Stinky Cheese, Man

We had the World's. Stinkiest. Cheese. Ever. at work last week. I put in an order for Red Hawk at DiBruno Bros. and was super happy when they called to say my cheese was ready.

When I picked it up I asked the cheese monger how to store the part we didn't eat. She said, "I think you should just eat it."

Craig LeBan, food critic at The Inquirer, described Red Hawk this way:

This sticky, orange-rinded cheese captures the divine stink, that primal pungency, at once fearsome and seductive, that gives way to a stunningly rich triple cream, the musk of mushrooms and autumn leaves, and a transcendent tang that it is nearly impossible to stop eating.

Week-old baby diapers would be another description. Wet socks left to ferment in old tennis shoes would be another. I preferred to think of it as yeast and beer. (As Jeff Goldblum said in A Big Chill, "Who can get through the day without one or two juicy rationalizations?")

We ate the Red Hawk at work. Jess wasn't crazy about it, but she soldiered on and had a piece. I ate a bunch. But there still was half a wedge left. It went in the corner trash bin. We burned a hundred candles in the office for the rest of the afternoon. But, man, that stinky cheese was good.