Adventures With Cheese

I'm a certified cheesophobe. I don't discriminate on matters of race, religion, or creed but I do discriminate when it comes to goat, feta and bleu. They're all gross. Cheese is gross. I'm a cheesophobe.As the Archie Bunker of cheeses, I am now checking myself into cheese rehab and attempting to forge not only a tolerance but an appreciation for cheese. I began, tonight, at Whole Foods looking for a cheese that would compliment my olive bread.I asked the cheese woman for assistance."Cheese woman," I said, "I recently baked a loaf of olive bread. What cheese would go well with it?"Cheese woman gave me a blank stare."Well something soft probably," she said, "so it doesn't overpower the bread."She suggested a Pyrenees.Researching online, I see now that Pyrenees is a region in southwest France. This particular cheese was a cow's milk cheese and looked like this:I think it's interesting how the holes in the cheese from fermentation mirror the holes in the fermented bread.I bought some salad ingredients too, came home, and made a sophisticated Friday night dinner. Notice the cheese scrapings on top of the bread:The cheese was nice, creamy, with a little bit of tang. Interesting how some of our favorite foods--bread, cheese, wine--are basically the products of spoilage. Leave something out to rot and we'll gobble it up. Humans are so weird.