Cheese for Breakfast

Caitlin Miller  

Below are the first thoughts that run through my head each morning:

1. What a nice sleep…
2. How can I incorporate some cheese into this day, STAT

Which brings us to: breakfast cheese. Gross, you say? Nothing could be farther from the truth! Cheese is an important part of breakfast dishes around the world, a tradition that is tragically lacking in America. I admit, the thought of digging into a hefty cheese mountain first thing in the AM is not a pleasant prospect, even for me. But while all cheeses are equal, some breakfast cheeses are more equal than others – and the right cheese choice before noon will do wonders for the mind, body, and soul.

Like exercise, eating cheese gives you endorphins, and endorphins make you happy. So why start your day off at a five or six when it could be rocking at a ten? Infusing just a little cheese into your breakfast routine will do this for you. This is not hyperbole; it is fact. Think about the high you get when you eat some mozzarella for dinner, or grilled cheese or pizza for lunch – only masochists feel compelled to deprive themselves of the same rush before noon. Look, your body doesn’t understand the silly taboos associated with eating cheese in the morning. It’s just a piece of hardware wired to understand pleasure and deprivation. And when you deprive your body of cheese because “it’s just not something we usually eat in the morning,” your body won’t be vibrating at as high of a frequency for the rest of the day.

Need more reasons why you should wake up tomorrow morning jazzed about eating some cheese? College is all about working hard and staying humble. Cheese is a perfect way to start your day because it is the very embodiment of humility: it could headline a Broadway play, but instead chooses to work hard on the sidelines, popping in here and there to accent dishes as needed. To paraphrase a quote by Saint Augustine: “You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? Lay first the foundation of humility [by eating cheese for breakfast].” By the transitive property of “you are what you eat,” consuming cheese at breakfast gives us the perfect opportunity to meditate on those qualities we too hope to exercise throughout the day.

As I mentioned earlier, an issue that does sometimes arise with breakfast cheese is the question of density. The answer is simple: keep it light. And I’m not talking about cream cheese, which is listed in the dictionary as a synonym of ‘meh,’ which is a synonym of boring. Cheese is the food of the people, but it is all about indulging the whimsy and classiness in all of us: so none of this déclassé, middlebrow bullshit – let’s get creative. Over break I had a delicious goat cheese and spinach omelet. Goat cheese, the cheese equivalent of a cumulous cloud, delivers a lot of flavor and is a great way to subtly pack the cheese into an early morning meal. Another great option is Brie – slice some Brie finely and eat with a chopped apple or pear, and take your tastebuds on a one-way trip to Flavortown. Or, if you’re feeling especially frisky, a fresh ricotta cheese with honey is light, inhumanly delicious, and, most importantly, filling enough to get you to lunch with a smile on your face.

In short, there are two types of people in the world: those that enjoy cheese with breakfast, and fascists. Just kidding! But in all seriousness, if you find yourself in that first category, you’re doing it right; and if not, it’s never too late to learn!

A Hard Cider & Cheese Tasting

Caitlin Miller  

Zingerman's: you just can't stay mad at it for too long, can you? It's like an adorable puppy that you love unconditionally, even if it occasionally pees on your carpet.

What I mean to say is, Zingerman's has redeemed itself in the huge sort of way that thoroughly erases all memory of bland grilled cheeses.

My lovely editor Emma and I had had Zingerman's Hard Cider & Cheese Tasting on the books for a while. After a long day of Thursday classes and a much-needed nap, I hopped on my bike and headed down to Zingerman's snazzy new events space, located in the beautiful building once occupied by Eve. Surrounded by exposed brick, inlaid archways, and rustic finishes basking in the soft glow of several overhead lamps, I felt as though I had been teleported to Williamsburg. In a way that only it can, Zingerman’s made the space feel simultaneously elegant and inviting, chic and relaxed. I walked inside and was immediately greeted by two extremely friendly Zing employees who offered me a yummy apple-vinegar spritzer. Drink in hand, I took my seat at one of three long tables decked in white linens and a GLORIOUS looking cheese plate for each guest. I couldn't contain my smile. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

Zingerman's brought their A-game for the Hard Cider & Cheese Tasting. I had been to an event at their Creamery my freshman year that wasn’t so much a cheese tasting as a five-course meal comprising such light fare as squash burrata and goat cheese cake: after that night, I never wanted to look at another piece of cheese in my life. Thankfully, this latest event was more along the lines of a traditional tasting. After telling us about his prolonged experience with sickness, our affable host Chad opened with: "I was almost dead and I thought, if I'm well again, I'm getting into cheese. I love cheese. I'm obsessed with cheese." Chad also believes cheese to be a miracle. Hi, are you reading my mind? He just recently returned from a journey through England, Ireland, and France that can only described as the Homeric cheesequest of my dreams. Chad not only met premier cheesemakers whose families have been in the cheese biz for so long it practically flows in their veins, he got to participate in the process by making the good stuff himself. And I’m not talking about cooking up sketchy tubwater cheese in a basement in Manchester, but the real deal – Stilton Blue, baby, the British godfather of the variety.

