Chapter
Twelve
Lazy Lou
Once, so goes the sad story, there was a cheesemonger unworthy of his heritage. He exported a shipload of inferior "Swiss" made somewhere in the U.S.A. Bad to begin with, it had worsened on the voyage. Rejected by the health authorities on the other side, it was shipped back, reaching home in the unhappy condition known as "cracked." To cut his losses the rascally cheesemonger had his cargo ground up and its flavor disguised with hot peppers and chili sauce. Thus there came into being the abortion known as the "cheese spread."
The cheese spread or "food" and its cousin, the processed cheese, are handy, cheap and nasty. They are available every
where and some people even like them. So any cheese book is bound to take formal notice of their existence. I have done so—and now, an unfond farewell to them.
My academic cheese education began at the University of Wisconsin in 1904. I grew up with our great Midwest industry; I have read with profit hundreds of pamphlets put out by the learned Aggies of my Alma Mater. Mostly they treat of honest, natural cheeses: the making, keeping and enjoying of authentic Longhorn Cheddars, short Bricks and naturalized Limburgers.
At the School of Agriculture the students still, I am told, keep their hand in by studying the classical layout on a cheese board. One booklet recommends the following for freshman contemplation:
| CARAWAY BRICK | SELECT BRICK | EDAM |
| WISCONSIN SWISS | LONGHORN AMERICAN | SHEFFORD |