Camembert is a cheese that I was frightened to try. Not only was I cautious of its unknown taste with my taste buds, but I did not feel worthy to even try it. It is rarely introduced into the household I live in; we only happened to cross paths when my parents won it in a hamper of other culturally gifted foods.
Camembert is one of those fancy cheeses that are spread on the crunchiest crackers, and smeared on small slices of baguettes. It separates the school children who delicately savour their Camembert and chorizo crisp bread slices from those who are stuck with soggy cheese and ham sandwiches that their parents throw together. If someone has asked you whether you've eaten Camembert tart you've probably responded with a simple 'yes,' either mistaking the posh cheese for a Cumberland sausage pie, or pretending you have to gain trust within your friendship circle. Who knew that Camembert was a social builder? It seems that the more you are exposed to it, the more culturally rich you appear. (I've known many people who swarm in the greatness of the cheese.)
It's spreadable cheese. I'm not condoning it as the sickly Philadelphia cheeses; which we are so keen to spread on a bagel and top with salmon, I'm suggesting it has a much simpler taste. It's a pleasant taste; soft, light, and smooth. It certainly softens the flavours of pepperoni, chorizo, and salami. There is a variety of ways that you can eat it; cold, barbecued, warmed. It would offend the cheese to stick your finger in and scoop a slice out; it has such a hierarchal position in the cheese world it would probably bite you if you tried. It definitely needs its own shelf in the fridge, or its own fridge to live in.
Camembert is the first cousin of a cheese most of us all know well. As I bit on the bread and cheese mix, I regressed back to my youth. It appeared that Camembert was reincarnated by the little Dairylea triangles. Does that make Dairylea the hierarchal cheese of the child's world?
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