Category Archives: About me

That’s So Cheddar Returns


Say Cheese

After a three-month hiatus, I’m pleased to announce That’s So Cheddar is back in business.

What was intended to be a short maternity leave quickly turned into months of cheese-writing inactivity.  In retrospect, I seriously underestimated how time-consuming a newborn is … and how little I was able to accomplish on two hours of sleep per night.

Since the little one pictured above is still quite a handful, for now, I’ll be posting only once a week.


Maternity Leave

Due to the arrival of our own little cheese on May 12, That’s So Cheddar will be taking a short maternity leave. I expect to be back posting regularly in mid- to late-June once I’ve figured out how to balance writing and sleep deprivation.

In the meantime, I’ll be eating massive amounts of previously-forbidden soft and raw cheese. Which, of course, I started doing in the hospital just hours after delivery. Thanks go to my sister, who ran to a market as soon as she heard that I was in labor:

First post-pregnancy cheese

Me as a fourth grader. I did not choose that dress myself.

A Brief History of My Obsession With Cheese

Picture this: it’s 1990. The year Nelson Mandela was released from prison and Margaret Thatcher resigned as prime minister. I was an undersized fourth grader in suburban New Jersey who was dying to see Ghost and who thought Murphy Brown was just the coolest. It was also the year I made my first confession. 

(You’re probably wondering what on earth this story has to do with cheese, which is a completely valid question. But don’t worry, I’m getting there.)

As a devout miniature Roman Catholic, I had rehearsed. I was prepared. I knew exactly what I would confess and had already calculated the odds on my likely penance. But things didn’t go as smoothly as I had planned. The priest hearing my confession was visiting from a different parish. He wasn’t the priest I knew and was expecting — and he had an accent. The conversation went something like this:

Me: “I was mean to my little sister and lied to my mother about it.”

Him: “Do you love cheeses?”

Me: “Yes, I love all kinds of cheese, especially brie.”

Him: Silence

Me: Silence

Him: “I said, ‘Do you love Jesus’?”

I stammered through the rest of it, never fully recovering from my major faux pas. I left the church in tears because I knew things had gone horribly awry. My parents, of course, thought it was hysterical. They already knew I was a weird kid; I didn’t like chocolate and I loved bloomy rinds.

In hindsight, the priest’s question about cheese seems like a pretty glaring non-sequitur. But at the time, I was thrilled to be able to talk about cheese, even volunteering my favorite.

Fast forward more than 20 years. With this blog, I’ve finally found a more appropriate forum than church to talk about cheese.

(Oh, and that lovely Christmas photo above — I thought you might need a visual image of me as a fourth grader. And just for the record: I did not choose that dress myself. That little nugget next to me is my sister, Alex. She’s now close to 6 feet tall while I only gained another three inches. I really got the short end of the stick in the gene pool, pun intended.)