From before her earliest memories she heard the creak of wooden aging boards, her mother’s singing in the cave, and tasted the rich full flavors of aged cheese. It was always her favorite place to be smelling the salty, musty aromas. The cheese cave. Place of delights. Where the excess fruit and veggies were stored. Silent salami and prosciutto were hanging, growing their white mold and drying to perfection. But her favorite was the hard rounds of cheese. Occasionally she couldn’t resist and would sing her teeth into firm outer rind. Rinds are really the best in her opinion. Happy moments were spent cleaning the cave and taking cheese to the kitchen. And taking cheese to the kitchen. Or helping take cheese to the kitchen.
Perhaps I made a mistake making so much cheese during Violet’s pregnancy…
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