I’m taking a quick break from painting with watercolors and singing “You Light Up My Life” to post an important message.  I have somehow managed to go 38 years without ever crossing paths with this delectable creation on which I am now munching.  38 YEARS!
How, you might ask, did she manage to live this long without being aware of the existence of the single most delicious food on the face of the entire planet?
Because that’s what I’m asking myself!  Did I not get the memo?  Did I miss an important briefing about the food that would change my life?  Evidently.
I have been eating the stuff for at least a week without knowing what it is called.  All I know is that they hand it to me in the café…and I eat it.  ‘Nuff said.
But that was not enough.  I had to know.  I absolutely could not sleep another night or eat or drink until I knew (ok, yeah, that’s the exaggeration of a lifetime, but still) what this manna from heaven is called.
Enter friend at Hallmark.  (You know who you are.)  During a casual conversation, and while taking a break from sharing scoop about all our co-workers, I happened to say something to the effect of, “Wow!  I sure wish I knew the name of this cheese.”
She gave me the what-are-you-a-moron look, but then she ever-so-nicely proceeded to tell my cheese-ignorant self that I was eating smoky gouda.
SMOKY GOUDA!  This is big.  Huge…like discovering electricity or inventing the telephone.  That kind of big.
The entire world should, right this very moment, be gnawing on a block of smoky gouda and singing “Kumbaya” while holding hands in a circle.  Eureka!  I have discovered the path to world peace.  Thank you, Universe, for cheese that tastes this gouda!  (I know, I know…funny, in a sad sort of way.)

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