How can anybody not like cheese? I drove out to visit my Mom today for lunch and she asked me what kind of cheese was in lasagna. Why?, you ask. My sister Carol had her over for dinner on Sunday and had made a pan of lasagna, which I'm certain was delicious. I told Mom it probably had mozzarella, ricotta, and parmesan. 'Oh' was all she said. Mom, apparently, does not like those kinds of cheese. Oh boy, I thought to myself, wait till she tries the Zucchini and Gorgonzola soup I brought for lunch. She ate it but I bet she didn't really like it.
Oddly, Dad would have had a couple of bowls. We shared a love for stinky cheese -- bleu, gongonzola, stilton. I sure do miss Dad. I drove out to the cemetery on the way home, clearing off the snow-covered marker. Things are just so different with him gone.
One time I had too much cheese. I never thought it could happen but it did. Years ago Kevin made our family's version of Mac & Cheese and used 4 C of sharp cheddar for 1# of pasta. Overdose -- I actually picked around the excess goo to find some pasta.
But that seldom happens. Truly.