CUTTING THE CHEESE

“Need anything at the grocery store?” I asked Big Bore the other day before I headed out to get some yogurt. It was on sale at the supermarket where he prefers NOT to shop ever since his big pork and beans meltdown last year over its “limit two cans” rule. I rarely make grocery gigs anymore, which is the way I like it, but I figured I’d spare him having to walk into enemy territory.

BB asked me to pick up a block of Kraft cheese, extra sharp. No sweat. I could do it. After all, it was in the same department as the yogurt, so I wouldn’t get lost. I plunked down what I thought was way too much money for a 10 oz. gold brick, over 5 bucks, got my bargain yogurt, and went on my merry way.

Well, the next day BB decided to dig into the cheese with some crackers when he got home from work, but his dining pleasure came to an immediate halt when he tore off the red Kraft wrapper. One end of the cheddar was a not-so-appetizing greenish-gray (above picture is the real deal). I disgustedly dug up the sales receipt and offered to make a return trip to the grocery store to take back the fuzzy stuff, but Big Bore insisted he would do it. I immediately became suspicious.

At first I figured he wanted to have the satisfaction of showing off the tainted product to all the customers around the checkout stand, just to agitate the manager. “Attention shoppers!” he’d shout. “There’s a special on moldy cheese at register two!”

Then it dawned on me the real reason why he was so intent on taking back the cheese himself. I’d mucked up by selecting the crappy Kraft in the first place, so he probably didn’t trust me to select a mold-free replacement. I just do not have the grocery shopping savvy of the resident expert at Casa de la Flaming Bore.

“You want to make sure you don’t get mold again. Right?” I asked.

He said nothing but smiled.

Yep. It’s true. When it comes to the art of choosing cheese, I just can’t cut it.