Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day here in America and it is with heavy heart and a full belly the day after that I announce my retirement from eating cheese. Yes, it’s true. I will be retiring from eating dairy. I have had enough. And I will endeavor to eat nothing but vegan cheese. This has me very excited. I’ve always wanted to forego dairy and tell people, “No, I don’t ‘do’ dairy…sorry, keep your enchilada to yourself.”

But alas, after this first paragraph was written, I had a discussion with my inner cheese freak and we came to the conclusion—him, more than me—that this would be a horrible mistake. A mistake worthy of censorship. A mistake, verily, of the highest order. How could I? how could I, a man in love with the queso, a man born from the streets of New York City where there’s a slice for every mouth. “Give us your tired, your poor, your hungry (or something like that)…this was the promise for people entering New York from other countries. And we, as new Yorkers, delivered on that promise. A pizzeria on every corner. A pie, pizza, that is, for every mouth.

Grease and cheese and garlic power abounding. I ate more pizza growing up in New York City in the 1970’s than I believe any short, little smartass mortal could claim. (Somehow I don’t think that last sentence is grammatically correct, but if it doesn’t come out in the auto-correct phase of this verbal wash, then it stays. You get the idea. I ate a ton of pizza. A “shitton” of pizza. That’s more like it. Everyday? Perhaps. Mayhaps I might have had a few salads here and there. And Indian food and Chinese food and possibly a piece of apple pie every now and then—but it was pizza, king of my culinary heart. The grandiose greasy gesture in my belly, that warmed my bones and gave me my daily recommended allowance of calcium.

So no, I will not be foregoing cheese. At least not for the foreseeable future. I have not woken up with a stuffy nose, or any noticeable form of congestion, I took my liver herbs and psyllium husk caps and even 2 charcoal caps (activated). So my gut is being cleaned as we speak.

And any cheese I indulged in (upon?) yesterday, like some lion on the jungle plains tearing into some freshly-caught gazelle (bad analogy, right?), I enjoyed every smear of that truffle-laden garlic-infused goat cheese log.

Before, during and after the turkey and trimmings.

Happy “something,” since we’re now onto the next holiday, ain’t we?

©2022 Bruce Palma. All rights reserved.