I had avoided any sort of US food cravings for 1 month. Then one day, while minding my own business, it snuck up and attacked. It was week 4. I was on a combi. Like a ton of bricks, it hit me. CHEESE CURDS. I had to have them. Fresh, salty, pure, naked curds. That's what I wanted. The beautiful little orange ones that are so fresh the bag is still warm. The kind of delicious Wisconsin treat that loves you so much it squeaks. Why oh why was this happening to me? Why couldn't I crave Lays potato chips or Snickers or something else that I could find at the local Plaza Vea? Or even a standard snack like M&M's or something that can be sent? Why must it be the most unattainable food of the Southern Hemisphere? Eff.
Since that wretched day, I have thought of nothing but cheese. Cheese curds. Cheese spread. String cheese. Breaded cheese curds. Cheese wheels. Cheese crumbles. Cheese wedges. The bountiful Brie my kitchen used to greet me with after work. The shredded cheese I would steal from Joe's fridge when he wasn't around. The cheese that Bill gets fresh for family events, then slices so thinly that it crumbles in your mouth. All I want is Wisconsin cheese. Or foreign cheese. Or aged cheese. Maybe I should request a cow for my site. Or a goat. A visit home next summer just got another item on the "do it" list inside my head... Cheese.
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