temptation lies in the refridgerator, but I am going to abstain for your sake alone.Â Yes, you know what it is, my favourite food on the planet: Cheese.Â And lots of it.Â And you have your Grandma to blame!
We arrived home late last night from frisbee (where I nearly fell asleep on the side of the field after our first game so your dad finally believed me when I told him how tired I was and took me home before the second one – sorry team) to a big polystyrene refridgerated box that had been delivered by courier during the day.Â Labelled: “Richmond Hill Cafe and Larder”.Â Mmm.. I thought, your Grandma is in Melbourne for work, and she knows I like food, so…Â Started to open it and the aroma was unmistakeable – cheese!
Oh, I thought, I hope she remembered I can’t eat soft cheese cause of the risk of listeria…Â And opened it to find six massive hunks of imported amazingly-delicious-looking cheese – mostly soft!Â aAAAAAAAGGH.Â At this point I laughed, and your dad started to swipe at the hunks of cheese telling me that I wasn’t allowed them so they were all for him. Anyway, they all looked amazing and I thought about breaking the doctors orders.. but then thought again.Â Â There were two great hard cheeses though, so I ate a bit of them both, which made me happy.
After the laughter had subsided, I then thought about crying cause I really like my soft cheese, and I don’t know how I am going to last 9 months without eating any.Â Â Reading the tasting notes for the cheeses didn’t help either – I particularly wanted to try the spanish blue one wrapped in sycamore leaves.Â I mistakenly read the description out loud so your Dad of course dived right on in and tasted it to make sure it was good.Â And it looked great.Â Â He said it was fantastic.
At that point I started to laugh again, and decided that I had to share the fact that my own mother had bought me a total pregnancy contraband (but if anyone’s mother would, it would be mine of course), at great expense, I’m sure.Â So I phoned your Aunt in Japan and told her that a big box of cheese had just arrived from Melbourne.Â She laughed her ass off while exclaiming, “But you can’t eat cheese!Â Everyone knows that pregnant people can’t eat cheese! Trust our mum to buy you something that you can’t eat.Â No-one else’s mum would ever do something like that – hilarious!”…
So, I’ve slept on it and am now thoroughly reconciled to the fact that I can’t eat the soft cheese.Â I’ve checked the cheese in the fridge this morning and noticed that your dad has added his NAME to the packaging of the cheeses I can’t have!Â He can be quite possessive about his food.Â I note however that the day after you are born I will again be able to eat soft cheese, and that the “quesos valdeon” in particular sounds superb (if that isn’t a large enough hint I don’t know what else will work).
I also note that your grandma is definitely a numpty.Â I seem to recall that she is in fact the author of a book on food safety and hygiene which was recently published.Â Suggesting that she should perhaps be aware of listeria & pregnancy but perhaps forgot to engage her brain and relied soley on her sense of smell and taste.Â But I guess, put me in a smelly cheese room when I wasn’t pregnant, surrounded by a bunch of amazing cheeses of all sizes and textures, and all my faculties would desert me too.
Unfortunately, you and I are only able to experience the joy of soft cheese vicariously for the next 9 months.Â Your dad is happy to oblige.
“…the spanish blue one wrapped in sycamore leaves…” was absolutly fantastic. Even though I chomped it down on a whole wheat biscuit, without any accompanying fancy fig paste or quince paste (mind you I did have a glass of reasonably decent plonk), it was delicious.
And yes, I did put my name on it.
heh heh heh…