A friend tells me she hates goat’s cheese because it smells like dirty socks. When she ever tasted dirty socks escapes me. However, I have a liking for it, not least because I live in a mountain village and am often surrounded by goats. Funny creatures, of whom I am jealous because they can eat anything, including dirty socks. I can’t eat anything, including dirty socks.
Occasionally a friendly local goatherd whom I have known for at least ten minutes, will bring me a piece of the cheese. Now, I have lived long enough to know that whatever Brussels commands is immediately applied by all European countries (notice any irony here?).
I bring out my cream crackers and smother them with goat’s cheese. Okay, it is not actually possible to smother anything with goat’s cheese. It just crumbles. So, I crumble the crackers with goat’s cheese and immediately fall into an ecstasy, unaware that the goat cheese crumbles are all over the place, including my keyboard and the dirty socks basket. Which is how I know that it doesn’t at all taste like dirty socks.
I know what you’re thinking: he’s going to put the cheese back on the crackers.
And why not? Damned if I’m going to waste good cheese. And the socks will eventually get washed anyway.
(This little piece of nonsense was brought to you as a way of practice by Quesos de Payayo)