I adore trying different types of cheese but I didn't always.
I grew up in a household of Kraft cheese. Singles peeled back from clinging plastic, whizzy stuff slapped onto bread, a block of orange coloured cheddar, and a dash of stringy mozzarella on pizza for good measure. Even when I was young, the orange jar and slices weren't considered real cheese. But I was used to the gooey salty texture.
My husband and I met in high school. He was the most exotic person I had ever met. How and why he came from Italy and landed in our town is another story. But his wild fashion sense, big grin, and goofy sense of humour endeared him to all the natives. I affectionately call him my "leetle immigrant".
We were sorting out our dating priorities one day when he asked me what type of cheese I liked. To which I replied, "I don't like cheese".
He patiently asked again and slightly rephrased the question, "What type of cheese don't you like."
"All types?" He looked very puzzled. This was a new concept for him. "What do you mean, all types?"
"All of them, you know, mozzarella and cheddar."
He burst out laughing.