The calendar may say September, but I can assure you, it is most definitely summer outside.
Each evening brings the same litany from the humans. “It’s too hot to cook.” “We got tied up on campus and now it’s late.” “I wish someone would go ‘poof!’ and make dinner magically appear.” Blah, blah, blah. Whine, whine, whine.
Truth be told, I could actually go ‘poof!’ and make a gourmet dinner appear. But I won’t. Why?
1. TANSTAAFL–The human female is already good and lazy. Giving her an “out” by magicking up a meal wouldn’t teach her anything about patience, menu-planning, or time management.
2. Buying (and then cooking) food helps support the local grocetoriums. Store clerks get to keep their jobs. Texas farmers and ranchers sleep a little better knowing they have the humans’ coins in their piggy banks.
3. I’m petty.
So, they cook. Or not. Tonight they are most definitely NOT cooking. Instead, they’ve invited some friends round for a “cheese tasting.” If you put it like that, it sounds so much better than “hot and lazy.”
I’m interested to see what the humans have chosen. Sigyn likes a good double cream brie, while I go more for the hard, aged, nutty cheeses, the kind with enough attitude that it’s even money whether you’re going to eat it or it is going to knock you down and rifle your pockets for loose change.
Look, Sigyn, the human female put the good dishes out. They match and everything.
And there are grapes, apple, and several sorts of crackers. This looks promising. But get to the cheese already!
Ah. That’s more like it. In the back is a Spanish sheep’s milk cheese dusted with some ancho chili powder. And if I’m not mistaken, this pile is Manchego.
I do like a good Manchego.
Oh! And see that one down in the lower right corner? That, Sigyn, is the superior comestible known as thousand-day Gouda. See those little crystals? Pure flavor.
Truly, a cheese fit for a god. And what’s that you have there, dearest?
I recognize that! That is the year-old Vermont cheddar that the human female shoved into the cheese drawer and never got around to eating. It is now two-year old cheddar and is as sharp as my wit. Good choice, beloved, good choice.
We are rounding out the cheese board with a soft, mellow Beemster Graskaas, made of the first milk from cows turned newly out into tender grass and wildflowers in the spring.
And then there’s…that stuff.
Wensleydale with cherries. That is not a proper cheese. I… Just, no.
Now, pass me some water crackers and a few of those grapes.