In an attempt to be an outstanding vegetarian chef (for one of one’s dahling soirees, dahling), yesterday I walked into our local deli to source some “foncy cheese”. This conversation actually happened word for word.
Me: Hiya. Have you got any hard mozzarella?
Chap: No. (Pause). But I do have a young pecerino.
Chap: Would you like a taste?
Me: (Pause). Yes please. (Cheese handling). Lovely. Can I have 250g please?
Chap: Of course. They rub it with tomatoes to make it red (the outside is red like a fake edam), but I promise you, it does not taste like tomatoes. Originally they rubbed it with bull’s blood.
Me: Jeezo. The things they used to do.
Chap: (Puts cheese on counter). That’ll be £9.98 please.