I’m sick.
Either that or I am suffering from North Carolina’s incredible pollen count. If you haven’t seen this yet, look up “Pollen North Carolina” and see the glory of my new home state bathed in a yellow glow. Pay attention to that color, it’s important later.
The downside of this is that I’ve nearly completely loss my sense of taste and smell. As an avid home cook and as a person who technically works in a profession where taste and smell are literally the most important things, this is worrying. As a person about to stage a defense of what some would argue is one of the most indefensible food products, perhaps it’s fitting.
I speak of course of American Cheese.
Asterisk: American Processed Cheese Product, or some other variant which speaks to the glorious nature of American Cheese. You see, American Cheese merely alludes to being cheese in its methods, color, flavor, and meltability. It does not inherently claim to be a superior cheese to its rivals from Europe or Vermont. It does not boast loudly about its origins, processes, or its nutritional content or lack thereof. It is a humble, or ashamed, entity which nonetheless casts a wide shadow over the industry.
Not all of this is undeserved. We’ve no idea what American Cheese holds. Whether it be by the block or by the disconcerting individually wrapped slice (Why can’t they do that with Brie? Who needs a whole wheel of brie?), we can only be sure that at the best of times it’s there, it’s cheap, and it melts very well.
That brings me to the upside of being sick.
Grilled cheese sandwiches.
Not fancy, crusty bread topped with sliced apples from the co-op and just-shredded gruyere melted in an oven and drizzled with a loving touch of balsamic vinegar. Those are lovely and I make them occasionally, mainly in the fall when I can get North Carolina apples locally.
There’s a farm near me that grows over forty different apple varieties. I dare you to name forty different apple varieties right now. You can’t do it. Our love for our four or five main apple varieties is robbing us of over forty different apple varieties! Apparently, there’s thousands! Read a book!
I’m off topic.
By grilled cheese sandwiches, I mean pre-sliced bread that comes in a bag slathered in mayo that comes from a jar and tossed in a frying pan with two wonderful pieces of American Cheese that came in disconcertingly individually sliced packages.
Yes, I make my grilled cheese sandwiches with mayonnaise. Try it, it’s wonderful. I can’t help it if I’m slightly bougie, I’m from New England. Have you ever been to Portsmouth, NH?
Anyway, my point is that there’s a glorious nostalgia in a lot of the food we foodies now take for granted or even disdain. I’m not telling everyone to go out and get a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in lieu of shredding up some cheddar and tossing it into a roux with fancy spiraled macaroni (Although let it be known I keep two boxes of the stuff in my fridge for a rainy day), but let’s be real with ourselves and ask if we’d really turn our noses up at it if someone handed it to us when we’re just too tired to cook something instagrammable.
Think about that staple of New York City my father introduced me to: the bacon, egg, and cheese (Technically one word, I know.) Some describe is as the fuel of the city that never sleeps.
Think about that “okay” burger from a grill by the beach eaten from a paper plate, if that. It’s not the best burger you’re ever going to have, but the moment you’re eating it might be one of the best you remember.
Think about warm bowl of tomato soup slipped in front of you after a day of raking leaves or of sneezing your ass off home from school, and ask yourself what kind of sandwich you’re going to dip into it.
Ask yourself if these things would really be made better by adding literally any other cheese.
The answer is OF COURSE THEY WOULD.
But they wouldn’t taste the same.
And they wouldn’t make you feel the same.
And in those moments when I am sick for the first time since moving out of the house, living hundreds of miles from home from everything I’ve known, I can find comfort in a grilled cheese sandwich filled with pollen-yellow, ooey-gooey American Processed Cheese Product that came, disconcertingly, individually wrapped.
If it makes you feel any better, I at least made the tomato soup from scratch.
Maybe that would be a good first recipe for me to blog about?