Chad then proceeded to bring it on another level with his instructions on cheese consumption. Like a Jedi he informed us it is not enough to taste the cheese; you must become one with the cheese by completely smushing it between your fingers to feel its texture (somewhere, a Frenchman is crying). Did you know that those "crunchies" in certain cheeses, mainly cheddars, are actually amino acids? James Joyce famously said cheese is the corpse of milk – well excuse you James Joyce, Chad is here to tell you that cheese is alive and delicious and gets more and more protein-rich as it ages. You are literally crunching up proteins as you eat the cheese. Fifty gold stars for Chad and his Obi-Wan-level cheese wisdom.

But, onto the cheese. We worked our way through a Wisconsin cheddar, French Camembert, Swiss Nufenen, a goat cheese from Zingerman’s own creamery, and, lastly, an extremely pungent blue cheese. The standouts for me were the Wisconsin cheddar (my witty, eloquent notes: “sooooooooooo good”) and the spectacular alpine Nufenen, a creamy but sharp cow’s milk cheese the extras of which Emma and I actually stuffed into our pockets on our way out the door.

Here's the thing: I'm a bit of a cheese purist. I like my mozzarella plain and my grilled cheeses undecorated. But the most important takeaway I learned at the Hard Cider & Cheese tasting is that pairing a cheese with a drink – in this case, cider – can make an enormous difference. For instance, I’ve never been a huge fan of blue cheese: to be more specific, the smell of Gorgonzola makes me physically sick. But – and this was not the cider talking – when the blue cheese was paired with the dessert cider, I was actually able to palate its harsh flavor and, to my great surprise, I enjoyed it! And this wasn’t just a question of making otherwise revolting cheeses taste sweet. The Nufenen also dramatically improved its paired cider, and vice versa: the cheese sweetened the earthy drink, and was in turn softened by the cider. When something tastes so good by itself, it is easy to willfully resist the belief that an added component can make it even more delicious. In the case of cheese and hard cider, however, there can be no question of this fact: so honor the miracle of cheese with a cider and cheese tasting of your own, and celebrate the coming of winter with the perfect pairing of cheese and Michigan’s favorite fall drink.

America's Favorite Sandwich

Caitlin Miller  

Part I: Why Grilled Cheese?

This column has thus far focused on cheese in its unaccompanied and unadulterated form. As we know, I’m heavily biased towards a big ol’ round of mozzarella – but game recognize game so now it’s time to show America’s national sandwich, the grilled cheese, some much-deserved love.

I don’t care how black or shriveled your heart is: when someone mentions a grilled cheese sandwich, you suddenly acquire a thirst that can only be satisfied by a gooey smattering of melted cheese snuggled between two golden, perfectly toasted slices of bread. Accept that you will likely go through a dark range of emotions – anger, delirium, possible physical pain – until your cheese-lust has been fulfilled.

Scholars postulate that the debate over how best to prepare a grilled cheese predates the events of the New Testament by some six hundred years. To add or not to add a tomato, some eggplant, an avocado – that is the question. I am positioned firmly with the minimalist grilled cheese camp: to defile an unassuming grilled cheese with an egg is nothing short of blasphemy. The only dish I can unequivocally support in the betterment of the grilled cheese is tomato soup on the side. Dear God, is there anything more conducive to nostalgia and/or the over-production of saliva than the hot, thick aroma of a steaming grilled cheese and generous bowl of tomato bisque? The only thing that comes close is the actual moment when the sandwich has cooled down enough to tear off a hefty chunk, drag it slowly through the soup's surface, and bring all that cheese, tomato, bread and basil to your lips. That, friends, is as close as most of us will ever get to heaven.

Part II: In Which We Venture Forth Into Ann Arbor and Find Some Grilled Cheese

Look out for a later column detailing the making of a perfect grilled cheese from the comfort of your own kitchen; but, for now, the second part of this column will consider what Ann Arbor has to offer. It was the Sunday morning after our victory over MSU and, needless to say, I needed some bread. Also, I hadn't been to Zingerman's yet all year: it’s late October and this was beginning to bring shame on my house. What better moment, then, to do a little field research and locate a delicious grilled cheese in its natural habitat?! I'd heard rumors, whisperings of Zingerman's “Todd’s Cheesy Weesy” bringing grown men to their knees, so camera and notebook in hand I trekked down to Kerrytown. Sidestepping the approximately three thousand people in line, I ducked past the bread station and $800 balsamic vinegar (laughing through my tears) to pick up my grilled cheese and requisite spicy Ginger Ale (red cap or bust – do not chug this stuff, your sinuses will burst into flames) before settling at a table outside.

