Consider two wedges of cheese currently in my refrigerator. They came from the same dairy farm with milk from the same small herd of Jersey cows. The cheesemaker added the same amount salt and rennet to the milk. Yet the cheeses could hardly be more different. One is moist, soft, the color of fresh cream and has a mild, utterly inoffensive flavor. It begs to be melted into any number of dishes. The other cheese is hard, crumbly, brownish and pungent. It’s best enjoyed on its own and washed down with bourbon, dark beer or bold, red wine. What accounts for these striking contrasts? A single ingredient: time. The more aggressive cheese was cave-aged for four months longer than its counterpart.
only part that mattered anyway
> Consider two wedges of cheese currently in my refrigerator. They came from the same dairy farm with milk from the same small herd of Jersey cows. The cheesemaker added the same amount salt and rennet to the milk. Yet the cheeses could hardly be more different. One is moist, soft, the color of fresh cream and has a mild, utterly inoffensive flavor. It begs to be melted into any number of dishes. The other cheese is hard, crumbly, brownish and pungent. It’s best enjoyed on its own and washed down with bourbon, dark beer or bold, red wine. What accounts for these striking contrasts? A single ingredient: time. The more aggressive cheese was cave-aged for four months longer than its counterpart.
only part that mattered anyway
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