Warning:
This is a post solely about cheese.
If you are easily offended by headlong hedonism, explicit language regarding intense enjoyment of the senses, or are a die-hard vegan, I advise you to cook yourself a lentil burger whilst listening to some soothing classical music instead of reading this post.
I may find myself distracted by the occasional, non-dairy related tangent, but...
... but this is a post about cheese.
A post about cheese and of my love thereof.
When Boy wants to show his affection for Girl, he a) takes Girl on road-trips or b) creates a cheese masterpiece to share with Girl.
I once couchsurfed with someone simply because his profile had "CHEESE" written on it.
And yes, it was written in caps.
When I can't sleep at night, I go to the kitchen, cut myself a substantial slice of cheese, feel like all is well with the universe, and happily fall back asleep.
The community I fell in love with in Slovenia would buy me sensational cheeses just for the pleasure of watching me eat the cheeses.
'Cos I kind of bliss the fuck out.
I could carry on (and on... and on...), but I feel that my point has been adequately communicated.
Girl likes her queso.
During my first week at The Yoga Forest, I met an Australian guest named Mikha. Mikha is also rather fond of cheese, and during one of our very animated discussions concerning the virtues of camembert and chèvre, my new mate told me about a wine and cheese place in a neighboring lakeside village.
And she made it sound like some kind of heaven.
Screw gates of pearl and streets of gold. Give this girl some gates of gouda and streets of stilton. And...raclette rivers, brie bridges, parmesan palaces --
Dear Jesus,
This is how you'd get me.
Sincerely,
Aimee
"We should go there on my last day at The Yoga Forest! To celebrate finishing a month of teaching and all that jazz. Can we? Please? CANWEPLEASE?"
Thus said, I have been looking forward to my date with Mikha at Cafe El Artesano in San Juan la Laguna for approximately three and a half weeks. And it hasn't been the, "mmm... well, that'll be nice, won't it?" back-of-the-mind looking forward to, either.
It's been waking up and immediately thinking (or yelling to absolutely no one), "21 more days until cheese! Oh, and 46 more days until I see Boy. THE CHEESE IS COMING!"
And yesterday.
Yesterday the cheese came.
And it came hard.
Hayley had just returned from Guatemala City with a newly purchased car, so she drove me, Gigi and two lovely Swiss guests from San Marcos to San Pedro.
Good GRIEF, I now fully understand why boating is generally the preferred mode of transportation between lakeside villages on Atitlan. I believe there are more potholes than functional road on this road.
And after about 73 hours of intermittent road (everything takes forever when cheese is waiting at the end, we arrived in San Juan, parked on the narrow street outside Cafe el Artesano and blissfully ventured into the most glorious cheese experience of my life thus far.
Mikha was suffering from belly things (surprise), so she was unable to meet me for our cheese date. But absolutely everyone at The Yoga Forest decided they'd like to be in on cheese (surprise), so our group ended up being fourteen.
Fourteen remarkably cheerful people.
About to eat prodigious amounts of cheese.
About to drink wine that had never been introduced to a cardboard box.
About to celebrate a month (give or take a few days) of sharing space and building beautiful community.
Happy.
You know your meal will be amazing when this is how your chef thinks:
Not only did the menu look exquisite (as it was primarily cheese, charcuterie and wine), the garden cafe itself was out-of-this-world charming.
 |
| This is the chef. Those are sausages that he cured himself. They, umm... were not gross. |
The wine arrived.
Drinking box wine for the past two weeks emphasized the goodness of the Malbec.
 |
| Gabi, Joseph and Odin. Gabi has been at The Yoga Forest for most of my stay, and I've developed a fantastic friendship with her. She made me a mostly purple friendship bracelet the morning of the Long Awaited Day of Cheese. I shall wear it always. And then there's Joseph. Joseph has been with me for the entirety of my stay and may very well be at The Yoga Forest when I return to visit five years from now (he came for one month and is currently staying for three). This fellow has an absolutely gigantic ribcage (someone was looking for him once. "Just look for the Canadian with brown hair, blue eyes, and the largest ribcage you've ever seen."). He says lungs occupy most of his unusually capacious ribcage space, but I'm thinking it's mostly heart. Joseph paid for all my cheese. I will never forget Joseph. And Odin is the brilliant Norwegian engineer with a remarkable philosophy on conserving energy/laziness that made me laugh on the daily. |
And then the cheese made its way to the table.
And more cheese ventured in to join the party.
And all of those absolutely sublime sausages tagged along.
And Aimee didn't even know what to do with herself.
It was the most overwhelming, heavenly, intense, varied and prolonged cheesegasm I've ever experienced.
And it was an absolutely perfect way to celebrate the end of my time at The Yoga Forest.
A month of community.
A month of kittens.
A month of shitting in an outdoor toilet with a view like this --
A month of sharing the thing about which I'm most passionate.
And then...
cheese.
Cheese sumptuous enough to erase the memory of a month of lentils (and the gas accompanying them) and all that explosive diarrhea.
Yes... Jesus, this is how you would get me...
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