How I Proved I Could Write an 800 Word Paper in Half an Hour

For as long as history has been documented, man has sought to categorize. Perhaps it is conquering in a sense, or man's desire for natural order that created this dynamic, but if discovery is man's most potent drug, then categorizing those discoveries is the high that drug produces. In no aspect is this clearer, then in the wide ranging and detailed minutia of cheese. There are literally hundreds of types of cheeses and they can all be categorized by their aging techniques, their flavor, their elasticity, and in countless other ways.

The most popular group of cheeses in the United States is the "hard" or "semi-hard" cheese family. Among these delicious cheeses are cheddar, Colby and Monterey Jack. These cheeses have a lower moisture count and are pressed into molds and pressurized for a length of time. But even this category can be further broken, pieced and dissected. It's not enough for the human race to call a cheese "hard" or "soft". This is not enough distinction, not enough control for our domineering minds to maintain. That is why we have "grated" cheeses, "semi-hard curd" cheese and the like. It's a wonder we ever left the shelter of our caves with so many rocks and pieces of dirt to name and put into plastic baggies with tags on them!

And this is even considering the large amount of spread able, "soft" cheeses. If there were any more diverse classification of a subset we'd have a hair split into micro fibers. Some are made by souring the milk, then straining the curd or passing it through a separator to remove much of the moisture, giving a white, crumbly, but soft spreadable product. The flavor is mildly acid. This type of cheese lends itself to rolling in or mixing with herbs, spices, fruits etc. and being sold tubs, small rounds or logs. So not only can we describe it's culture, milk source and souring technique, but in our grand vision of conquest we even categorize how we decide to shape the final product. Now we truly have become masters of minutia! Perhaps there is a party somewhere were a great and wise duke is impressing his neighbors by offering not just Pantysgawn goats cheese, but Pantysgawn goats cheese in the shape of a 1911 model Zeppelin! Have we gone insane?!?

“Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table, so many meals?” These words are as true today as they were when Shakespeare himself first penned them. Most likely he was speaking of the monastic category of cheeses, but with so many subcategorizations of his time, who’s to really say. Cheeses in this group are often linked historically in that they have monastic origins. Such cheeses as Port Salut, Saint Paulin, the various forms of Trappist cheese made throughout the world, Esrom and Havarti have similarities of taste, although varying degrees of strength of flavor and aroma. Several mountain cheeses, such as Beaumont and Reblochon, are also classified as monastery type cheeses. The majority of monastery cheeses are of the washed rind variety. “Washed rind”? Even monks are not above the need to overclassify! Perhaps the concept to call a cheese “good” or “too runny” is above these men of the cloth? Far be it for them to be called to a higher order of thinking. But is that then yet another classification that need not be made? Perhaps “holy” and “secular” are in themselves concepts not specific enough.

Is the classification of men and cheese indicative of a greater evil in this world? Is the control we attempt to exert over this planet and all its varied inhabitants a vain attempt to hide our fear of our own categorization? Do we fear a grand reckoning where we are given our own tag and label as “good” or “bad”? “Heaven bound” or “Hell bent”? Or maybe it’s something much simpler. Perhaps we designate, and create uniqueness out of the ambiguous in order to alleviate our own fears of being commonplace. By diversifying to such an alarming degree do we hope to stave off the bland “normalcy” that we fear will overtake us, homogenizing us into just another cog in an ever-turning machine who’s only production is the crowning the diminutive as royalty and exonerating the plain, thus making them extraordinary. But therein lies the rub. Like so much Camembert lying in the sun, we have doomed ourselves to lives of the mundane, by treating the unique and bland with equal favor, we have removed the same power we hoped to wield over this world.