2008 Woodie Awards
Nothing is better than squeaky cheese curds
Amber Thompson
Issue date: 9/18/08 Section: Opinions
Seven years ago, our country was the target of a vicious terrorist attack. History books will recall it as an immense shock to the psyche and self-esteem of the American public.
Since Sept. 11, 2001 we have given up a lot of things that we have become accustomed to. Young children are growing up without basic necessities that we take for granted.
One of the most egregious injustices?
Kids these days don't even know that cheese curds are supposed to squeak.
I have lived here my entire life, and hate Wisconsin-ites with a passion, just like any good Minnesotan girl. While the ignorant Packer fans and their stupid foam cheese hats raise my blood pressure as much as anything on a stick that the state fair can dish up, 'Sconnies do get one thing right - cheese curds.
As embarrassing as it is to admit, I used to spend one fateful Saturday per year, in July or August, in Ellsworth, Wis.
Tubing down the Rush River was fun, but it was never the highlight. Neither was the roasted sweet corn or the legal fireworks.
No, the real magic of this event as a child was that this was the only time of the year that we could get real, honest-to-God cheese curds.
Wisconsin is the top cheese producing state in the country, and Grantsburg's Burnett County Dairy is a mere 73 miles from St. Cloud. Burnett County Dairy provides Cajun, dill, hot pepper, onion, ranch and salsa flavored curds in addition to plain white and yellow nuggets of joy.
Now, a cheese curd is the same cheese that goes onto your hamburger. The basic difference is that instead of being pressed into a wheel and aged, cheese curds are simply thrown into a bag and sold.
When you bite into a fresh cheese curd - and by fresh I mean produced in the last couple of hours - the salty goodness explodes in your mouth, accompanied by an audible squeak, like someone abusing an inflated latex balloon.
It reverberates through your teeth with a strange but distinct sensation, reminding you that you're alive and, for one short moment, you are a kid again. Fresh cheese curds are like less-obnoxious Pop Rocks for adults.
Not all cheese curds are created equal. Even the cheese curds that you end up shelling out nearly $10 for from the fancy cheese display at Coborn's are sub-par.
Why, you may ask?
Easy. They are too old to squeak. Sure, they taste fine - good, even - but there's no replacing the omnipresent sound that brings back the memories of a simpler time - when you were more scared of your mom when she caught you out after curfew than you are of terrorists sending you a nice friendly bucket of anthrax.
While we still live in a climate of fear to an extent, don't let the terrorists win. Drive on over that border, get yourself some squeaky cheese, and tell those terrorists that they may have taken your backbone, your paycheck, and your shoes at the airport, but by God, they won't touch your cheese!
Since Sept. 11, 2001 we have given up a lot of things that we have become accustomed to. Young children are growing up without basic necessities that we take for granted.
One of the most egregious injustices?
Kids these days don't even know that cheese curds are supposed to squeak.
I have lived here my entire life, and hate Wisconsin-ites with a passion, just like any good Minnesotan girl. While the ignorant Packer fans and their stupid foam cheese hats raise my blood pressure as much as anything on a stick that the state fair can dish up, 'Sconnies do get one thing right - cheese curds.
As embarrassing as it is to admit, I used to spend one fateful Saturday per year, in July or August, in Ellsworth, Wis.
Tubing down the Rush River was fun, but it was never the highlight. Neither was the roasted sweet corn or the legal fireworks.
No, the real magic of this event as a child was that this was the only time of the year that we could get real, honest-to-God cheese curds.
Wisconsin is the top cheese producing state in the country, and Grantsburg's Burnett County Dairy is a mere 73 miles from St. Cloud. Burnett County Dairy provides Cajun, dill, hot pepper, onion, ranch and salsa flavored curds in addition to plain white and yellow nuggets of joy.
Now, a cheese curd is the same cheese that goes onto your hamburger. The basic difference is that instead of being pressed into a wheel and aged, cheese curds are simply thrown into a bag and sold.
When you bite into a fresh cheese curd - and by fresh I mean produced in the last couple of hours - the salty goodness explodes in your mouth, accompanied by an audible squeak, like someone abusing an inflated latex balloon.
It reverberates through your teeth with a strange but distinct sensation, reminding you that you're alive and, for one short moment, you are a kid again. Fresh cheese curds are like less-obnoxious Pop Rocks for adults.
Not all cheese curds are created equal. Even the cheese curds that you end up shelling out nearly $10 for from the fancy cheese display at Coborn's are sub-par.
Why, you may ask?
Easy. They are too old to squeak. Sure, they taste fine - good, even - but there's no replacing the omnipresent sound that brings back the memories of a simpler time - when you were more scared of your mom when she caught you out after curfew than you are of terrorists sending you a nice friendly bucket of anthrax.
While we still live in a climate of fear to an extent, don't let the terrorists win. Drive on over that border, get yourself some squeaky cheese, and tell those terrorists that they may have taken your backbone, your paycheck, and your shoes at the airport, but by God, they won't touch your cheese!