So we’ve got a giant fridge filled with cheese. Four or five kinds.

We’ve got the Tillamook baby block of Cheddar, which is always good for Grilled Cheese. It seems that I’ve been spoiled coming from Wisconsin, where cheese grows on trees, and it is as abundant and inexpensive as something like coffee should be out here.

(It’s not. Coffee is expensive and I don’t enjoy paying a lot for my coffee.)

Still, in the fridge, we have our own standby cheese, market cheese, and Calf and Kid Cheese. You remember Calf and Kid, right? It was that lovely little store down at Melrose Market I talked about last week. I got really excited when I saw that on Facebook they were bringing in the Mozzarella di Bufala de Campagna. I’m not a huge fresh mozz fan, but 1) supporting local business, 2) enjoying fresh items that are out of the ordinary, and 3) eating cheese are some of my favorite things.

So we planned a nice little picnic on our way downtown to see the local show at the movieplex, and we stopped by the Cheese shop on the way down. There were two packages, with pictures of our water buffalo on the front, and one of them had my name on it, if my name were “Campagna” or “Bufala”. I suppose it could be either for the sake of the story.  It was either that or the local cow’s milk fresh mozz, which was going to be more firm, fresher (not travelling from Italy), but also much different in flavor.

Buffalo it was. A nice loaf of crusty Italian inspired bread, some leftover arugula pesto with almonds, and a freshlike tomato from the City Market, and we had ourselves a date with Italy.

The woman behind the counter sliced it up for us, and we went down by the dog park with our backpack full of stuff. There’s not a lot that is more fun than watching dogs frolick while you’re eating tasty food. Picnics are great. You should try one soon.

***

Now it is the next day. There’s still some buffalo mozzarella left over, in addition to all the Cheesefest Cheese. We’ve got a cheddar and a gouda and a Spanish Mahon type cheese, and some cubes. A lot of cubes. I’ve made a focaccia with green onions and sliced garlic with herbs, and we’re going to have a fondue as well. There’s a cheese plate, and I think I should get some fruit for a fruit plate, and maybe some vegetables for the fondue, assuming that we can find our missing power cord. If not, there are far worse things than sitting around and eating cheese.

The salmon burgers of the previous post are at their resting state, and I have made a canteloupe drink that is full of canteloupe, orange flesh honeydew, simple syrup, soon to be a bottle of Orange Blossom Muscat, and seltzer with ice.

Buns are coming. There are many pickles to be had. Pickled ramps will make their final appearance of the season, and I hope that everything comes together so we can grill the burgers on the roof, even if it happens to be cold.

I have laundry in the washer, and I’ve vacuumed, and there’s always this pinch in the back of my mind that says that I have to write something. Just getting it out of my system helps a great deal, although I tend to ramble. I don’t know if I have it in me to make a blog with footnote postings, but the that’s not how the internet works. People read this stuff because books are not cool anymore. That’s why we have the iPad and the Kindle and those waiting room copies of People Magazine.

Anyhow, back to the cheese. I’m going to put the remainder of the mozzarella on the focaccia, and hopefully finish it on the grill, should we get the weather I’m hoping for.  The cheese is the best kind of floppy mush, and it has enough creaminess to cause seizures in small dogs. All the good weather in the world won’t make a difference if I don’t get in the kitchen and clean up after the cyclone that has ripped through there in the last two hours.

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