How could something so rotten be so good? Smells like ass but tastes like butter.

Well, needless to say, I am a cheese monster. I have written it here and have said it aloud a million times. I love cheese.

But good cheese is expensive. Unbelievably good cheese is unreachable. This realization led me to tap on my desire to once again take matters into my own hands: I will make cheese.

As you already know, I make my own bread now. So armed with this new activity in my life, I am inclined to make my own cheese. I couldn’t be that hard, I suppose. There should be some online guide or how-to-rot-milk-and-come-up-with-cheese instructions that I could follow.

And there it is, The Cheese Queen herself, Ricki Carrol!

She is selling kits complete with the cool bacteria and other tools needed to make my very own cheese right from my kitchen. Isn’t that amazing? Homemade mozzarella, ricotta, cheddar, and Parmesan–all the great tasting dairy stink bombs can be done at last.

I am interested in trying the mozzarella kit and the basic hard cheese kit first. If I produce edible cheese from these, then I won’t look back. Call me the bread man or the cheesy guy I don’t care. Even if I show up at work smelling like sautéed underwear, I won’t mind as long as I can make cheese.

Now, from what appears, cheese is more of a science project. The use of thermometers, living microbes, stainless steel cauldrons, and ancient looking presses seem more like a lab project than a kitchen chore. But it surely looks exciting.

I think if I can successfully pull off this cheese project, I will start to affect my speech with some accents: French on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, when I make brie and gruyere. Italian on Tuesday and Thursday, when I make mozzarella, ricotta, Parmesan, and pecorino. And perhaps, English on the weekend when I make cheddar. Sounds cool but stupid all together.

Like the bread-making and French cooking projects, I will also post my cheese making progress here.

I wonder if McDonalds misses me.

I am a faithful person. Once I commit myself into doing something, I keep that commitment no matter what.

That is why after several months of committing to a lifestyle of eating only local, whole, organic, beyond organic, fresh foods, I found myself enjoying a Big Mac and an extra large order of fries.

Just kidding.

But in the two weeks that I haven’t been posting here (I was busy with guests the whole time), I have been subjected to several questionable food choices. First among many is commercial cake.

In those two weeks, after my French food cooking adventure, I attended lots of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with my guests and in most of these occasions there were cakes.

Though it is easy to pinpoint the bad foods in a restaurant menu or a dinning table, there is no way of telling if cakes are on my side or the devil’s. In the case of Devil’s Food Cake, there’s no question.

But how about Angel’s Food Cake? Is it really as pure and angelic as it sounds? If so, why are people often use words like guilt and sinful whenever they have this cake in their mouths?

New York Cheese Cake: Is it really that local?

Pound Cake: a pound gained for every box eaten?

The truth is, in those two weeks, I have eaten cake. Now I feel like going to confession.

How bad is commercial cake? Sure, when you buy a box, the ingredients are there. But it doesn’t say what actual sweetener they used, or what kind of eggs they included, or if the milk is laden with hormones and antibiotics. There’s really no way to find out unless I bug the store or the baker about it – a move I won’t do unless I want spit or other body fluids in my Black Forest.

In itself, cake is processed food.  It is a combination of whole ingredients that dissolve and into one another to form one product that has been a regular in almost every table on earth. From royal palaces to peasant tables, cake is the ultimate symbol of celebration. Try having a birthday bash without a cake see how it feels. I’ve had one such birthday party. It was every bit like having a bachelor’s party with your fiancée present. No sense at all.

Most good cakes come from non-organic sources. Whole Foods Market sells a wide array of cakes made from, they claim, organic ingredients. With this, should I shun the other bakeshops that use conventional things? The Carnegie Deli NY Cheesecake, should I forever say no to that? Magnolia Bakery? Crumbs?

Or if my hardcore paranoia even suspects Whole Foods, should I start making my own cake like I make my own bread? What course to take, I don’t know yet, but let me have my cake!

Whole foods selling “locally grown-organic” products that are actually from China.

Right now, the New Jersey Nets are sagging like cougar breasts. Not to mention they suck like … never mind!

Anyway, I was at the Izod Center last night and witnessed yet another loss for the Jersey team. Man, this team loses like there’s no tomorrow! They lose like their survival is at stake.  In fact, I am convinced that they are an “always say die team.”

Two minutes left in the game last night against the Pistons. The Nets were leading by five points. Rip Hamilton scores five consecutive times. Nets lose. Now, their record is the worst in the history of the league: 4 W – 43 L.

I overheard one of their more unknown players (the team has lots of these) while he was being interviewed post game. The guy, despite the horrendous loss, was all smiles: “”It was a great game,” he said. “We’re happy that we lost the game by only four points. It could have been 20.”

How about that for optimism?

So, where’s the food in this basketball story? It’s in the concession stand of course.

After several months of eating local-unprocessed-whole foods, I was reunited with coliseum food: an Italian sausage sandwich and a box of popcorn. There was soda, but I wasn’t brave enough to try it again. The reason I decided to try the sausage and popcorn was to find out if I would feel anything weird after a long period of time of not having them. I was face to face with these in a movie theater when we went to see Avatar, but I wasn’t quite ready yet and hoped for healthier fare. But now I am more secured that I will not be addicted to these things ever again.

My first bite of the sausage sandwich was good sensually and emotionally. Sensually because sausages are engineered to appeal to the senses: juicy, salty, and texturally pleasing. Emotionally because one bite immediately ushered in a rush of childhood memories. The parades. The football games. The summer outings.

It was the same with the popcorn. Though the box boasted some added vitamins and minerals, I didn’t give it plus points. But yeah, as usual, it was delicious.

Now, did I get sick after eating these things now that I am strictly observing a local-unprocessed-whole-natural lifestyle?

No.

Did it add to the experience of watching a basketball game?

Yes.

Am I going to re-insert these items back into my table?

No.

Will I always have these every time I watch movies or sports?

No.

But I am relieved I ate these last night and proved to myself that I did not turn into a food snob that everybody hates. I proved that in a given situation, I could allow myself some of these things to enhance any experience that culture dictates.

Of course I could improve the experience by choosing healthier fare instead of the conventional kind like homemade sausages made of grass-fed beef or pork and home cooked popcorn.  But in a situation when choices aren’t there, I guess, the best way is to eat the sandwich, munch on the popcorn, and enjoy the game. At least there is the consolation that these food items are real foods unlike the dreaded Chicken Nuggets.

By the way, I am a Celtics fan.

Tomatoes from the lab