“Cheese is milk’s leap toward immortality.”
~ Clifton Fadiman
My latest food obsession is pesto gouda.
On our trip to Minnesota last month, we stopped at a cheese shop somewhere between Madison and Osseo, Wisconsin, and the proprietor offered me a sample of her pesto cheese.
Oh, so creamy with a hint of tartness and a nuance of “Italian.” It was divine. We bought a half pound.
I devoured the whole wedge in two sittings, topping slices of pesto gouda with fresh pesto and fresh halved cherry tomatoes on top of Fire-Roasted Tomato & Olive Oil Triscuits. Oh, with a glass of Ménage à Trois red wine. That was dinner two nights in a row. Yes, if you’re counting, that’s four ounces of cheese in a sitting — I’m not promoting a low-cholesterol meal, I’m suggesting a delicious little binge.
Anyway, on our way back home to Illinois, we intended to stop and pick up a pound (or two) of this delicious cheese. But going in the other direction, we somehow missed it. I know what the building looks like, but I can’t tell you where it is, other than along Interstate 94. Or I-90. Not sure.
I’ve made do since then with Dofino Pesto Gouda, available at fine supermarkets probably everywhere. It’s not quite the same as that artisanal stuff in Wisconsin, but it’s pretty good.
And then today, I found a block of Tomato Basil Gouda from Eichten’s Hidden Acres. Can’t wait to try that, maybe with some more fresh pesto from the garden. Note to self: Tomorrow’s to do list must include making pesto.
Oh, and picking up a good bottle of red wine.