There are a few things I ask for from my cheese. One is, of course, to be delicious*. Others, in no particular order, include spreadability, failure to make the refrigerator smell like a lower class of toxic waste dump, and help with my taxes.** It hadn’t occurred to me to ask for a name that is fun to say, but that one’s going on the list now. ROOmano!
I assume this is some sort of relative of the more common Romano, as in parmesan, but I lost the Handy Information Sheet and I’m in kind of a hurry so I don’t have time to look it up. Supporting this theory is the fact that it tastes quite a bit like a good parm, smooth and salty and toothsome. And, as someone who has for most of her life eaten the parmesan rinds as a kind of special treat and didn’t realize this was weird until she did it in front of someone else, I think I know whereof I speak.
Speaking of non-sequiturs, I’m off to Boston (and nearby Worcester, which is much more annoying to spell, and possibly also to visit), so blogging is going to be kind of sparse for the next few days unless I can get blogger to cooperate with my iPad. On the other hand, there will probably be a fair amount of tweeting, mostly on the subject of how boring work events are, so stay tuned! Or not.
*That’s really the main thing.
**Hey, it never hurts to ask.