A Tragic Day

 

Today I had to do something that no cheese lover should ever have to endure.

When my boyfriend told me that he’d posted something to me from France and to put it in the fridge as soon as it arrives. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt that it was cheese. 10 days later and I was still waiting in front of the post box. Finally it arrived wrapped in my forgotten Indiana Jones hat and an apron that used to belong to Adrien’s grandma. Mont d’or:  Vacuum packed and highly dubious. I was faced with a dilemma: eat an unpasteurised cows’ milk cheese that is potentially crawling with bacteria. Or throw away a beautiful round of creamy Jura achievement simply because the French posties don’t know how to sort their parcels as they’re too busy smoking gauloises and complaining about the government.

After much deliberation and a quick visit to Tony at the Teddington Cheese I decided that if I didn’t want to die from an extreme case of food poisoning I had to throw it away. I’ll have to wait until my next visit to Lyon to get my hands on the gooey wonder that is Vacherin de Mont d’or, once more.