Weekly Challenge #474 – Cheese

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Say Cheese
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Smile!” Click. “Say cheese!” Click. And two more for good measure. “That’s great, Tommy. Now run along and send in the next person waiting.” Alone for a moment, Scott let his artificial smile fade. When he decided to become a photographer, no one warned him about school pictures. Kids making crazy faces, kids wearing crazy outfits, and kids giving him grief the entire day, and it was off to the next school in the morning. Then the parents, once they saw their little darlings, would call and complain. Lady, he wanted to tell them, if you want better results, raise a better brand of monster next time.

The door opened. “You’re Flora?” Scott plastered the phony smile back on his face. “Smile for the camera, Flora. Say cheese.”

The Brie and Wine Circuit
by Jeffrey Fischer

Brad clutched his glass of wine like a talisman and nibbled a piece of brie. A large woman wearing a ghastly hat walked to him, patted his arm, and told him how much she liked his novel. He swallowed the cheese hastily and thanked her. Rather than moving on, the lady launched into a lengthy tale about her problems receiving books from Amazon. Where was his publisher’s rep to get him out of this?

Brad loved to write, but he was horrified at the publicity part of the job. If he didn’t need to eat, he wouldn’t be out here on the brie and wine circuit, sipping fortified grape juice and pretending to like his readers, who pretended to have actually bought his book. It was times like these that Brad envied Thomas Pynchon.


#1 – Say Cheese

Say ‘cheese’!

That’s the phrase which has resulted in so many ruined photographs of my childhood – there I am, gormless, pained look upon my scrunched up, toothy face – awful pictures, best consigned to the bin. Which is precisely where most of them ended up.

Only in later years, when I took up photography as a hobby, did I find out that ‘cheese’ is the worst possible word for decent facial expressions. Far better off saying ‘money’, ‘mummy’, or my favourite: the one I employ whenever subjected to yet another entreaty to say ‘cheese’ by another hapless photographer…


#2 – Cheese Sandwich

Every day for the last forty years, my wife has made me cheese sandwiches for lunch. She must have given me a couple of tons of cheese over the years, made from who knows how many gallons of milk, donated by hundreds of cows.

I’ve been through the lot… Cheddar, brie, gorgonzola, edam; accompanied by all manner of salads, sauces and condiments.

Forty years of cheese that must be some sort of record, surely?

And every day for the last forty years, I’ve thrown those damn sandwiches in the bin and gone to Subway instead.

Cheese… Can’t stand the stuff!

#3 – Fondon’t

Back in the seventies, I was invited to one of those parties that were all the rage.

Having not been to a fondue party before, I wanted to make a good impression, so

on the day in question, I turned up: Moustache trimmed, trendy sports coat – (the one with leather elbow patches) – bottle of liebfraumilch in hand, and slightly sweating lump of cheese, which I handed with a flourish to my hosts.

It was only once gathered around the table, when the guests started throwing their car keys into the fondue pot, I realised my rather big mistake!


2015-05-20 Cheese
A little known fact is that Oklahoma is today the cheese capital of the world. The reason for this? In the 1940s a cheese blight, better known as the “blitzkrieg”, destroyed the capability of Europe to produce any cheese, except cottage cheese. This was and still is a closely guarded secret thus enabling the Europeans to keep their self-esteem. Needless to say we here in Okie-land keep the secret and export all our production to other countries, such as Switzerland, which has the only existent working cheese drill, and they, in turn, repackage our product for export as their own.



By Christopher Munroe

Holy hell, I want nachos right now.

I mean, I always want nachos a little, nachos are basically amazing, they’re nature’s perfect food.

Carbs covered in cheese with hot sauce on top, you tell me something in this world that’s better than that, and I’ll call you a liar right to your face.

But I can’t have nachos, not yet, I’m in the middle of writing a story, I can not take a break until I’m done.

Big push to the end, Munsi, big push to the end. Get to one hundred words and finish.

THEN there will be nachos…


The large group gathered at an Italian restaurant for wine and cheese.
She hated it. She hated the fake smiles, the fake white teeth, the fake everything.
For two excruciating hours, and out of desperation, she chopped cheese in small cubes with a huge knife while everyone pretended to be everyone else’s friend.
At the end of the get-together, the proverbial group photo was taken.
Several years later, she sat down at the same restaurant. She looked at the photo while holding that same huge knife, the one she would get rid of right after finishing the wine… by herself.


I like cheese, in fact I like cheese a lot – and I hate to share mine.

