What Cheese Taught Me About MyselfYou'd be surprised at the things you discover about yourself, despite your age.
I used to hate cheese. Like, really hate it. Anytime someone would hand me a plate filled with lots of cheese draped on top either covering the actual food, or clinging to everything like it was trying to smother the actual meal into silence, I’d politely scrape it all off with my fork and pass the sad cheese pile to the nearest and most willing cheese enthusiast at the table. You see, it’s considered more impolite if we don’t finish our food, so rather than it all go to waste and be thrown away, I’d hand it all to the closest, and most willing cheese lover. But during my university years, things took quite a turn. One fateful Saturday night, my cousin and I, bored out of our minds, decided to attend a free on-campus wine tasting, hosted by some professor who was apparently a part of some ‘prestigious’ wine society in Cambridge. (Side note: I didn’t go to Cambridge University, by the way, though I wish I did). Anyway, we figured, why not? It was cold, we were bored, what better way to spend a wintery Saturday night than sipping wine, for free? So here’s where the cheese thing comes in. We walked into the room and, lo and behold, there it was, a glorious table covered in cheese. Every kind you could imagine, all chopped into tiny, fancy cubes like they were expecting royalty. All we had to do was grab a plate, fill it with whatever cheese we wanted and head back to our seats, so the professor could start introducing us to the wines he’d brought along. I took only a few, ones that were safe. Like mozzarella (this one is always draped on pizzas, so I didn’t think I would mind much), or cheddar (this one is always on pizzas too and I love pizzas). I didn’t take much, I was just more excited for the wine, unlike my cousin’s, who’s filling up her plate with all the cheese. It wasn’t until we sat down that she noticed my nearly empty plate with just a few untouched pieces of the same kind of cheese. I remember her gasping and asking why I hadn’t sampled all the delicious-looking cheeses that had been prepare. I told her that I simply didn’t like cheese. And I’ll never forget the way she looked at me, like I’ve grown two heads like some mythical creature, just because I didn’t like cheese. Who doesn’t like cheese? Our family is full of devoted cheese lovers, so how did I come about existing? What did cheese ever do to me? Nothing. I just remember trying it as a kid, not liking it and avoiding it ever since. It’s not like I’m allergic or have some deep, traumatic cheese-related memory. I just don’t like it. I don’t like the smell, the taste or the way it clings so stubbornly to my food. I don’t even eat cheesecake before this. Which, to my dear cousin, is apparently unfathomable. She made me try it, though. Even though the wine was excellent, she placed some of her cheese on my plate and insisted that I eat it. She was convinced those little cubes would change my mind forever, so I humored her. I braced myself to gag as I took my first bite of brie. And maybe it was the cold winter air outside, or maybe the wine had given me a pleasant buzz, but I find myself reaching for another cube, growing curious. Then came another. Before I knew it, I was back at the table at the front, filling my plate with all the different kinds of cheese. Granted, not all of them tasted great to me. But that experience made me realize something: that if we find the courage to take a small leap of faith, just one step outside our comfort zone and what we know, basically, we might discover something unexpected about ourselves. Something new. And no matter how old we are, it’s still possible to feel that childlike wonder when we stumble across parts of ourselves we never knew existed. Come to think of it, I find it funny how it took my complicated relationship with cheese to teach me something simple and yet, so profound. I thought I’ve discovered all there is to know about myself, at that tender age of 20, but I was wrong. That night, over wine and brie, I realized how much more there is to discover, even within ourselves. Sometimes, growth doesn’t come from big, life-altering moments, but from the tiniest cubes of something we thought we’d already decided to hate. So don’t be too quick to judge or stay too comfortable, ‘cause what you discover about yourself might just surprise you. No matter your age. Sincerely, Cherie. The Whiffler is free today. But if you enjoyed this post, you can tell The Whiffler that their writing is valuable by pledging a future subscription. You won't be charged unless they enable payments.
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Friday, 6 June 2025
What Cheese Taught Me About Myself
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