It’s good to face your fears: you walk away stronger for it.
All my life I heard disparaging remarks about Limburger cheese, so when I was invited to join my co-workers to experience the infamous cheese in Monroe, Wisconsin, I viewed it as an opportunity to face a fear.
When our waiter approached with two plates of the lovely quarter-cut dark rye and Limburger sandwiches topped with a chocolate mint, I thought, “Well, at least I like rye bread and mints.”
Frankly, I was expecting MORE smell. Even when I cautiously took my slice and raised it to my mouth it didn’t smell much worse than a lot of blue cheeses I’ve eaten. I bit in. It had the texture of Brie and was a bit more pungent, but it certainly wasn’t the WORST thing I’ve eaten. Then again, I was raised in a Polish family and tripe, pigs’ tails in sauerkraut, and blood sausage were common fare on the dining room table.
One caveat: after eating my two quarters, I did notice my hands smelled like gym socks, so I quickly excused myself to the lavatory and scrubbed.
Limburger? Almost as good as duck blood soup.
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