To put it plainly and simply, I hate anything cheesy. Ask any of my friends, and they'll all describe me the same way. I can't watch romantic comedies, the prospect of a heart-to-heart deep-feeling talk sends me running in the opposite direction, and if anyone drops a bad pick-up line around me I leave the bar immediately.
Some might say that this extreme cheese avoidance could make my life somewhat difficult, hindering my chances to fully enjoy some of the finer things in life. But I've survived thus far, and it's really not too bad.
There is one problem with my zero cheese outlook, however. Not only do my anti-cheese sentiments define my general likes and dislikes, but they also unfortunately apply to the food I eat.
I hate grilled cheese sandwiches, I never save room for cheesecake and, dare I say it, I don't really like pizza all that much. When people hear these fun facts, they go nuts and insist that I'm missing out, but it truly never phased me - at least until recently.
When I chose to attend UW- Madison all the way from New Jersey - I'm a coastie, I'll admit it - I was nervous. Everyone, upon hearing where I had chosen to go to school, would immediately exclaim, Oh, the cheese state!"" And the less knowledgeable would love to ask, ""What's in Wisconsin besides cheese?""
I guess this is a normal reaction to hearing anything about the state of Wisconsin when you're all the way from the East Coast, but it still sent shivers down my spine. Could I kick my old habits to the curb and grow to love the product on which Wisconsin prides itself ? Would I be able to finally come to terms with my archenemy?
Despite my incessant fear of all things cheese, I knew that I could not carry this bad attitude with me to college. I had to go to school with an open mind, and I couldn't think of any other way to do this than to embrace cheese whole-heartedly - trashy romance novels and all.
Even though this would surely be a challenge, there was nothing remotely cheesy about our amazing school itself. The football games gave me chills, but in a good way. The red and white unity of Camp Randall was inspiring, never corny or artificial. But, I knew that there was bound to be a close encounter sooner or later - a face-to-face sit down with the thing I hated most.
My initial experience with real Wisconsin cheese was at the Nitty Gritty the first week of freshman year. New friends surrounded me as a basket of cheese curds stared me in the face. At such a classic Wisconsin institution like the Nitty, I had to go for the gold.
I don't know what it was about those little pieces of cheese, breaded and deep-fried, smothered in Gritty sauce. But after one or two, I was hooked. The no-cheese curse was officially over. I had dived into the proverbial pool, and I was never going to come back up for air. Could it be that I had lived without knowing about something this delicious for so long? Was it possible?
I went home that night perplexed by these questions. I know this seems sort of pathetic. It is just cheese after all. But it wasn't just cheese for me. It was a new way of life. I had actively chosen to walk on the wild side and try something new. And for the first time, I truly liked it.
I thought maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe the sweet, delicious Gritty sauce was diluting the flavor and the cheese wasn't that good. This cloud of doubt kept creeping up behind me, so I knew the only thing I could do was try more and more curds.
I went everywhere - Amy's Cafe, The Old Fashioned, Dotty Dumpling's Dowry, Hawk's, The Great Dane - officially crossing over to the other, cheesier, side of life. I realized then that all of these new cheesy flavors really weren't cheesy at all. Each one was unique and delicious in its own way. I was a new and improved girl, even with this new, formerly frownable cheesiness.
I'll be honest, I realize these cheeses are deep-fried and metaphorically sugarcoated, but I had to start somewhere. Each bite brought with it a new experience for me and my taste buds. I don't know if I'll ever start listening to '80s hair band music or if ""A Walk to Remember"" will become my favorite movie, but I think it's safe to say I've begun to more than just live with the cheese. I've learned to love it.
If you are also suffering from turophobia, or fear of cheese, and need some moral support, e-mail akraut@wisc.edu.
