The Gorgonzola Gamble
My last batch of cheese was an experiment in Blue. Just like an estimate is an informed guess, I think a good definition for experiment is “informed gamble.” Using some of my amateur cheese theory, creative substitution, and jury-rigged equipment, I took an informed gamble on cloning some store-bought Blue cheese. It’s possible that at this point I know just enough to be dangerous.
If I were in Vegas, I’d be out on the Strip, a bouncer having just tossed me, my half-finished cocktail, and a scattering of insufficient funds in the form of plastic chips out on the sidewalk.
The experiment did not work. The gamble did not pay off.
I diligently tended my four little wheels after they were made; flipping them and puncturing them as prescribed. (You can read about how I made the cheese here.) They slowly developed mold; first gray, then bluish. Great! … But the roulette wheel kept spinning… past greenish, to yellowish, and then pink.
It was pretty impressive, microbiologically speaking, but I would have been much happier if the spring-loaded arrow had just stopped on blue! During the process, the wheels also got very slimy and sticky on the outside. They didn’t weep much moisture, just got gooey. And they smelled, but not in a good blue cheesy way. It was a pungent, somehow sweet smelling odor. Rot maybe? Not right. Not at all.
I had intended to take these wheels to our annual Barrel Tasting weekend, but I just couldn’t do it. The words “toxic,” “bio-hazard” and “not fit for human consumption” came easily to mind and I certainly didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s trip to the hospital.
Know when to hold ‘em. Know when to fold ‘em. I didn’t even pause to cut the wheels open to see if the interior veining had happened (or to take pictures of the carnage). They just went straight into the compost bin. A total bust.