Confessions of a Cheese Rebel

Official Cheese Eater here..

In the TV drama "Six Feet Under" an eccentric older character, George, tells Ruth Fisher how his mother was neglectful and cruel to him as a boy. One example he gave was that she made him eat something called "Velveeta", fried in some kind of greasy stuff (bacon fat?) The viewer is given to understand that the Velveeta was cruelty in itself, the frying only added to it. I, as a British viewer, had to look it up. It's a kind of processed cheese product, apparently. I just now Googled and found a web page titled "11 next-level Velveeta recipes", and I think I can see George's point.

Dys used to joke about Velveeta a lot, on a2k and in real life.

Well Edgar, I will ponder this while I chomp on a delicious wedge of Kasseri...or maybe some Gouda...or Edam. Heck, might as well delight my tasters with all three!

Ah, the nefarious cheese eaters appear. Ponder this, about Velveeta: I once worked in a food plant in Manhattan. Part of my duties required the unboxing of huge blocks of the stuff, then grinding it up. Whatever clothlike material they wrapped it in, when I unwound the cheese, I almost always got a rash where the cloth touched.

I don't go near thant stuff, might as well have a can of Cheez Whiz if I want to offend my sensitive insides!

My friend in the 1980s got a job unpacking industrial quantities of Danish lard inported by a company making meat pies. He was always getting cuts from the packaging. He said the warehouse smelled of pork fat (well, it would). He became a vegetarian soon after.

One time, a hamburger place introduced a new burger, with three or four types of cheese in it. I reasoned, "I don't mind cheese in ordinary cheeseburgers." Madness seized me and I bought it and took a huge bite. Then spent the next five minutes spitting and trying to wash out the taste with Coke. Holy ****. There ought to be a law.

I raised a pig one time. Named her dinner, because I did not want people to see her as other than potential meat. One of the big ones, black with white about the shoulders and front legs. Turned out her disposition was sweet as sugar and she was about the same level intelligence as a dog. We were evicted by the landlord, so his nephew could take over the house. In the end, I had no alternative but to have her butchered, so far as I knew at the time. It hurt as if I had done Rocky like that.

No wonder you don't like cheese in general.

As a kid I didn't like food that wiggled, and for a child there can be many kinds of wiggly foodstuffs. I'm almost completely out of that silliness by now, except that I'm peculiar in my distaste for many ways of cooking eggs.. girl wants her scrambled eggs well mixed so I don't see islands of white..
and no, that doesn't mean I want them overdone.
Restaurant omelets usually work out as safe for ms. picky to order..

I love eggs in almost every style. When I fry my own they are very over easy. I like scrambled completely cooked, yet soft and moist.

wait a minute, are you trying to run with layman?
He hates cheese eaters and wishes ill upon them and theirs.
I loove cheeses, all kind of cheeses(except Ameriacn and cream cheeses with fruit in em. I favor cheeses with stinky salty, umami laden goodness. (Although, when they turn a bit ammonia like, I send them bqck to the kitchen to be fed to the cook.

I enjoy cheeses on triscuits served up with an ice cold ginger beer (American soda companies, with the exception of GOYA do not know how to make a sparkly burny unsweet ginger beer), and accompanied with a small can of anchovies and several big green kalamatas stuffed with garlic cloves.

Thats my breakfast.

Cheez wiz is what most Philelfyans want on their xheese steaks.

ANybody who eats Velveeta also thinks that Trump is a great choice for president

I'm convert to your breakfast.

I suppose I could write a book, ok, a novela, about cheeses of my life and their circumstances.

People don't say, "Who cut the cheese?" for nothing.

One time my step father brought home a great block of cheese. After we watched him gorge himself on a few large chunks, he set it on a cabinet and invited the kids to have some. "You don't want to eat too much," he cautioned. The other kids made repeated trips to the cheese. After a time, the old man made a slighting comment to the lone refuser, me. Then he went to the refrigerator and took out a bowl of boiled macaroni. "Snurd," he said, "get over here." He had nicknames for us all, except for Roger. He picked up a dishtowel and tied it around my head, covering my eyes. "I'm going to give you this and you tell me if it's macaroni or cheese. Open your mouth." The chunk he stuck in my mouth was too tiny to identify by taste. I guessed by texture. "Macaroni," I said. He laid his head on the table. "I'm dead," he said. "That was cheese." I never tasted cheese again, until somebody got me to eat a cheeseburger, years later. That I don't mind. Some Mexican dishes with cheese are delicious. My big bitch is that the damned stuff is almost unavoidable, day to day. That's why I enjoy eating at home.

I can't speak for layman. I have him on ignore.

yup, no more American cheese for me, which was all we ever had in the fridge when i was growing up...

Here too

I've always figured people working on recipes usually come to the conclusion: "This tastes like ****." So, they decide, "I will just put in some cheese. Then nobody will know the difference."

I always order my Mc D's Quarter Pounder Without cheese. Whatever that stuff they call cheese there is abominable.

But without the 'cheese' it's one of the best burgers around.