The Road to Turophile? Anne Saxelby, Benoit, and Veronica are at the fork, or the knife -- passing over little tastes each day that I stop by their stall in the Essex Street Market.
The road won't end at Saxelby Cheesemongers, but they are the vehicle and the catalyst. I realized, as I've eaten 3 pounds of cheese this month, marked in a fine Sharpie next to their given names on white paper, my writing and photos now have a different focus. Cheese does stand on its own, and it shall here, too.
I have to thank Steve Jenkins for teaching me the word turophile: from the Greek "turos" - cheese, and "phila" - Latin, or "philos" - Greek, beloved, dear. I was home from Park City for a weekend in 2002. I was writing a food column for my town's local paper, and Steve gives as good a sound bite as you can get. In our half-hour that I scampered around the market with him, I learned as much about cheese that I'd known to that point, as he smoked a cigarette beneath the awning, and tweaked product on the shelves. I added "turophile" to my vernacular, and thought of the word often.
The road won't end at Saxelby Cheesemongers, but they are the vehicle and the catalyst. I realized, as I've eaten 3 pounds of cheese this month, marked in a fine Sharpie next to their given names on white paper, my writing and photos now have a different focus. Cheese does stand on its own, and it shall here, too.
I have to thank Steve Jenkins for teaching me the word turophile: from the Greek "turos" - cheese, and "phila" - Latin, or "philos" - Greek, beloved, dear. I was home from Park City for a weekend in 2002. I was writing a food column for my town's local paper, and Steve gives as good a sound bite as you can get. In our half-hour that I scampered around the market with him, I learned as much about cheese that I'd known to that point, as he smoked a cigarette beneath the awning, and tweaked product on the shelves. I added "turophile" to my vernacular, and thought of the word often.
My life with and in food has not been cyclical, it has undulated. There were a few years, post-travel to Asia, where I rarely ate dairy by choice. Now, I find a dairy-rich and low-dead protein diet serves me well. The dead protein appears often, but not daily. I'm still a far cry from the vegan I was in college, and pescatatrianism holds no interest for me. If there were swineophiles, or porkotarians, that might be what you'd call me. That's stuck these past few years. Other than the occasional burger run, I lean towards pork. And queso.
I am endeared to cheese, I am its beloved when I bathe it in light.
And it is mine. Mood-altering, palate-pleasing:
It can be constant bliss.
And it can simply be artful and soothing and enticing:
