my favorite foods in the world: blue cheese.

I have fond memories of eating post-Thanksgiving meals made up of leftover appetizers — liberal slabs of blue cheese on crusts of melba toast with olives, fruit and sometimes miscellaneous snack items. But the blue cheese was always the most important part of these meals — or any meal for that matter. Burgers? Salads? Sandwiches? Straight off the knife and into my mouth gorging sessions? Perfect in any context. 

For those who have never tried the cheese, its taste is difficult to describe: one part bitter, one part salty, with a lingering consistency of cream on the tongue. It’s definitely an acquired taste and also an acquired smell. Some people find it impossible to stick their face up to a piece of blue cheese, let alone put it in their mouth. 

The silver lining, though, comes with continuous samplings. Some say good things come to those who wait. Blue cheese takes time to reveal itself. Badger your parents to buy some today.

 

SWISS

By Robert Gifford

There are more urbane cheeses than Swiss — cheeses with European names that require delicate accentuation, cheeses to be paired with French wines, cheeses for discerning palates that scream, “I’m cultured, and I want you to know it.”

But Swiss isn’t one of them. Like its neutral Alpine namesake, it’s content to do its own thing and let the powerhouses — the Roqueforts and chevres of the world — do theirs. And it does its thing very well. There may never be Swiss cheese hors d’oeuvres, but when you need something simple yet delicious to top the perfect sandwich, Swiss will always be at the ready, eager to quietly do its duty and satisfy without showing off.

It doesn’t hurt that, with its “eyes,” it’s a uniquely aesthetically appealing cheese — there’s a reason the cartoon cheese of choice is Swiss. So go ahead, set out a spread of Taleggio and Gouda and hope your dinner party guests are impressed by your good taste. When they’re gone and you need to relax with something unassuming and savory, Swiss will be there, waiting.

 

FETA

By Kelsey Hughes

I think my love for feta all began the day I discovered the Greek gyro. The lamb meat, the cucumber-yogurt tzatziki sauce, the pita bread and the vegetables are all good, and when combined they make a decent sandwich. But feta cheese, delicious and crumbly, salty and juicy, is the perfect complement. It pulls all the ingredients together, and while alone its taste is fairly dominant, when sprinkled onto the sandwich, it blends perfectly.

Naturally, as a cheese lover, I started experimenting with feta on other foods and found it works for everything. It melts perfectly onto any type of sandwich, into omelets, and it even can be eaten on its own as a tasty snack. Its one flaw is that it doesn’t get stringy when it melts, but this complaint is minor at best and overshadowed by feta’s delicious taste and texture. Simply put, feta cheese is the best cheese.

 

BRIE

By Danielle Ohl

Imagine a world where everything is smooth and perfect and, above all, creamy. In this world, food tastes better, and everyone sounds just a little bit more cultured because they can pronounce fancy French words. It may sound too good to be true, but this is the world of brie cheese. There are people who don’t like brie, but I don’t understand those people.

I once had a turkey and brie sandwich that changed my life. It was October 2012, and I, like many of my joy-hating counterparts, was skeptical of this rich substance encased in wax. “Why does it have to cover up in wax? What does it have to hide?” I asked myself.

It took only one bite of this glorious culinary concoction to realize that the cheese has nothing to hide — rather, it’s a secret to keep sacred. Brie cheese is something to be discovered, beheld and adored. It is nothing short of a masterpiece. Discover the secret, my friends, and be changed forever.

 

CHEEZ-ITS

By Alana Pedalino

College kids love cheese. It’s an essential part of the six food groups — pizza, pasta, crackers/chips, Red Bull, fast food and take out — responsible for the infamous “freshman 15.” It’s an option that all of the on-campus salad bars supply, providing the fat and flavor to a meal that is often skimpy and bland. In addition, cheese is a versatile medium — it can be grilled, baked, drizzled, even squeezed and still maintains its deliciously addictive qualities. Basically, cheese is accessible to students, and they take full advantage of this gift.

However, there are three types of students on this campus: those who are lactose intolerant, those who view cheese as a mere option and those who cannot live without cheese. For inexplicable reasons, the last group has had a curse bestowed upon it that wreaks havoc upon its members’ daily lives. I know because I’ve experienced it, for there is one cheese product that causes me to cringe in horror when the question is proposed to me:

“Would you like any of my Cheez-Its?”

For the only answer is:

“Sure, I’ll take a handful.”

Little does the proposer know that he or she has released the savage beast within, one that will go to any lengths to fulfill my abhorred desire for Cheez-Its. It’s as if I’ve been transformed from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde, all because of a baked square no bigger than a quarter.

This is the burden that those in the third group must carry with them through the entirety of their lives: the curse of loving Cheez-Its. For after one draws a single cheese cracker, he or she cannot simply be satisfied. And asking for another Cheez-It is out of the question, for fear of appearing greedy.  

So the addict waits until the monstrous urge to shovel Cheez-Its into his or her mouth creeps up on him or her in the middle of the night, requiring a sudden trip to the 24 Shop.

One box later, the guilt of the lapse sets in as the now-parched addict sits on his or her bed surrounded by microscopic salt crystals and orange crumbs.

Unfortunately, there is no cure for this foul malady at this time. However, breaking research is indicating that drinking water between mouthfuls can ease the taste buds during snack attacks.

My heart goes out to these poor, miserable students. My only advice to them is this: The only sure-fire way to break the addiction is to cut Cheez-Its out of your life all together.