I know who moved my cheese

Didn't I say this would happpen? (And by "this," I mean WholeFoods would wait until I was addicted to Seaside Cheddar and then take it off the shelves?)

This weekend, on our grocery hunt, I blithely strolled into the cheez dept to score my fix.

But.

I.

Couldn't.

Find.

It.

I peered behind Piave, looked under Limburger, searched by the Stilton. Nothing.

So I asked the cheeseguy, who gave me a sympathetic look and said, "Yeah ... I'm not sure whether we'll be carrying it any more."

What??

Apparently, the cost went up; instead of being sold to the store by the pound, it was now being sold per piece, and the price difference was going to be too great to be worth it.

And then I learned something interesting about WholeFoods's business model: according to cheeseguy, each store orders its stuff separately.

So rather than all Boston-area stores getting together and putting in a bulk order for Seaside Cheddar, it seems, the orders trickle in from individual branches. So much for buying power.

This does mean, of course, there's still reason for optimism: just because one branch of WholeFoods is no longer able to feed my addiction, it doesn't mean I can't score elsewhere.

Anyway, I suspect Seaside Cheddar is a gateway cheese. If I can't find more, I'll be forced to move on to the hard stuff (like a salty-sweet, butterscotchy aged Gouda).

Aaaahm ... waitin' for my (cheese) maaaaan ...

To reassure The Boy

The Boy is away in Miami this week, being corporate. As is often the case when he leaves me to fend for myself, he worries that I eat enough (bless 'im).

He knows I'm not likely to spend hours creating a culinary masterpiece when I can quickly slap together a couple of slices of bread and cheese (like the fabulous Seaside cheddar with which I am currently obsessed; it's strong and mature, with crunchy calcium bits. Apparently it's a WholeFoods exclusive. I'm convinced that they're waiting until I'm completely addicted, and then they'll stop carrying it ...)

Sorry, that was a tangent, wasn't it?

Anyway, to quell The Boy's fears that I'm starving myself, this was last night's dinner:



Okay, I did slap some bread together, but it was organic wholewheat, filled with Alaskan salmon and cucumber. Add a couple of grilled asparagus and some leftover salad (greens, tomatoes, apple, green beans) and it's a tasty plateful.

And this morning's breakfast?



A yogurt-banana-strawberry-orange smoothie and a bowl of oatmeal topped with strawberry-rhubarb sauce.

Yeah, I'd say I'm eating okay.

The wearing of the red, white and blue. Or not.

April 23 was St. George's Day. But I don't need to tell you that, right? Unless you celebrated so heavily that you're only just waking up. Woo! A crazy time, what with everyone wearing "Kiss me, I'm English" shirts and the Chicago River dyed red, white and blue, and local politicians mentioning ancestors who fought at the Battle of Hastings, and all the bars offering half-price pints of sausage rolls?

Oh, right, that didn't happen.

You'd think the pubs, at least, would jump on the bandwagon, given that there are few other promotional excuses between St Patrick's Day and Cinco de Mayo. Though perhaps the day's timing isn't great in Massachusetts, following as it does on the heels of Patriots' Day.

In England, until recently, patriotism and nationalism were a little too closely intertwined; for some, the Union flag had symbolism similar to the Confederate flag over here. But the tide is turning, largely because English pubs have realized there might be a bob or two in it.

At LimeyG headquarters, of course, we were already prepared.

Breakfast: Heinz baked beans on toast (topped with my new obsession, Seaside cheddar).



Lunch: cheese and pickle sandwiches. Has to be Branston Pickle.



Dinner: shepherd's pie.



We'd planned to crack open a tin of Heinz treacle sponge pudding, but the temperature had been in the very un-English high seventies all day, and somehow a bowl of dense, sweet cake topped with hot custard just wasn't as appealing.

Oh well, I guess we can always save that for next year's debauched festivities.