One of my favorite things about living in Wisconsin is the cheese. I like being the butt of many American jokes because of our beer and cheese obsession. These are two things that taste good, go with almost everything and are incredibly ingrained in the history of not only my German and Swiss ancestors but this county, region and state as a whole.
I like all different kinds of cheese too, like most people. Sometimes a square of Swiss or cheddar with a cracker. Maybe some havarti on a burger, or pepper jack on a sub. Or at Cheese Days, showing off to a friend visiting for the first time how I can smell the Limburger and eat it without making a face - this was a skill I first discovered I had in fifth grade when Mrs. Stalder bet me $50 in classroom Monopoly money that I couldn't do it. Actually, come to think of it, there are a disturbing number of times in my life I've eaten something disgusting for very small sums of money.
When I first started "cooking" in my teenage years, it was very teenage-y types of meals, which usually included Kraft macaroni and cheese out of a box. Yeah, yeah, I know that's not real cheese, but bear with me. I never liked using the exact amount of ingredients when I cooked and still don't to this day. Whenever I cook pasta, it is always "al dente." The same can be said for bacon, brats, burgers and eggs. If it looks cooked, I go with it.
But the problem I first discovered as a teenager was "how much added milk is the right amount?" I determined that if too much milk appeared to sit in the pot, I'd just add squares of Kraft singles. When I graduated from box mac and cheese to Velveeta and queso blanco, it meant another ¼ inch of the cheese block. Or maybe another ½ inch. Sometimes I'd go crazy and add a full inch.
But nowadays, I just keep adding until the cheese doesn't seem to melt anymore. Shullsburg Creamery cheddar, Italian three cheese, colby, provolone squares, havarti, maybe some habanero jack or pepper jack. This version of "cheese noodles," as we call it in my house, is always an evolving plate. Sometimes after dumping out the boiling water, I just drop in two 1-inch squares of butter and pour milk halfway up the pot and then just start mixing cheese liberally. Only when it settles can I tell if it's enough cheese. Always, the answer is yes.
At Olive Garden the other day, the amount of parmesan added to Courtney's salad and my bowl of minestrone would have put other establishments out of business. But the server assured us that we were not the most "cheese indulged" to ever eat at that branch.
This weekend was the Wisconsin Grilled Cheese Championship in Dodgeville, and I was slightly upset I didn't partake. If only because there wouldn't be enough bread to hold in all the gooeyness.
And my love of cheese is nowhere near that as many of my neighbors in this county or this state. My taste buds cannot decipher if the cow (or goat) was grass fed, ate berries or what other ingredients were added to the block. I just know that when in doubt, more cheese is better.
Burgers with a plethora of cheese, pastas of all sorts, pizzas, sandwiches and party platters - these make our world a better place. And I won't even touch on regular curds, fried curds or cheese fritters with ranch or honey mustard (heaven!).
- Adam Krebs is a reporter for the Monroe Times and is not scared of clogged arteries from excessive amounts of consumed cheese. He considers it "worth it" and can be reached at akrebs@themonroetimes.net.
I like all different kinds of cheese too, like most people. Sometimes a square of Swiss or cheddar with a cracker. Maybe some havarti on a burger, or pepper jack on a sub. Or at Cheese Days, showing off to a friend visiting for the first time how I can smell the Limburger and eat it without making a face - this was a skill I first discovered I had in fifth grade when Mrs. Stalder bet me $50 in classroom Monopoly money that I couldn't do it. Actually, come to think of it, there are a disturbing number of times in my life I've eaten something disgusting for very small sums of money.
When I first started "cooking" in my teenage years, it was very teenage-y types of meals, which usually included Kraft macaroni and cheese out of a box. Yeah, yeah, I know that's not real cheese, but bear with me. I never liked using the exact amount of ingredients when I cooked and still don't to this day. Whenever I cook pasta, it is always "al dente." The same can be said for bacon, brats, burgers and eggs. If it looks cooked, I go with it.
But the problem I first discovered as a teenager was "how much added milk is the right amount?" I determined that if too much milk appeared to sit in the pot, I'd just add squares of Kraft singles. When I graduated from box mac and cheese to Velveeta and queso blanco, it meant another ¼ inch of the cheese block. Or maybe another ½ inch. Sometimes I'd go crazy and add a full inch.
But nowadays, I just keep adding until the cheese doesn't seem to melt anymore. Shullsburg Creamery cheddar, Italian three cheese, colby, provolone squares, havarti, maybe some habanero jack or pepper jack. This version of "cheese noodles," as we call it in my house, is always an evolving plate. Sometimes after dumping out the boiling water, I just drop in two 1-inch squares of butter and pour milk halfway up the pot and then just start mixing cheese liberally. Only when it settles can I tell if it's enough cheese. Always, the answer is yes.
At Olive Garden the other day, the amount of parmesan added to Courtney's salad and my bowl of minestrone would have put other establishments out of business. But the server assured us that we were not the most "cheese indulged" to ever eat at that branch.
This weekend was the Wisconsin Grilled Cheese Championship in Dodgeville, and I was slightly upset I didn't partake. If only because there wouldn't be enough bread to hold in all the gooeyness.
And my love of cheese is nowhere near that as many of my neighbors in this county or this state. My taste buds cannot decipher if the cow (or goat) was grass fed, ate berries or what other ingredients were added to the block. I just know that when in doubt, more cheese is better.
Burgers with a plethora of cheese, pastas of all sorts, pizzas, sandwiches and party platters - these make our world a better place. And I won't even touch on regular curds, fried curds or cheese fritters with ranch or honey mustard (heaven!).
- Adam Krebs is a reporter for the Monroe Times and is not scared of clogged arteries from excessive amounts of consumed cheese. He considers it "worth it" and can be reached at akrebs@themonroetimes.net.