Adventures in Wisconsin

I just returned from a home-scouting visit to the great land of cheese, otherwise known as Wisconsin. I ate more cheese in three days than I have in a year. I had curds of all kinds, five-year aged cheddar, smoked cheddar, a cheese-filled pepper, string cheese...it was a cornucopia of queso. I loved every minute of it (although my stomach cried "stop, please, I can't take anymore!"). The great people of Wisconsin show their love for the stuff in their thick bellies, cheese wedge hats and disdain for those damn "happy cows" we Californians claim ownership of.

I had an especially interesting encounter with a Wisconsinite who scared me a bit with his strong convictions against cheese produced outside of his home state. I was innocently wandering a grocery store's cheese isle (it was massive!) perusing their selection when the following scene played out:*

      
                                                                       PAM 
          Look over here, honey.
      
          Pam guides Jennifer to a case of shredded mozzarella.
     

JENNIFER         

       
           I don't see Tillamook cheese; it's one of my favorites. it's made in Oregon,"

          Jennifer delivers line thoughtfully thoughtfully while reaching for a garlic and dill flavored bag   of curds. 

                                                                        PAM

            Jim will love those!         
       

JENNIFER          

            I don't see any California cheese

           Jennifer innocently shrugs her shoulders.

      
           Que banjo music.

       
           With an angered look, a red-faced, round, overall-clad Wisconsinite turns his head around to see who just spoke

                                                             RED-FACED MAN
          
            (Sneering) Why on God's green earth would anyone want to eat cheese made in California?

JENNIFER           

            Well, I like Califor -

       
            Red-Faced Man's eyes narrow, and he grips the handle of his sausage, brat, whole milk,      white sandwich bread, cheese log-filled cart as if restraining himself. Pam grabs Jennifer's arm to stop her and looks her sternly in the eye, shaking her head.

            Red-Faced Man slowly wheels his cart away, and mutters incoherently under his breath.
            

RED-FACED MAN             

            Damned west coast fruit!


                                                                         END

*Events have been fictionalized for dramatic effect.