Every once in a while, CGMan and I like to go out for a grown up dinner. When I say grown up dinner, I mean a place where there are usually no kids. Not that I have anything against kids (or grandkids) it’s just that I don’t have any anymore. It’s so nice to be able to go to one of those hidden, dimly lit restaurants, where its quiet and there’s a three piece jazz combo in the corner. Oh, it makes being a grown up feel so much better.
We decided to go to our favorite little place, on his last night in town. It was wonderful! There was the jazz combo, it was dark, and we were at a table for two. It was romantic. CGMan ordered us a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir (my favorite) and an appetizer of “select Italian cheeses”. It was fun just to be grown ups, trying things we’ve never had before. That’s another nice thing about grown up restaurants, there is no kids menu and never is there chicken strips on the menu. We always try something new.
This time it was the cheeses. We hadn’t ventured very far from cheddar and Swiss and the occasional brie. I mean, CGMan’s favorite football food is a cheese and salami plate. We were all, “Ooo lah lah, look at us having fancy Eye-talian cheeze”.
That is, until I took the first bite.
Someone with a little more class would say it had an “acquired taste”, but I’m pretty common and all I can say is that it was GROSS! This is no lie, it had the smell of a petting zoo. in. my. mouth. The waiter told us it was a “delightful” little goat and sheep cheese. Well, I certainly don’t know about “delightful” but it was very obvious it came from a goat. The smell was so strong, it was if I was standing right there at the petting zoo, feeding one. I could almost taste it’s hair. I couldn’t even taste the cheese, only the smell of goat. IN. MY. MOUTH.
Do I spit it out? I thought of that, but my eyes were tearing up so bad, I couldn’t find my napkin. Luckily it was only a small bite, a taste if you will (a taste that will never leave my senses) so I just swallowed hard and downed my glass of wine. Waiter! Another bottle, please.
I am quite proud of myself for not making a scene in our favorite little dining spot. I was even the dainty lady as the waiter took the plate, I murmured “Nice cheese”. Just like it was perfectly normal to eat cheese that smells like sheep’s feet. If that’s a requirement to be on the A-list of hoity-toity people, I’m really not interested.
After that, we had a lovely fettuccini with a white clam sauce. It was delicious! Thankfully, there was enough garlic to get the taste of goat out of my nose. I love garlic.
Goat cheese? Not so much.