by Don Hall

Were a vampire to appear on one of the winding streets of Chicago and seduce me into a fatal hickey, said bloodsucker of the unholy would walk away with the eerie flavor combination of blood, cigarettes, and cheese.

As far as I am concerned, cheese is perhaps God’s greatest creation with respect to water and fermentation. I, frankly, love cheese. If stranded on a desert island, I’d choose an endless supply of Brie over the tools to make fire or access to pornography. It is both my joy and debilitating weakness.

Imagine, if you will, a world devoid of cheese. This is not a facile mental exercise, but an invitation to engage in an ontological consideration of absence. In this hypothetical wasteland, we lose more than mere flavor or texture—we lose a crucial component of cultural identity, of culinary tradition, and of the very essence of human pleasure. Cheese, in its multifarious forms, is the culinary symphony that plays at the heart of our collective dining experiences, and to understand why it holds this sacrosanct position is to delve into a labyrinthine world of history, biology, and sensuality.

Let us consider the historical trajectory of cheese. Cheese is, quite simply, the alchemy of milk. Ancient peoples, who had little understanding of microbial action or enzymatic processes, nonetheless stumbled upon this marvelous transformation if only to cover up the readily available baskets of broccoli. From the plains of Mesopotamia to the rolling hills of the Swiss Alps, cheese has been a part of human civilization for millennia. It’s a testament to human ingenuity that we’ve harnessed this process, involving bacteria and rennet, to create something that not only preserves the nutritional value of milk but also enhances its flavor profile in ways that defy simplistic categorization.

Biologically, cheese is a wonder. Milk, in its raw form, is already a near-perfect food, rich in proteins, fats, vitamins, and minerals. However, it is also perishable and difficult to transport. Cheese solves these problems by concentrating milk’s nutritional bounty into a form that is more durable and versatile like a delicious chunk of milk you can carry with you in rucksack or pocket. Through fermentation, the lactose in milk is converted into lactic acid, creating an environment inhospitable to many pathogenic bacteria. This natural preservation technique has allowed cheese to become a staple in diverse climates and cultures.

But it is the sensual experience of cheese that truly elevates it to a near-divine status. Consider the texture of a well-aged Gouda, its caramel notes and crystalline crunch, or the creamy, voluptuous decadence of a triple-cream Brie. Cheese engages the senses in a way that few other foods can. The aroma of a ripe Camembert is both earthy and pungent, hinting at the rich microbial life that contributed to its creation. The sight of a Stilton, with its intricate blue veins, is a visual testament to the artistry involved in its production. And then there’s the taste—oh, the taste! Cheese offers an unparalleled complexity, a symphony of flavors ranging from the sharp tang of a mature Cheddar to the mild, nutty undertones of a young Asiago.

I’ve long held that the stinkier the cheese, the more complex and satisfying the bite holds. A slab of mild Cheddar or a Colby Jack is suitable to eat naked but a morsel of Epoisses de Bourgogne, sprinkled with cumin seed on a sesame cracker, washed down with a sip of a dark beer is something that is like a kiss from a sexy French actress covered in tattoos and wearing an off-the-shoulder ball gown. Velveeta, while not strictly cheese, on pasta, vegetables, or a Triscuit, is a handjob from the same woman should she be from Texas and wearing a sequined tube top.

Beyond its sensory delights, cheese also holds a unique place in the social fabric of human dining. The act of sharing a cheese platter is a ritual of communal bonding, an opportunity for convivial conversation and shared appreciation. The myriad types of cheese—over a thousand distinct varieties by some counts—reflect the geographical and cultural diversity of their origins. Each cheese tells a story of its birthplace, of the climate and soil that nurtured those pastures. It is a culinary map, offering a taste of place and history in every bite.

Even better, cheese is a versatile companion to other foods and beverages. It pairs harmoniously with fruits, nuts, and cured meats, creating a tableau of complementary textures and flavors. A robust red wine can accentuate the creamy richness of a Camembert, while a crisp white can cut through the density of a blue cheese. Bread and cheese, a combination so elemental it’s practically archetypal, speaks to our deepest culinary instincts. This versatility is another aspect of cheese’s perfection—it can be a humble snack, a gourmet delicacy, or the centerpiece of a sophisticated meal.

Cheese also encapsulates a remarkable paradox: it is both simple and complex. At its core, it is milk and salt, transformed through time and bacterial action. Yet, the variations in method, timing, temperature, and microbial cultures result in an astounding diversity of outcomes. This complexity within simplicity is what makes cheese a subject of endless fascination and study. To delve into the world of cheese is to embark on a journey of perpetual discovery, each new variety offering a fresh revelation.

To crown cheese as the perfect food is not hyperbole but an acknowledgment of its multifaceted excellence. It is a product of history, biology, and culture, a sensory delight, a social binder, and a versatile culinary companion. Cheese is a testament to human creativity and nature’s bounty, a sublime intersection of science and art. It is, in the truest sense, a marvel, a wonder, a gastronomic gift that continues to enrich our lives with every glorious bite.

If I could find a spouse who I crave and love as much as I do cheese, I might be able to stay married for my relationship with cheese is absolutely til death do us part.