Something big happened in 2010. It's the original kitchen table issue; the food that goes on that table. At homes and in restaurants everywhere, meals with mysterious origins are being replaced by food that has a direct to the dirt it came from pedigree. Economic handwringing, the prospect of the US population's girth expanding beyond our landmass, even give-it-a-name-so-we-can-call-it-a-fad punditry failed to put a dent in the steady drumbeat of demand for good food. Cheese, of course, is the essence of good food. No fuss, no frills, just food at its best.
Throughout today and tomorrow, culture writers, editors and assorted n'er-do-wells will be gathering in sunny Somerville, MA to brainstorm about ideas and directions for the magazine. And then, candlepin bowling.
But we're just a small crew, so we need all the help we can get. Post your ideas and suggestions to this thread, and I will pass them on to the editorial team. Let us know what you think!
I thought the saying goes- "Don't name what you are going to eat". (Most) farmers who raise pigs, cows, or chickens for food wouldn't name them Daffy, Henrietta, Bessie or any other proper name for the fact that they are a food source and not a pet: a situation in which emotional attachments are difficult (not to offend any vegetarians or pet cow owners). Cheese seems to break this rule. Some will argue that cheese is a living thing (or a slowly dying thing) and therefore one must care for it from inoculation through maturation- correct? With names like Pierre Robert, Dafne, Rupert, or Moses I wonder how far these emotional attachments go with the cheese and its 'maker'.