Hello, my name is Judi, and I’m a turophile...

I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I admit I love a certain type of dark chocolate with chipotle, and I love dark chocolate covered orange peel...but other than occasionally craving dark chocolate in one of those manifestations, I seldom crave sweets. I love salty things, and that said, it’s no surprise that I love cheese. Kath loves cheese too, and has from the get go: at age 2, one sunny fall afternoon, she helped me devour half a wheel of Stilton, brought back to me from England by my father-in-law. We downed that crumbly, sharp, blue-veined cheese with slices of crisp, Granny Smith apples. We’ve shared a love of cheese ever since.

A couple of weeks ago, Kath told me that she took a survey on My Space in which one of the questions was, “What do you like best about the place you’re living now?” She said, “I answered honestly: the thing I like best is all the great cheeses I get to eat”.

It’s true; there are nights that I’ve come home and we’ve happily, mutually, spontaneously decided that a small wheel of Cravanzina, with a little sourdough or some Bremner wafers, a bunch of grapes, and a glass of wine is the absolutely perfect meal.

I’ve been thinking that my love of cheese was a good thing, from a medical standpoint (because of the calcium). However, my doctor didn’t share my rosy view of the importance of cheese. Last visit, as I sat on the table waiting for her to make an appearance, I admit I may have been sort of smiling to myself, thinking of the block of white stilton with lemon that sat in my refrigerator even as I sat in my doctor’s office. Dr. G stormed into the room, her face almost apoplectic with anger. “WHAT have you been eating?!?!?!” she asked.

“Nothing, those were fasting labs, and I fasted!” I stammered, defensively.

She waved a piece of paper with my lab results in my face. “Look at your cholesterol!” she snapped. “It’s off the charts! Unless you can lower this dramatically in the next 6 weeks, we’ll be talking meds!” she threatened.

“Must be all that great cheese,” I muttered.

“No more cheese!” she ordered. “From now on, start each day with OATMEAL,” she commanded. In response to my less than enthusiastic look, she said, “Well, you can add some raisins...”

I shuddered at the thought. I don’t like raisins in most things, and certainly not in my oatmeal. However, I ate oatmeal (McCann's steel cut oats, slow cooked), religiously for 6 weeks. It did the trick, and lowered my cholesterol dramatically, after which I happily reverted to my old cheese eating ways. In the past few weeks, in addition to the Cravanzina (with which Kath and I have indulged ourselves regularly), we’ve had hard Pecorinos, soft Bries, smooth, sharp cheddars, creamy swisses...these are only a few. I’m 6 weeks away from having my cholesterol measured again, and frankly Scarlett, I don’t give a damn...

Or thought I didn’t...

This morning, driving to work at the crack of dawn and flipping stations on the radio, I almost spewed my cappuccino and had a stroke when I heard the announcer say, in the stained glass voice of early morning talk show hosts: “Ted, some tragic news today from North Dallas, where two more people have died after eating Cheese...” This sober announcement was followed by wildly incongruous music, after which a voice said cheerily: “That story and more after these messages from our sponsors...”

I felt my heart racing. What did he mean, two MORE people have died after eating cheese? Have people been dropping like flies from cheese and I didn’t know about it? I thought my doctor was nuts: a brainy, driven woman who happens to have no taste in food, but maybe I underestimated her. Was it the Cravanzina? Oh, PLEASE don’t let it be the Cravanzina, I thought, listening intently, waiting breathlessly for the announcer to come back on with the whole story...which he did...

Uh-huh. Seems there’s now a recreational drug called...you guessed it...cheese.

Jeez.

They shouldn’t be allowed to call it that.

Oh well. As RosannaRosanna-Danna used to say...Nevermind!