Here's the thing about Zingerman's: it is an incredible business, the people who work there are SO genuinely friendly and want you to have a great experience, and the pre-packaged goods they sell are unreal. For me, it’s synonymous with Ann Arbor and I absolutely love it. But that love comes with acceptance of the fact that their sandwiches, sadly, can be a bit hit and miss – especially if you're ordering to-go, which, lets face it, is a damn necessity most of the time unless you have a spare two hours to spend in line. But a restaurant, deli, whatever, is only as a good as it’s most hastily assembled takeout item. And never have I experienced such incredible highs – the #36 with avocado should be a graduation requirement – and such devastating lows at the hands of a sandwich institution. Zingerman's grilled cheese, I'm sad to say, fell under the latter category.

To be fair, they did a lot of things right: namely, the bread. But that's to be expected from Zings: it was thick, buttery, and baked the most perfect golden brown I've ever seen in my life. It was art. And all it was crying out for was a little backup from a well-chosen cheese. Frankly, the cold, tasteless, and not even remotely melted cheddar that I found in my mouth after the first bite did not answer the call. This was not the cheese I have sampled at their delectable cheese counter, and it was not what I have come to expect from Zingerman’s. It tasted like a slice of Kraft cheddar that you pull out of a plastic bag – you know, the “Kraft Singles” you liked when you were three, right around the time you thought worms and sand made for an awesome snack. And the other issue was, there was not nearly enough of it. If you’re going to name your sandwich the Cheesy Weesy, I expect to be doubled over at the amount of flavorful cheese defying the confines of the sandwich and overflowing over the crust: again, not the case. I could barely taste the cheese through all the bread – the bread was admittedly delicious, but the grilled cheese is about harmony and should highlight rather than smother its main ingredient.

As I walked away from Zings disappointed, I realized too late that my less-than-stellar grilled cheese experience was partly my own fault. A better grilled cheese sleuth than I would have headed back to the sandwich counter and constructed her own sandwich, requesting multiple cheeses and specifying the desired level of meltiness. After all, we are the masters of our own sandwich fate. In the meantime, I am on the hunt for a more satisfying grilled cheese around town and am looking forward to making my own. Have you had an amazing grilled cheese experience in Ann Arbor? Send me on a mission.

Cheese Platters: A Study in Simple and Delicious Perfection

Caitlin Miller  

Forget exams, internship applications, and that three hundred page book you have yet to crack open for this week’s discussion section: is there anything more stressful than deciding what to bring to a potluck dinner?

You don’t want show up thoughtless and empty-handed, and you definitely don’t want to be the pedant with the expensive champagne and three full courses à la Whole Foods. The question is how to present oneself as simultaneously effortless, cool, and in-the-know in a single dish?

This is exactly the conundrum I faced on Saturday evening at around seven o’clock. Already late, I raced to Babo on East Washington with potluck invitation in hand (more accurately, on phone) and spent twenty precious minutes pacing the aisles like a crazy person until I finally spotted it: the cheese station. (How did I not think of this in the first place? I write a column about cheese.) Relief poured through me as I staggered up to the somewhat alarmed looking gentleman behind the counter and uttered the realest sentence I have ever spoken: “Hello sir – I need to assemble a breathtaking plate of cheese.”

What exactly does an awesome cheese platter entail? Certain blogs belonging to cheese elitists with way too much time on their hands dictate very specific guidelines for arranging a perfect cheese plate – right down to the ounce-per-guest ratio. Please. You don't need to own a scale for the precise measuring of cheese portions to be a passionate and dignified enthusiast. Just keep these simple suggestions in mind:

