The Cheese Whisperer
Here’s what you need to know about my friend Marty:
1) Two weekends ago, he swam from Alcatraz to San Francisco in 38 minutes and change. He was not wearing a wetsuit. I'm certain that if I ever tried such a feat I would either die or crawl out of the water with nipples so hard that they could cut (unevenly) through solid steel beams.
2) In his day (he’s nine years my senior) he was an elite water polo player. I have not yet been able to verify this claim other than to say he does have a swimming pool in his backyard. You do the math.
3) He is my attorney, which is to say that he looked over my contracts from the literary agency and publishing company and then buried them under one of the thousands of stacks of paper on his desk and forgot about their existence, and perhaps mine as well.
4) Marty is what you might call a “foodie”. He believes in wine and cioppino and olive oil that’s extra, extra, extra virgin. So virgin that the olives don’t even have a vagina yet. He’s a great cook, but not good enough to convince me that Brussels sprouts aren’t a fucking pox on humanity.
I admire Marty. I love spending time with him. But lately I’ve become concerned that he’s losing his mind. This anxiety is based in the fact that Marty has recently adopted his own personal credo. It’s a sentence he recites every time I see him:
As you get older, cheese becomes very important.
I have no idea what that means, probably because my digestive system has determined that dairy products are the devil and that swallowing anything closely resembling cheese will cause the heavens to rain down upon me with great vengeance and furious anger and I will know cheese’s name is the lord when it lays its vengeance upon me. But even if I COULD eat dairy products, I simply cannot see a time in my future when cheese would be any more important to me than athlete’s foot or everything bagels or how close George Bush is to learning how to pronounce the word “nuclear”.
We went to a party Saturday night with about a dozen couples in attendance, including Marty and his wife Julie. Every time someone made a joke and accidentally spit while they were talking or told a funny story, I was asked if I was going to write about it on my blog. The answer was no. Universally no. Not because what happened wasn’t funny or interesting, but because nothing anyone could have done would be remarkable enough to top Marty’s “cheese trance”.
Everyone was asked to bring something to the party. Marty brought cheese. And true to his sociopathic love affair with curds of various types, he brought two big grocery bags filled with different cheeses. Cheese that looked like a rope. Cheese that was brown on the outside. Cheese that smelled like somebody’s butthole. Cheese that he covered in some sort of red sauce, causing it to look like Sissy Spacek’s prom dress at the end of “Carrie”. It was a remarkable representation of how far cows have come in the last few years.
But even more striking than the spread he set out on the table was Marty’s demeanor while he was putting it out. I’m telling you guys, it was freaky. His eyes opened wide, his movements were crisp and precise, and his concentration was so laser-focused that it was as if he was looking THROUGH the cheese and directly into the spread legs of Miss September. I’ve never seen anything like it.
I was standing to the side with a couple of other guys, watching The Cheese Whisperer assemble his wares as though he were on autopilot, and I suddenly became concerned that he might drool in the Gruyere if he didn’t close his mouth. I spoke to him with the words of Mary Poppins.
“Close your mouth please, Martin. We are not a codfish.”
He didn’t even hear me. He was so deep in his cheese trance that the rest of the world was immaterial, irrelevant, and invisible. I was so moved by his behavior that I made a slight modification to his credo.
As you get older, cheese (and therapy) become very important.
ROFL.
And good job for working in the PULP FICTION reference. Unless you intended it as a straight-up Biblical reference, in which case...get help.
I blame the open-water swimming. It creates insanity where only the seeds of it existed.
Brussels sprouts are so tasty slow roasted with fresh garlic (NEVER the jarred gunk or powder!) and pancetta. Trust me, you'll love it.
My husband is from Wisconsin so we take our cheese seriously. I think we'd like and invitation to Marty's. Would it be appropriate attire to wear a cheesehead?
I get the same way with cigars. I walk into a cigar shop and my wife just leaves me. I mean she really leaves me. I end up walking home. Smoking a cigar of course...
