Ode To Cheez

Have you guys devoted any serious time to the weird and wonderful world of faux cheese? No? Well you OUGHT. Not only is it a fascinating feat of scientific progress and textural aesthetics, it is scrumptious. It is one in a long list of highly specific things that make my loins quiver, and that is an accomplishment in and of itself.

Of course, there are all manner of fake cheeses on Mothership Earth, and these cheeses, or cheezes rather, are much like humans in that some are better than others. Some please and delight while others offend the senses and generally make me want to Ralph Nader.

Let's consider the mother of all cheezes: Cheez Whiz. Who invented this incredible culinary masterpiece? Why the Wizard of Cheez of course! That beneficent magician of processed, mucus-like goodness first bequeathed his discovery unto Kraft, which proceeded to unveil the thenceforth indispensable kitchen staple in the red-letter year of 1953.*

Historically speaking, Velveeta was Cheez Whiz's predecessor, created and brought to the cheez-loving public in the year 1927 -- the height of the Great Depression! Ah the socio-economic implications wrought by this food discovery. In two words: Who cares?

My thoroughly uninformed but nonetheless correct opinion is that despite a longer career and undisputed status as the superior accompaniment to chips and Rotel, the V-train is inferrior to Cheez Whiz in the category of "thick, viscous" liquid cheezes.

One must, I suppose, touch on the strange and culturally relevant innovation known as E-Z Cheez. Despite it's name, E-Z Cheez bears little or no relation to the departed West Coast rapper and former member of N.W.A Easy E. But it is doubtless a portrait and product of its time (the Eighties of course) : a fluffy, vapid cheese imposter barely contained in a "futuristic" spray can. I confess that I was caught on more than one occasion swirling the stuff directly onto my tongue the way Sheena E. might have foamed up her coiffure. But I was but a child. I lived and learned.

I will always have a special place in my heart for Merkts Cheddar-Port Wine Cheese Food, which I consider to be part of the old-guard. This is faux cheese for the upwardly mobile. This would not be out of place at a fancy cocktail party, served with Triscuit (or "thrice-baked") crackers. I especially enjoy the mottled alien color in which this Cadillac of cheezes arrives. The borderline offensive pink hue that is supposed to represent the "port" within the screaming orange "cheddar" is particularly enticing. My Grandma Patsy ave shalom used to serve Merkts at social gatherings. She was also a master of Tapioca pudding and Chicken Diane, but that is for another story. The point is, she was a classy lady and she gave Merkts the thumbs up. So who are YOU to judge? Nobody is who.

Nowadays I take my faux cheez where I can get it: Perhaps it comes in the form of a wimpy, milky sauce on my Annies Organic shells. Maybe I get it in powder form (much preferred these days) on my daily quota of Cheezy Poofs (brand name withheld). Occasionally I break down and order chili con queso at whatever sub-stellar Mexican chain restaurant I happen to be dining at, though I passed up the opportunity to do so yesterday during an impromptu trip to On the Border in beautiful Huntington, Long Island for reasons I'm still grappling with. I suspect it had to do with my attempt to be abstemious in light of the knowledge that I would later that evening be indulging in another of my great loves -- to be explored at a later date -- the humble potato.

Friends, the world of fake cheese is wide and I am but one "womynn" (as our militant feminist friends say) with little to no ambition when it comes to thinking deeply about something for longer than 40 minutes. So here is where I'll leave you:

A great philosopher onces said: The cheese stands alone.

Another great philosopher said: If you Cheez-It, they will come.

Think about it. I haven't.

*I have fabricated a portion of this statement.