They say you are what you eat. If that’s the case, I’m a big, fat hunk of cheese.
I eat cheese for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack and dessert. I eat cheese with salads, eggs, pasta, fruits, vegetables and sandwiches. I like feta cheese, cheddar cheese, American cheese, muenster cheese, mozzarella cheese and even the notoriously putrid gorgonzola cheese. I think I’ve made myself clear.
I don’t just love cheese — I need it.
A few weekends ago, I went out to dinner at a very fancy and expensive Italian restaurant. Being that I was at an Italian restaurant, I ordered a delicious-sounding pasta dish. As I waited, somewhat impatiently, for my pasta to come, I salivated at the thought of all the Parmesan cheese I could put on my pasta. I was already feeling constipated just thinking about it.
Moments later, I smelled the sweet aroma of fresh marinara sauce coming my way. Finally, my pasta dish was placed right before me. With my napkin on my lap, and my knife and fork propped up, I was ready to feast. I took the first bite but surprisingly was not at all satisfied. Something was missing. The Parmesan cheese, of course.
I asked my waiter if he could bring over a bowl of Parmesan. He nodded. When he returned, he lightly sprinkled the cheese atop my pasta. It looked lovely, but I didn’t order this dish for its appearance. What I wanted was some pasta with my cheese. I asked for more, and again, my waiter nodded. But when he left, my pasta was already in need of a new layer of Parmesan.
A few moments later I called my waiter over yet again. Again, I asked for more cheese. He nodded and then returned to dispense only a few more spoonfuls of cheese than he did the last time. After at least three or four rounds of our back-and-forth “cheese-tag,” I finally asked him to leave the dish of Parmesan on the table. He nodded, gave me a few extra spoonfuls, but left for the kitchen with the cheese dish in hand.
I was furious. I wanted my cheese. I needed my cheese.
It was then that I realized at every fancy restaurant I’ve ever been to, the dish of Parmesan has never been left on the table. In all my many years of dining out, I realized I have been deprived of the amount of cheese I truly wanted.
What are the reasons behind such a travesty? Do these restaurant owners not trust their loyal patrons? Are we not good enough or capable enough to properly dispense our own cheese?
Obviously, there are only so many possible explanations behind this cheese-less epidemic.
1. Parmesan cheese, also known as the “King of Cheese,” is actually, the King’s Cheese. And we worthless restaurant-goers are not deserving of such a royal offering.
2. Parmesan cheese is an up-and-coming source to generate renewable fuel; only so much can now be spared for that extra kick of flavor.
3. Only fancy restaurant owners know the severe constipation problems it can cause, potentially even leading to the end of the world — Elvis Presley style.
But if not for any of these preposterous reasons, then please, just leave the Parmesan cheese on the table.