Agree on wonderful to see Pulp Fiction mention. I love cheese. My heart bleeds for the lactose intolerant. It bleeds Bleu for you *grin*
Regarding #3, Marty did follow through. You were not a paying client, remember?
I love you for referencing Mary Poppins!
I was once an elite Marco Polo player. And your right Brussel Sprouts are the work of the Devil. Gives me the wooly boogers just to type the words.
Quiet, please, or I shall have to summon a policeman.
Is Marty married? Because I have a girlfriend who used to work in a cheese shop (as she loves to remind me constantly). She is cheese crazy. She gets exactly how you describe him ... cheese-tranced. It's a weird type of phenomenon to watch.
OMFG, you are so funny. (Are you ready for football or WHAT?)
I like cheese quite a bit but I can never be considered an actual aficionado because I like Velveeta too much. I also strongly believe that any food or recipe can be improved by adding cheese and/or chocolate. Except maybe Brussels sprouts.
I, too, can be swept away by the awesome allure of cheese. One of my favorite places in the world is the Central Market in town that has an entire aisle of just cheeses....and I am not talking about shredded or sliced colby jack. My husband and children share my love for cheese, and a special meal to us is to go to the market, pick out something new, get a fresh loaf of bread, and go home to devour it with fruits and spreads. It is heaven. We are currently hung up on eating Manchego as much as possible. We love just saying it.....Man-che-go.
I, too, can be swept away by the awesome allure of cheese. One of my favorite places in the world is the Central Market in town that has an entire aisle of just cheeses....and I am not talking about shredded or sliced colby jack. My husband and children share my love for cheese, and a special meal to us is to go to the market, pick out something new, get a fresh loaf of bread, and go home to devour it with fruits and spreads. It is heaven. We are currently hung up on eating Manchego as much as possible. We love just saying it.....Man-che-go.
For me? It's books. I go into a Barnes & Noble, and have the exact same reaction. Mouth agape, drool forming at the corners of my mouth. So many books, so little time. Hey, everyone's gotta have their thing, whatever makes them get their freak on.
Did I mention that I organized their initial stickers in their stationery department last time I was in there? Yeah. Now they're all in alphabetical order. You know what? No one there thought I was weird. Must be a bookworm thing. Perhaps it is the same with cheeseheads.
Or perhaps its the pollution in SF Bay that finally made him go over the edge . . .
LOL
Cheese becomes even more important when you can't have it anymore. Kind of like sex.
Yay, cheese! I feel bad for your lactose intolerance, bummer. Our favorite is Gouda from Holland, the big wedge from Costco. I guess that correctly marks us as non-aficionados since we buy in bulk, but cheese is a little like wine and sex: sometimes it's OK to stick with a favorite.
I'm not gonna lie: I love cheese, and I agree with Marty. My favorite is gouda.
I'm with Marty. You can make any gathering good with some mediocre wine and GOOD CHEESE.
It's the great equalizer... Russia and Georgia should sit down with cheese and wine and figure stuff out.
I'm not kidding.
No. No. Nope. Marty brought cheese because you don't have to cook it. The trance was an affect designed to hide this fact and to star on your blog.
Gooooo, Marty!
I love Brussel Sprouts.
I think I'm married to Marty. Of course, I know him by another name, but from the description, I'd say it's the same guy. Kinda weird, isn't he? What is UP with the cheese love? I don't know. I try to take it out of the cart in the store when he's not looking, but somehow my fridge keeps filling up with stinky packages of cheese.
I think I'm married to Marty. Of course, I know him by another name, but from the description, I'd say it's the same guy. Kinda weird, isn't he? What is UP with the cheese love? I don't know. I try to take it out of the cart in the store when he's not looking, but somehow my fridge keeps filling up with stinky packages of cheese.
I think I'm married to Marty. Of course, I know him by another name, but from the description, I'd say it's the same guy. Kinda weird, isn't he? What is UP with the cheese love? I don't know. I try to take it out of the cart in the store when he's not looking, but somehow my fridge keeps filling up with stinky packages of cheese.