1. A cheese plate should have anywhere from 3-5 cheeses, depending on the number of guests. If you are aware of any cheese junkies in attendance who would happily gobble up an entire wheel of Gouda if given the chance, take note and be sure to increase the number of cheeses as needed. Remember that a cheese plate is typically an appetizer, and you don't want to irritate those who actually cooked a main course by filling up the guests on delicious Camembert, Gruyere, and various cheddars.
2. A great cheese plate is like a Renaissance painting – everything should be balanced and harmonious. That being said, harmony can be achieved in countless ways. Let's say you have three cheeses on your plate: you can opt for hard, semi-soft, soft; cow, goat, sheep; French, American, Italian; sharp, sweet, blue. Basically, you are Michelangelo! Get weird with it.
3. Can we all get our priorities straight and collectively promise to assemble our cheese plates on something vaguely resembling a thoughtful choice? What is the point of going to all this trouble if you're going to plop your poor little cheeses down on a paper plate and call it a day? (I actually saw this once, at an actual dinner, and it was very distressing.) Remember all that stuff about Michelangelo? The plate is your canvas, and the Sistine Chapel was not painted on a cardboard box. This does not have to be your grandma's antique cherry wood cutting board, but for the love of God at least lay your cheese on a solid plate.
4. If you want to get super fancy, or alternatively are attending the dinner of someone you're desperately trying to impress, you might want to bring a bottle of wine that goes well with your selection. This crafty move eliminates the possibility of your carefully planned cheese plate being negated by a sip of clashing vino. Awkward. Nobody wants their taste buds assaulted by the combination of a heavy red wine and buttery Brie. Unless you want to seriously annoy unaware guests as they struggle to cope with this unprovoked attack on their senses, plan in advance. Or, at the very least, coordinate with a friend.

Not knowing how many guests would be at the potluck I was attending, I went with three cheeses. The first was an amazing, sharp Cabot cheddar from Vermont that had been aged for eight months; next, the extra creamy Delice de Bourgogne from Burgundy, France; and finally, a sweet goat cheese with lavender and fennel pollen (!) from Cypress Grove Chevre in northern California, the same farm that produces the legendary Humboldt Fog.

May I pause here for a moment to note, oh my god Cypress Grove has constructed a singularly spectacular website on all things goat cheese. Bravo, Cypress Grove. Have you ever found yourself fantasizing about the massive three-tiered goat-cheese wedding cake that will festoon your marital table, wowing your future spouse and all of your wedding guests? I digress.

As I walked into the potluck an hour later with a bag full of cheese, I must admit I felt a little unsure of myself. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my faith in cheese wavered. Had I made a grave miscalculation? Would college students have any interest in consuming a plate of cheese? Or was I alone in the belief that a well-formulated cheese plate is a study in simple and delicious perfection? My initial apprehension felt comical fifteen minutes later as I watched a mixture of friends and complete strangers enthusiastically tackle my cheese platter. Let it never be questioned again that whether you’re a guest at someone’s table or just want to enjoy a fancier than normal meal at home, a plate adorned with cheese is a little whimsical, offers a little something for everyone, and costs relatively little money when divided among friends. It is an undisputed fact, like gravity, that a cheese plate is the surest way to turn any dinner, potluck, or night in with a mountain of homework from a banal experience into something classy and magical.

Ode to Mozzarella

Caitlin Miller  

So let’s get this cheese column started right – with a brief ode to mozzarella. Ah, mozzarella. Just how long has mankind been infatuated with this lavish little cheese? Since the twelfth century, when the making of cheese from the milk of water buffalos was first recorded in southern Italy. Historians generally acknowledge the discovery of mozzarella as the most important event of the Middle Ages, its impact greater than the Crusades, the invention of the printing press, and the Black Death combined. On the seventh day God did not rest; he created the water buffalo so humanity could have mozzarella.

When was the last time you ate a salad starring cheddar cheese? Never, because no one in human history has gazed at a piece of cheddar and asked, “Can I lay a slice of tomato in that heavenly blanket?” A thick cut of mozzarella that is delicious beyond all reason, on the other hand, is like a tractor beam for tomatoes. Add a drizzle of olive oil, some freshly torn basil, maybe a pinch of sea salt, and brace yourself because caprese hangovers are real and not to be fucked with. If avocado and/or olive tapenade should find their way into this mix, however, go ahead and abandon all hope of resistance. As you dive headfirst into that perfect combination of flavors (literally, you will physically dive), just remind yourself that there is no shame in blacking out in the fetal position on your bedroom floor in a mozzarella-induced food coma. It’s happened to the best of us, guys, and it’s ALWAYS worth it. “I’m absolutely devastated I ate all that mozzarella and avocado last night,” said no one ever. Seriously.

But mozzarella isn’t smug about being the greatest cheese in the world – in the wise words of a friend, it’s “humble as fuck.” And luckily for all of us, the mozzarella cult is especially alive in Ann Arbor, with institutions like Zingerman’s whipping up fresh batches of milky, elastic goodness on the daily. Grab a friend, some balsamic, a baguette, and find yourself a grassy spot to call home for the afternoon (if your mozzarella addiction is as full-blown as mine, baguette and balsamic are optional). Because whether it’s a small round, a large ball, or a freaking loaf, mozzarella is king and the rest are his lowly servants. Mozzarella is preternaturally flavorful, inexplicably juicy, and endlessly sophisticated; it is omniscient, omnipotent, and benevolent; in a word, it is flawless.