When I was a kid, I fought with my dad over cheese more often than over anything else. I'd decided within days of my arrival to Sweden that I hated cheese. To my dad, forcing me to eat cheese became the most important thing in the world. In retrospect I can appreciate the importance of cheese-eating to the process of naturalisation, but, for a long time, cheese was a source of great emotional suffering in my life.
I slowly came to accept cheese that had been tamed by heat, on pizza and hamburgers and in some sauces. I discovered feta, halloumi, mozarella, parmesan. They were good. I learned that cheddar is good with meat and veggies. I developed a fascination with cheese, much like the fascination I have for many other fruits of human-microbe love. I'd look at shows about food and see mushy cheeses and think how wonderful it would be if I could enjoy them rather than hate them.
Over the past two years, with the help of my fiancée and her cheese-crazy family, I have come to accept more cheeses than ever before. Raw, untamed. It turns out I like goat cheese! Chèvre cheese keeps popping up in various improvised dishes. The other day the ginger brought home something amazing, an aged Dutch goat cheese called Bettine Grand Cru, and I have been finding all sorts of excuses to go into the kitchen and shave off a thin slice or three. I have to admit, I like this new life. With wine.
How 'bout you? Have you found cheeses?


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