I don't know if I can totally jump on board with this, but that may just be denial taking hold... I'm only 27 but I have already significantly ramped up my interest in and appreciation of cheese.
All along I thought I was a unique individual, but now I find that I'm destined to slice cheese with my nipples and deflower innocent olives. Or at least that's what I got out of this.
Marty has a cheese boner.
Hooray! I love vocabulary and you gave me a new word! cioppino : a stew of fish and shellfish cooked usually with tomatoes, wine, spices, and herbs. I like cheese. I'd like to hang with Marty I think.
Cheese? He sounds like a character from some Reggie Perin novel (or is that only known in England?). Or a weird fromage version of that great film Sideways about a wine buff.
i had a party once and the french guy brought brought bags and bags of cheese. some of it was REALLY good . . . some of it smelled like butt. i am slightly lactose intolerant, but the slices of peasant bread grilled with a little brie was irresistible! (*4 hours later, though . . . )
blanched brussell sprouts cut in half and sauteed with olive oil, bacon and shallots and finished with a splash of balsamic vinegar is how it goes down at my house! otherwise, velveeta baby.
*velveeta is not cheese; it's a cheese product.
If that man can swim from Alcatraz to San Francisco in 38 minutes, then maybe he's eating SUPER CHEESE. I mean, think about it: If he can perform super feats, how bad can cheese be for you, really? He needs to be the spokesmodel for the cheese board.
Also, Quick comment: I am a Bush backer but it drives me INSANE that he says "Noo-cue-ler". I'm all, "DUDE you are the leader of the free world!!!! Say the word right!!!!"
As if the thought of aging was disturbing enough, with the threat of alzeheimers, varicose veins, hip replacement surgery. Now I have to worry about the cheese. Great.
I've been in a cheese trance once or twice in my life. Gruyere grilled cheese always causes me to pause.
I love cheese, but not to the point that I would be in a cheese-trance. Unless of course I had consumed large quantities of wine (or tequila... forget classy! Go for effect!) first. Then I can get in a trance about anything!
I like Marty. He can bring cheese to any of my functions.
If I'm remembering correctly, cheese actually causes your body to release endorphin-like chemicals......endorphins are responsible for the elusive 'runner's high'. I'm guessing nutso ocean-going swimmers get that, too. Your friend Marty is a stoner, dude.
I take cheese quite seriously...however, it stops up my colon quite seriously...it's a trade off.
ROFLMAO!!! Have to agree with Marty...there is no finer food than cheese, however, I will try to avoid the cheese with the red sauce that looked like Carrie's prom dress...thanks for the visual!
Ahh Jacqueline. I heard that the best cure for constipation actually involves cheese. You sit on a big block of it and swallow a rat head first. Hee.
I once heard that virgin wool comes from ugly sheep. Does virgin olive oil come from homely olives?
I am Marty's female, Australian doppelganger.
Brussels Sprouts rock (if you know how).
George W Shrub is not the leader of the free world. He is the President of America. Plenty of free world left in other continents with other leaders. Just in case you were wondergng :D
Someone needs to start a web site called "CheeseShrink" for Marty. I bet THAT'll get a lot of traffic!
I'm not sure what a sociopathic love affair with cheese is, but therapy will do him no good. There is no cure!
The only thing that will cure his love affair is mild case of artery hardening. Hopefully, he'll have a full and healthy affair ;)
I was waiting for the "cut the cheese" joke to materialize, but alas, nothing. I am somewhat disappointed..
PMG I was just at that party today! Only it wasn't Marty but the friend of my husband's aunt who went to Whole Foods and got all cheese-crazy. She arrived late and a good thing too, since we had eated almost all the cheese and she had more for us.
I guess it eas that kind of party. I want the saucy Carrie cheese - it sounds tasty!
My 4 year old daughter gives you Kudos for referencing Mary Poppins. She is her biggest fan.
i was born in Wisconsin.
and even i don't get this excited about cheese.
heh.
I bet he'd look at those contracts if you dipped them in melted Havarti first.
