DC Cheese


I can’t remember when exactly it started, but it had to be some time in college. While most of my friends were ordering beers by the bucket, I was still in school, clad in a shirt and shorts, rehearsing for a blueREP play until late. Performing in theatre had me saying no to a ton of stuff. No late nights spent shouting “YOLOOOOOO”, absolutely no drunken stupors that could leave me with a raspy voice, and nothing spicy, filled with dairy, or anything that affect my throat in any way.


I never really obeyed the latter of course. Nights spent socializing over alcohol, I could pass on. But food, no. Not happening. I ate spicy food almost every day, practically ran on coffee, and loved a good old cheese board. 

I’m the kind of person that finds solace in a supermarket. There’s just something about merely looking at my favorite food that gives me comfort. 

I remember going to Santi’s after answering a few excruciating emails over at work one day. I spent a good amount of time longingly staring at all the different kinds of cheese in front of me. 

The same happened while in DC. Vergs and I snuck into Whole Foods one night to buy ingredients for breakfast the next day. But that visit led me to go through each of the aisles at least twice. I was mesmerized, particularly by the cheese section. 

Vergs took one look at my face and said, “Just buy one, babe.” “I know. But which one? There’s too many to choose from,” I replied, one hand on a block of black peppered cheese, and the other with a small wheel of brie.

- I chose the former and completely forgot to nibble on it during our wine night. 


I love cheese. Whether it’s a pale yellow or a strong orange color, whether cut with a cheese knife or embedded in naan (as seen in the photo above). It’s just comforting. It reminds me of my childhood.

When I was a kid, I remember hurrying over to the chilled section of Carrefour, getting two packs of Kraft Singles and putting them into the cart when mom wasn’t looking. When we’d get home, I’d tear open a pack, carefully unveil the cheese from its clear packaging, and I’d take a bite – not too little but not too big either. I pretended being a cheese artist, biting away bits and pieces to create a work of art. Boy, did I have a vivid imagination then.

Anyhoo! Let me end this entry with another cheesy photo.





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Nyahaha! Love is a ball of cheese!