Perfection

There is little better in life than melted cheese. I have some cheddar from a local farm. It's pale, a sort of creamy color rather than the orange color of cheddar in the grocery store. All by itself, it tastes great. It also has a creamier texture than grocery store cheese, though not a soft cheese texture, quite.


I got some bread at the farmers' market the other day; it claimed to be sourdough, but it's not at all sour. It is, however, quite good, almost sweet. (I also got a bag of apples. Apples mean it's fall, alas. And what was I thinking getting a BAG? I've been eating two apples a day since, and they're still bulging out the top of the bag.)

I made a very basic open faced grilled cheese (not sandwich, just cheese melted on bread, open faced). This cheese melts beautifully, and then gets toasty looking spots on it. (Unlike grocery store cheese, it doesn't seem to separate into grease and something else.) It's so hot that I can barely pick it up to eat.


Foodgasm. Amazing how something so totally simple to make can be so very good.


I should get a gold medal in self-control for not eating more than two slices, but I'm promising myself some for lunch or dinner later. (I had some for dinner last night, too, and promised myself a good breakfast; it was as good as it could be.)

There's a balancing act here: I want the combo to last, but the bread will get gross if I don't eat it over the next few days. I could eat a ton at a time, but then it would lose it's specialness, and I'd feel overfull. So I eat my two slices, knowing a third would taste just as good, but leaving myself something to look forward to.