The grocery store imparts a wealth of knowledge on me at every hair-raising turn of the baby cart. On my 5th stroll past the bacon (the unfortunate by product of not making a list), I finally bit the bullet and put my 3rd cheese variety into the basket that was looking pretty sad at this point. Four types of bread, three types of cheese, a hodgepodge of veggies and five…count them five…types of soup.
I’m a creature of variety, not habit. Just like meeting new people, trying new things always puts pep in my step. It’s the exciting and unknown that bring the most value-add to my day. The memories that bubble most frequently to the surface are the moments unlike all the others, not the repeated cadences of my daily life. That is not to say that there is not comfort in the habitual, and I appreciate those rhythms in their own way, but nothing ignites my thoughts like a novel taste, an unheard joke or the cool breeze on an unexplored path.
Sometimes, my need for adventure exceeds the number of hands I have to tote all of my foodie finds up the 92 stairs required to enter my apartment.
It’s November, but still the physical act of dragging that many bags has caused me to sweat profusely. It’s a reoccurring battle between me and my grocery bags. Every time, I obstinately refuse to take more than one trip up the stairs. Instead, I try to cram as many bags as I can onto each arm, clearly conserving previous energy….nevermind the squished bread and bruised bananas, victims of my stubborn nature.
Why did I need to get 82 pounds of cheese? Were rye AND wheat really necessary? What the frick do you even DO with rhubarb?
All important questions to ask oneself during break number three on the trip to the second floor.
I just need to try it all. Cheddar and I have always had a solid relationship. I know what I am going to get every time I take a bite and it fits quite nicely with my life. But what am I supposed to do when presented with the plethora of possibilities that live in the four walls of my local Central Market? There is only one answer: try them all.
I’m sorry, Cheddar, I’m cheating on you with the Fontina.
Unlike previous dating pools, big kid life tends to treat dating like my grocery shopping. It isn’t even unheard of to have multiple metaphorical cheeses in one’s fridge. Try them out in several recipes until you find one that makes the perfect salad topper, melts well on a pizza and can even be paired with Gypsy Wine (when I find it that is…) during a Friday night movie marathon.
Due to the sheer number of ways to communicate in today’s world, it would be naïve to think that people are trying out one “cheese” at a time. I have been guilty of vetting multiple possibilities at the same time with the typical get-to-know-you questions. (Calm down. It’s not like I group text it out, or BCC them all on the same email. I have tact, you know.)
What with texting, facebooking, gchat, email, skype, twitter and the myriad of other communication tools, constant communication has become a part of our everyday lives. I freak out now if I don’t hear back from someone in 5 minutes. C’mon, I know your phone is blowing up. If you didn’t get my text, then the push notification from my wall post and @mention had to have caught your attention. No? Maybe I should send you an instagram….and a Face Time request…or maybe leave you another voicemail. If that doesn’t work, there is always the option of posting up in the tree outside of your window…
Particularly zealous singles run into the problem of remembering which cheese is which. Was the Gouda on Friday night…or did I say Thursday? The Asiago is intelligent, but the Brie is really really fun. But then there’s always the Pepper Jack, he’s dreamy.
Tirade aside, I think it is fine to test drives your cheeses, but keep your feet on the ground. If you aren’t careful, you may find yourself with more cheese than you can carry.
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