This morning I was reading about cheese on Wikipedia (I know! My life is insane!), and I learned that the U.S. is the #1 cheese producer in the world, making 4,275,000 metric tons of cheese per year.

But what about cheese consumption? We're not even in the top 10!

Greece is first, with 27.3 kilograms per person per year, while the U.S. is at a lowly 14.1 kilograms per person per year.

C'mon U.S. of A.! We call ourselves a nation of over eaters and we're not even in the top 10 of cheese consumption?!

...Or maybe it's just that all that "artificial cheese" in Nacho Cheese Doritos doesn't count towards our consumption average. Hmm.

My new favorite intro to a magazine article (from the Wired magazine article "Stars on Parade" by Rebecca Milzoff, March 2007):

Gregory Keller is standing in front of the Gourmet Garage, an upscale grocery in New York's West Village. "It's cheese!" he exclaims to no one in particular.

For my latest installment of Berg with Cheese I decided to stop into a local cheese shop, Pastoral, a store I've lived a few blocks from for years but had never bothered to go into. Oh, how I wish I had those years back.

You know that crazy uncle you have who knows everything there is to know about ball bearings? Or the best friend who knows every stat from every season of the Cubs? Well that's what the staff at Pastoral is like, except with cheese. "What's this one like?" I would ask, in turn getting a two minute summary. "Um, what about this one?" I said, pointing to another. And again, without hesitation, an excellent description and background on the cheese. These people knew their cheeses! As if that weren't enough, they handed out samples the way President Bush hands out nicknames. "Have some of this," they'd say, cutting off a small slice. Even cheeses I wasn't looking at. "This is good," they'd say, cutting something up, "try it." Was this a cheese shop or heaven? I couldn't tell!

While there I ended up getting some St Marcellin, a really great soft French cheese, sold wrapped in leaves. Very soft and stinky. Tre magnifique! I also ended up getting a wonderful bleu cheese called Blue d'Auvergne, which was also made in France. And unlike my previous bleu cheese purchase (the Point Reyes bleu I had gotten from House of Glunz) it wasn't overwhelmingly strong so I could eat more than a bite or two at once. Perfect for those there's-nothing-else-in-the-house-so-I-guess-I'm-gonna-have-to-have-cheese-
and-crackers-for-dinner kind of nights.

Most amazing of all, my entire purchase was under $10. Tre magnifique, indeed.

Scene: The other day Katie is apologizing for getting drunk the night before.

Katie: I didn't say anything mean, did I?
Me: No, but you did get kinda bossy.
Katie: Bossy?
Me: (I fake despair) It was actually kinda rude. You can't just boss me around, Katie. I mean, I'm not an object.
Katie: Actually you are an object. (she nods, consolingly) And when I talk about you to other people I just refer to you as Meat.
Me: (exasperated) Meat?
Katie: Yup. People will ask what I'm up to later and I'll say, "Oh, I'm hanging out with Meat." (she pauses a moment and gets a pensive look on her face) It's ironic, your name is Meat and you have a blog where you write about cheese. Hmm.

The other day, while searching online for this week's Berg with Cheese selection, I came across House of Glunz. Centerstage listed it under it's Chicago Cheese Shops so I figured it'd be exactly what I was looking for.

Yesterday afternoon I headed down to Old Town, only to discover that Houe of Glunz was a heckuva lot of wine, and very little cheese. I made the best of the situation and walked around the store a bit, grabbing a bottle of red. "I recommend that Antonia," the guy behind the counter said, noticing my selection. "But then again, my name is Antonio." I courtesy laughed and asked, "I heard you guys had a cheese section."

Antonio led me towards the back and pointed towards a small cooler with only a handful of cheeses. "That's our cheese section," he said. Not exactly what I had in mind, but when in Rome...

"What kind of cheeses do you usually like?" Antonio asked me, and I replied that I like everything from sharp cheddars to soft, stinky cheeses. "Bleu cheese?" he asked, and I nodded excitedly. He pulled out a big wedge of bleu made by Point Reyes over in California.

"You've gotta get this," he tells me excitedly, handing me the cheese. "Great flavor, very strong. My girlfriend and I got this last week and ate the entire thing in, like, an hour." I instantly imagine Antonio and his girlfriend, lying next to a roaring fire, feeding each other bleu cheese. Quickly, I push the image out of my head and tell Antonio I'll take the bleu.

I walk back into the main room to look for a second bottle of wine, perusing bottles that range from $10 to $200, and I notice a sign that says that the store has been around since 1888 - clearly they know their stuff, and the store has a look and feel that really conveys that.

The bleu was less than $10, and with the two bottles of red my tab came in just under $40. Add on the non-pretentious advice and recomendations I got from the staff and I can easily say I'll go back to Glunz before I go to Binny's the next time I need a bottle of wine and a good piece of cheese.

Yesterday I was recovering from a mild cold (or at least a runny nose) so taking the brown line up to Lincoln Square to check out a cheese store probably wasn't the smartest plan to fill up my free day.

But while Googling "Chicago Cheese" (Yes, I know, I need to plan my days off better) I came across a link to The Cheese Stands Alone, a local cheese store run by a married couple, Matt and Sarah Parker (one can only silently wish to themselves that her middle name is Jessica).

Upon entering the shop my heart immediately lept from my chest as I saw cheese curds behind the glass case. "You have curds," I said to the owner in awe. "I can't get curds anywhere!" He shrugged nonchalantly. "I have a guy from Wisconsin that comes down every few weeks." I was in heaven, and needless to say I instantly got a bag of them.

I also asked for some Crottin Perigord, which I told him I was probably butchering the pronunciation of. "Croteen," he said, correcting me. "Just talk like you're pretending to be Pepé Le Pew and you'll sound fine."

Finally I got a wedge of garlic brie by Bavaria-based Käserei Champignon - good stuff. Anything that can make your breath smell for days can't not taste good. It's a fact.

All that and less than $20 out of my wallet. Oh The Cheese Stands Alone, you haven't seen the last of me.