Appenzeller Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Two weeks ago I went over to Thomas' house where I met up with Roy and Mark for an informal wine tasting. Wanting to be contributory, I swung by the local cheese shop and picked up a couple of hunks of Appenzeller and Gruyere, two of my favorite cheeses that I used to get all the time when I lived in Switzerland. They are wonderful cheeses. Gruyere is one of the two traditional cheeses used in fondue, (the other being the iconic hole-y Swiss cheese Emmentaler). It is heady but mild. Appenzeller, however, has a bit more umph to it. The uninitiated might describe it as fragrant.
Ok, as smelly.
...OK, as stinky.


...OK! It's STANKY!


So we're all gathered around the bottles and glasses and we've all tried a sample or two. Roy and Thomas had been discussing the tannins and the color and growth potential, and Mark and I had been nodding in enthusiastic but thoroughly clueless agreement. That's when I decide to, shall I say, cut the cheese. (There's a really good reason for that euphemism.) The plastic wrap had barely been punctured on the App when all conversation came to a screeching halt. I wasn't greeted by any immediate enthusiasm when I asked who wanted to try a slice. Reluctantly, however, they sampled the most minimal morsels and I was rewarded with wheezes and coughs and gaspings for air as they staggered about like Fred Sanford in the midst of a "big one." (OK, so maybe it wasn't sooooo dramatic, but it was close.)

After the full measure of mockery and indignities had been levied against my precious cheese, I was able to extract a grudging admission that it really was a pretty good cheese, though they would not go so far as to say it was welcome at the wine tasting. They had some concerns that hints of "oak" and "blackberry" didn't pair well with "sweat sock" and "septic tank." They seemed to put a lot of emphasis on the distinction between "fermented" and "decomposed." I was crushed. At least until the evening ended and I realized no one else wanted the cheese, so I got to take it all home myself.

Well two weeks have passed and I have fared no better in my own home in preaching the glories of Appenzeller. I've been enjoying it slowly all by my lonesome and I realized that tonight needed to be its grand finale, since the Appenzeller was getting to be a bit ripe even by my standards. Most of it went into a macaroni and cheese for dinner, and a glorious mac and cheese it was too! (Even Stacy and L agreed.) The rest was nibbled on as dinner was being prepared. Afterwards, as I was cleaning up the kitchen, I was preparing to throw out the leftover Appenzeller rinds that were still on the cutting board. N, fresh from the dinner table, but nevertheless hungry, came up to me looking for a hand-out. He saw the cheese rinds, pointed at them, and made that usual grunting noise generally associated with feral dogs and rooting pigs.
Intrigued by the prospects, I handed him a piece. It flew, of course, directly into his mouth; it took about a second and a half for his eyes to get wide. I braced for the wail of fury, but in never came. The next thing I knew he was chomping down on the rind with vigor. It was all I could do to pry it out of his mouth. I spent the next minute or two surgically removing any last shreds of proper cheese from the rinds while N stood beneath me with his mouth open like a newly hatched blue jay.

That's mah boy!

Later on, while tucking in the kids, I sat down on L's bed and leaned over to give her a kiss. She immediately pulled back violently and turned her head.

"You smell like stinky cheese!" she cried.

N, however, warmly welcomed his good-night kiss.