Surviving L.A. - Takes Cheese Curds

We're trying to survive L.A., but there are times when we just need the comforts of home. For Richard, that means cheese curds. (Deep fried, of course.)



On my first trip to the mid-west I was given the opportunity to try a food product that Richard thinks is sent from Heaven itself...a gift of the saints. Cheese Balls. (Get your own - my very benevolent husband does not share his cheese balls [Alex, insert joke here]).



Cheese curds are virgin cheese. Unaged. Before the cheese advances and gets hard, it is formed into tasty bites that are evaluated on their squeakiness. These tender young morsels are then breaded and deep fried. Think mozzerella cheese sticks with fresh cheddar.



And L.A. thought it had the market on cool food.



The midwest apparently tried for years to keep a cap on its best kept secret. Richard ate cheese balls en masse when he was home in Iowa because they were no where to be found in DC. In fact, few things made Richard so happy as the time his family came for a visit toteing a cooler of frozen deep fried cheese curds...which are so plentiful in the midwest you can buy them in the grocery store....but not get them anywhere on the East Coast.

When I was still wooing Richard I tried to make cheese balls. I'm a pretty good cook, but this went into the category of complete and utter failure. Even Richard, who is always honest (please don't make this again) and sometimes tender in his criticisms could not hold back. "These don't just look bad, they are inedible."

Apparently I would fail as a midwest chef.


So it was grand excitment recently at 8 oz. when Richard raised his hands to cease all conversation so he could point to the waitress at the next table and demand "what are those? I need a menu now."



Wisconsin cheese curds. On the menu. It's very possible that was the reason we went to 8 oz. 3 Saturdays in a row.



I thought this was a grand find. A place to satiate the palate of my dear husband. An occasional stop between trips to Iowa to tide him over. Satisfaction delivered from a deep fat fryer. Little did I know....



Just as the smog in L.A. permeates your brain, so did the scent of cheese curds infect Richard's nostrils....not to abate. So much has this obsession grown (is he just crying out for the culinary delights of home?) that tonight in my in-box I have no less than 6 emails from him on the very topic....ranging from places to get them to recipes for me to try to make for him. (Isn't he sweet, thinking of me like that.....)



So Richard may just survive L.A. yet - due to this newest discovery. (And me, well, I'll survive wherever Richard is. [Alex, insert gag sound here] As long as I can make deep fried cheese curds.)