Cheese: A Cruel Mistress

Taiwan: A country where Kraft pre-shredded cheddar costs $10 (U.S.).

Today I hung out at the cheese kiosk in the western specialty market downtown. I perused the other aisles too, but I kept looping back and hovering over the brie and chevre with lust in my heart and emptiness in my belly.

I try to keep my grocery-story lurking to a minimum, but I was waiting on James to finish another unsuccessful job interview. Another, "Oh so sorry, we looking for foreigner." When he arrived the interviewer made it known she felt he'd cheated her. James is so sneaky: He sounds American on the phone, and he has that German last name, Meiser, on his resume. And then he shows up at the school looking all Asian. The audacity.

Anyway, waiting for James was my excuse to stare at cheese. God, I didn't know I would miss it so. If I were to diagram my ideal food pyramid, the bottom two-thirds would be extra-sharp cheddar (and the top third would be coffee). Forget grains, I'm pretty sure cheese is the foundation of the average American diet. We love cheese. People here love red bean, stinky tofu and male heirs. Cheese, not so much. When I want it, I have to look for it, and it costs more. Thus, my cheese intake has been devastatingly reduced.

Two weeks ago my cravings were so great we went to Taipei on a mission to hunt down, Alley Cats - reputedly one of the best pizza joints in the city.

There are several Alley Cats around town, the one we went to really was in an alley. With just a few tiny tables and a very short bar, the place was like a to-go counter masquerading as a restaurant. We ordered a salad, a couple beers, and a pepperoni-veggie combo to split.

The beers came first and I was half done with mine when the pizza arrived. The cheese was gooey hot. I ate my half slowly, concentrating on each precious bite. A mouthful of melted cheese, the aroma of basil filling my head, and the subtle, pleasant effect of the first beer - it was an elevated experience. I can't remember when eating or drinking anything made me feel so good.

Why am I writing about it now? Because I still think about it. I've watched enough episodes of Intervention to know that the last high is always the best one, it's what you concentrate on until you get your fix again. I think I'm in control of my demons. My cravings aren't affecting my moods or my ability to work, yet.

Dinner and drinks at Alley Cats cost $26 U.S., not too bad by American standards. But that's pricey considering we eat for about $5 total at the little Chinese shops near home.

But I think we'll be back to Alley Cats sooner rather than later.