However, much as I like cheese, I dislike mice running around my home just as much, and – as everybody knows – if you’re going to trap mice, you’ve got to use cheese.

I bait the trap, place it strategically where I know the mice will find it, then sit out of sight, waiting for the tell tale snap and squish that signals another rodent has met its maker.

Then I settle down to enjoy my little snack – cheesy, crunchy mouse… so delicious, whilst still warm!


Deciding to relax Jack grabs a frying pan, He finds some bread and some habanero cheddar. After turning burner on to warm the pan, Jack adds some olive oil then decides to listen to a writing podcast as he cooks.He hears one of the Dead Robots say something about sometimes a story is not always about saving the world but sometimes only about making a really good sandwich then Jack hears shuffling. Jack grabs a spatula and a pot holder, puts his sandwich on a plate, then hits the zombie over the head with the hot cast iron pan.


Grandma and Me

When my mother delivered a new baby I got to go to grandma’s to stay. It was there I learned the secret wisdom of the grill cheese sandwiches. While American cheese is formulated to melt between a hamburger bun and said meat, it was not the proper selection for the classic grill cheese. It’s got to me Cheddar, and not just any cheddar. There’s this farm outside of Rhinelander that has been making cheddar since the civil war. To truly create the prefect grilled sandwich it must rest in a bed of browning butter. If you’re counting calories, better walk away.

Aged for Ten Years

Each year in July we take a monster road trip. A 1000 miler to Canada. Much of it along the edge of the Pacific Ocean. Along that road sits the insanely green Tillamook Valley. The cheese factory, the Tillamook County Creamery Association, is part Rube Goldberg, part Dr. Seuss. Through glass walls you can watch a maze of conveyor belts reduce 20 pound blocks of cheese to store ready products. They have got a tasting room to die for. Dozens of Dishes full of every type of cheese. Fun stuff too, like cheese curd, a bit like cheese chewing gum.

Comfort Food

I love cheese. Gorgonzola to Edam. When I was a kid I ate the cheap stuff, but as an adult I can indulge in the pricier stuff. Someone said why eat to live when you can live to eat. Of late I’ve discovered this outstanding near Cheddar out of Ireland called Dubliner. It was introduced to the United States in 1999. But it took a bit to break into the California market. It’s sweet, but at the same time a sharp edge that doesn’t lose its flavor in the deepest hero sandwich. On a Ciabatta, with Brandywine, Guacamole, Chipotle. Yumm


Memorial Day Rant

I hate the company picnic. Why is it always hot dogs and burgers?

Here’s the typical burger: An unseasoned patty grilled to grey, on a bleached white flour bun. And cheesburgers? They’re topped with slices of single-serve white or orange plastic. I love me a cheeseburger, but WTF. This cheese “product” melts itself to the humble meat patty, but has no taste and adds nothing to the visual appeal.

I know the company is economizing, but really, once a year, can I get a decent meal?

This year, let’s skip the burgers, and nosh instead on Vermont Cheddar and grapes.


The Dairy Board would have us believe that anything is better if we spread a little aged spoiled milk on it.
In a lot of cases that’s true. My wife likes to eat tart apples with a slice of cheddar. It’s great with a lot of meats, elevating it from an average meal to truly memorable.
I don’t know of a cheese that goes well with Captain Crunch, frosted flakes or Cocoa Puffs.
And how about Jury Duty? Slathering it with Brie or sprinkling on some grated Romano won’t make that any better. On second thought, it’s worth a try.


Thank you for your invitation to dinner. Please remember that I cannot eat cheese. If there’s only a little bit of cheese in something, it’s cheese. Any fermented milk product is, for this purpose, cheese. Panna cotta, sour cream, yoghurt: they all count as cheese. If a savoury dish has the word “gratin” in the name, yes, I know that doesn’t mean “cheese” by the dictionary, but ten to one cheese will be present. If you’re thinking about any other edge cases, they’re cheese as well.

Call it a fence around the law if you like, I call it cheese.


if a cheeseburger is a burger with cheese on it, is a hamburger a burger with ham on it?
At Fred’s Ham Shack, it most certainly is.
Every burger gets a slice of ham on it.
If you ask for cheese, it becomes a hamburger with cheese.
And if you ask not to have ham on your burger, Fred attacks you with a knife.
Why on earth would you come to Fred’s and not want ham on your burger?
It’s what he’s famous for, after all.
He spends so much time seasoning and smoking the ham.
And sharpening his knife.

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