Brote met Kaas

Dearest sister,

Our culinary experience in Europe can be summed up quite simply by three Dutch words: 'brote met kaas.' Translation: bread with cheese. In Germany, it came on pumpkin-seed buns slathered in butter then blanketed in thick wedges of soft cheese, followed by tomatoes and leafy lettuce. We found these sandwiches in train stations, bus stations, subway stations, neighbourhood bakeries, mall food-courts, and coffee shops.

In Holland, the quality of bread slipped marginally; the vegetables disappeared, and cheese was served with or without a generous portion of ham. Here, the gouda reigned supreme. A breakfast spread was not complete without a plate of sliced gouda, both plain and spiced, snuggled up against a selection of sliced meats. (Naturally, in Holland we were also treated to the likes of liverwurst, cheese pate, frites with mayo, olibollen, panekoek, croquettes, and raw herring.).

We crossed the border into France and were promptly handed a baguette lined with cheese and our choice of veggies. We each ate one, yes, a whole baguette, in a graffitied bunker in the rain, before resuming our bike journey to Paris. We quickly learned the meaning of the word 'fromagerie.' The prices were just as wonderful as the cheeses. In the south of France we ate fresh cheve, just delivered by the farmer to the bin. We tried stinky cheese, and grey cheese, but not bright orange cheese, which Caleb balked at. In Ireland there was cheddar and squash bread and scones, and those giant, weighty loaves they call soda bread.

Yesterday I popped into the grocery store for a few necessities. I stopped at the cheese fridge and nearly cried. Little scraps and squares marked eight dollars, or blocks of Kraft, dyed bright orange, for a more reasonable price.

Tomorrow I will make a pot of spreadable cheese. If I am successful, I will post images and a recipe. If my experiment goes awry, you will hear nothing more on the topic.

Your loving sister,
Rachel