Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Coming home one night, we kept getting a whiff of something…something rotting? dying? Sewage? We opened the fridge, and man it was fresh. As Adam gave me that ‘what the hell did you buy’ kind of look, I sniffed around everything, but it was hard to tell with all the smells of fresh food melding into one. Then the culprit – the Pont-l’Èvêque – and unassuming square of cheese that had the same consistency of brie. This was more like brie’s older brother who liked to kick people in the ass. There was no warning label on the package, only cute little figures of farm girls and cows in Normandy. We ended up tasting it, and it was actually pretty interesting….not disgusting…but not something to chow down on. So we both had a taste, decided it could be left to live a while longer (vs. being executed straight to the dumpster), and we threw it into solidary confinement on the balcony in it’s own Tupperware. Thank god for moms who bring you that kind of stuff! Tupperware here is insanely expensive. (Though I’m sure French people never buy enough at once to have to store things later) It’s also probably blasphemy to put riping cheese into any such thing. I will say, though, we had very few pigeons out near our sill as the cheese sat alone, thinking about what it had done. Long story short, we never got back to eating the cheese. It got more pissed the longer it sat in the Tupperware and let out its full revenge when we opened it again….we almost died that night. Lesson learned.