These Walls are Made of Cheese, Who Are We To Disa-Brie?
I will confess that once I became aware of the fact that such a thing as The Wall of Cheese in Sherwood Park’s Italian Centre existed, the Viking in me wouldn’t rest until I had climbed it. The journey to its base was fraught with Baseline Road traffic and forest fire smoke, but I managed to arrive safely. I pushed my way through the throngs waiting to ascend, and finally caught my first glimpse.
It didn’t disappoint. It rose before me, a veritable Matterhorn of gourmet aged dairy, and I may have gulped back a sob of wonder, as one would deem apropos when encountering such grandeur: monumental, statuesque cheeses I had never heard of before, in forms and shapes both traditional and unexpected; the very idea that milk left to its own devices can create such transformative magic.
Alas, the only way to conquer such a wall is one taste at a time. There was one cheese on that wall that called to me — I can’t explain why, but the semi-hard Aged Prima Donna insisted on being taken home. I strolled back to my car with my first conquest, a mere pebble chipped from the mountainside. Served with my mom’s neighbour’s homemade pepper jelly — such bliss.
I vowed to return, to attempt again to rise to the apex.