Thursday, January 1, 2009

Cheese gene

It is quite clear that C got the cheese gene from me. Every morning, when we ask him what he wants for breakfast, he enthusiastically says, "cheese!" "How European of you," we say, before cutting him a banana. But my husband knows as well as I, he can't help it. This love for cheese runs deep.

My earliest memories are from Sonoma, where we lived across the street from a cheese factory. I vaguely remember drawing pictures for the guys who worked there, and also receiving samples of the cheeses. My mom made fondue occasionally for dinner when I was growing up. During my year abroad then, I was ready to sample some excellent apres-ski fondue in Grenoble. I also grew quite fond of the regional cheese of the Juras, comte, of which my host family was rightfully proud. And even in Orange County, there is superb raclette in the winter months, if you know where to look. I can't wait to take C when he's older; that will certainly make him say cheese.

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