What ho? Pub cheese? In my local Hawaiian supermarket?
My curiosity was piqued. I had heard of–and enjoyed–pub food, like Ploughman’s Lunch and Cornish Pasties and Steak and Kidney Pie, but what could make one cheese pubbier than another? Visions of Tislet and Cheshire and Stilton danced in my head. Upon closer observation, I noted “sharp cheddar”. And more, it said “Gourmet Spreadable Cheese”. How could I go wrong?
Little did I know.
In my innocence, I brought it home, opened a Longboard and a packet of crackers. The sweet angels of anticipation danced a cha-cha on my taste buds as I pried off the plastic lid, peeled back the plastic liner and….
Oh. Oh, dear. Dear me. Alas. What was this? I peered into the container, barely daring to believe what I saw, unable to process the image before me. The texture resembled marshmallow peanuts, those denizens of the purgatory where evil sweets carbonize for all eternity, elbow to elbow with candy corn and Peeps. This was evil, pure evil.
Choking back my horror, knowing in my heart that I had to persevere, I spread a bit on a cracker and took a bite. With a jolt, I realized that this substance, this aerated orange travesty, had never been cheese, much less sharp cheddar, the go-to of cheeses, the Savior of Lost Recipes, the cheese all processed cheeses bow to in homage. This aerated travesty may have been a distant relative of Cheese Whiz, a cousin twice or thrice removed perhaps, a dubious honor at best. I bowed my head, feeling ashamed, out-played by the power of my own gullibility.
Still, the beer is only a little flat, the crackers aren’t totally stale, and there’s no point in letting perfectly awful junk food go to waste. If you’re in the ‘hood, feel free to drop by, take your shoes off, set yourself down.
I’ll just fix us a snack.