Alright, folks. This one’s not about sex or relationships. It’s about my beef with cheese. I love cheese, but it doesn’t love me anymore. Cheese up and left me about 10 years ago and I'm still not over it.
In my early 20s, I found that I was lactose intolerant. It hadn’t bothered me up until then, but all of a sudden, cheese loathed me. And, although I still adored cheese — the taste, the texture, the smell; how it melts so sensually when cooked; how it heightens the flavor of a dish when finely grated — I gradually came to shun it as it continued to hurt and abuse my stomach.
Not until then did I realize what a dairy-centered culture we live in. All of a sudden, eating out at restaurants became a bit of a chore, a bit less shiny. All of a sudden, I couldn’t just look at the menu and order my heart’s delight. I had to search for something that most likely didn’t have dairy in it that still tickled my fancy and each time the server came to ask for my order, I held my breath as I asked, “Is there any dairy in that?”
This hit me again recently when, after too little lunch and a nice hard workout, I went to one of my favorite restaurants looking forward to a great meal. The last time I had visited, I had had no problem finding several things on the menu that I could eat and love. However, they’d recently changed the menu.
I sat at the bar, all sorts of excited, and ordered myself a cider. Then, I took a peek at the new menu. What can I say? It was cheese, cheese, dairy and cheese everywhere I looked: cream cheese, butter sauce, creamed vegetables and more. But I was still hopeful. As many places now at least acknowledge the lactose intolerant, I thought that I would ask about the simple items like the salad and the burger — items from which the dairy or cheese may be easily left out. So, I held my breath as I asked, “Is there any dairy in that?”
The bartender looked at me like I was crazy to have even thought about venturing into the restaurant in the first place. As if he were about to say, “Lady, this is a classic midwestern restaurant. What did you expect?” Then, informed me that the burger had cheese cooked inside it and the salad had not one, but three dairy items on it and to take them off would lose the whole point of the salad.
My heart sank. My little treat to myself was soured once again by the shadow of dairy. We worked down the menu and finally found an appetizer and entrée that were dairy-free, but the luster of the experience had once again dulled. I walked out with a satisfied stomach, but still feeling kind of empty inside.
Maybe I was wrong at the beginning to say that this wasn’t about a relationship. I suppose you could say that I had an early love affair with cheese for which I still yearn. But cheese scorned me. It still hurts and I’d like to forget about it and move on with soy products. Except that the midwestern love affair with everything dairy keeps shoving it right back in my face. Yes, Midwest, I am so happy that you and cheese are so much in love. But could you just get a bit of a handle on it and stop rubbing my nose in it?
I must say Crimson you do pose a challenge to my Betty Crocker skills...I didn't realize how much cheese I consume until I had to leave it out!
ReplyDeleteWow! I thought I was the only one with problems eating out. I have now discovered I have a slight gluten allergy and I'm lactose intolerant and it is difficult to eat anywhere or anything. Thanks for pointing this out to the sensitive stomachs out there.
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