I am among the cheese lovers out there so I can relate with Marty. I'll take a chunk of cheddar any day... but I wouldn't be caught dead eating cheese that smelled like somebody's butthole.
Wait! There is something more important than cheese?! I cannot live without cheese. The stinkier the better.
ROFLMAO!!! I believe I sprayed something out of my nostrils when I read "Cheese that smelled like somebody’s butthole." I wasn't expecting that.
I'm new here and will be coming back. You are one funny dad!
I actually had a baked cambozola at Joe DiMaggio's restaurant that made me respect the cheese a little more. It was so good. I might make it at my next dinner party.
And have you not discovered lactaid tablets yet?!?! At least it makes it manageable and you won't gas your family.
I, for one, am only a fan of cutting the cheese. (I know, DGM, my humor is not even close to the level of humor you supply us with whenever you feel like it..but, farts are funny! Perhaps they are my cheese?!)
What a way with words.. very creative and funny.. I SMELLED the cheese in the room...
I'm a cheese freak as well, without being able to recite the many different types, textures and tastes. I just eat Home Brand. Lots of it. 1kg blocks of cheddar can be found in various parts of the house with grubby finger marks, edges and corners replaced by teeth marks. I'm like a giant rat.
Very funny post and great site.
Thanks
Reservoir Dad
Bacon Sprouts:
"Dogs... er, um, I mean.. Danny don't know it's not bacon."
1/2 pound Oscar Meyer bacon strips, very cold, sliced into fine "julienne" pieces
2 lbs of brussles sprouts, the smallest you can find: thumbnail-sized directly on the stalk are a gift from the gods, but most are sold loose - buy NOTHING over the size of a Kennedy half dollar. Find the hardest, most red cabbage-like heads, trim off any loose leaves, wash, trim the brown part of the stem if they are not purchased on the stalk, and halve each sprout so it looks like a mini-half-cabbage and cooks evenly.
Water
Morton Kosher Salt, (about 2 tsp. for the pot - but only after the sprouts are added)
Molly McButter Spray (don't mock, it works without adding fat)
In a medium-large pot (like you'd make pasta in), saute the bacon over medium heat until it is fully crisp and has rendered it's fat - do not drain. Immediately add the cleaned, prepared brussles sprouts to the pot and toss them in the bacon drippings to coat. Salt and stir again. Add water to almost cover, not too much. Place lid on the pot and bring to a boil, then reduce head and steam until the sprouts are bright, but tender. Pour in 1/2 to 1 full bottle of butter spray, mix, and serve.
I swear, they are not "brussles sprouts"... they are "Bacon Sprouts"
Oh, and they have enough fiber that to clear out your colon better than a Fleet firehose. You have been warned.
I've never triend them with CHEESE though, hmmmmm....!
Oh, that was "reduce heat" and if you don't have Molly Mc Butter look for "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" Spray.
Next August, Marty should come to the Indiana State Fair to see the Giant Cheese Carving!
http://www.21food.com/news/detail12757.html
Hey - brussel sprouts are good, but you're right about the cheese. I had to run to the can after all that cheese talk.
asexual olives are funny...
You are always good for a laugh.
I was waiting for some sort of Cow upraising... Maybe I have been watching too many cheesy movies lately.
I simply cannot live without Piave – (reminiscent of a sharp cheddar or of a smooth parmesan) - sliced thinly and drizzled with Crema di Balsamico.
Ooh – gruyere – a little stinky but delish.
Oooh, oooh – wait – can’t forget the buffalo mozzarella – on tomatoes with fresh basil and olive oil and red wine vinegar.
Did anyone finally ask Marty if he was going to eat the cheese or make love to it?
I bet he's got a big hunk of Swiss taking up the time he should have been spending on your agreement.
I am reminded of the Buffy episode that had cheese running through it. Specifically the quote "I wear the cheese, the cheese does not wear me."
just when i thought i love cheese, someone's having a cheese trance. guess i'm not addicted enough. :)