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Too Much of a Good Thing

February 15, 2010

My sister is a fondue girl, whereas I prefer raclette. A big pot of melted cheese with bits of bread is awesome, but it doesn’t compare to the perfection that one finds in a slice of raclette cheese melted to exactly the right point (crunchy around the edges, smooth and creamy in the middle – oh yeah!) and draped over boiled baby potatoes. Add to that the tangy cornichons, some cracked black pepper, a couple of shots of kirsch or schnapps and good god, the world is a better place.

On Saturday, I became the proud co-owner of a brand new raclette machine. It serves 6, has a reversible grill plate on top and I love it. Just to make sure it worked properly (wouldn’t want to ruin Valentine’s Day dinner because of a wonky machine, right?), we decided to take it on a test run right away. Ahhhh…mazing. Bellies laden with cheese and potatoes and somehow quite drunk. We can now safely admit that we really don’t care about Valentine’s Day… we just really wanted some cheese.



That was Saturday. Sunday comes along and we are both excited about the dinner ahead of us. We light a fire in the fireplace, have some nice wine and thus begins round two of our raclette-fest. It’s so damn tasty and so terribly heavy, it’s not long before I’m groaning in agony. Perfectly melted squares of cheese slowly bubbling, gently browning and crisping and mocking me, mocking me, I swear it! Ughh… god help me. I want to roll over, but I’m too full of cheese to move. The pain is slowly starting to spread and an hour later, the slight nausea is worsening.

I awake the next morning and am relieved to find the urge to be sick has passed. The sensation of a large rock sitting in the pit of my stomach unfortunately hasn’t.

Too much of a good thing. Never thought I’d say it, but oh yes, there is such a thing. Ughhsdhhshdj….


 

N

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