We are going for some classic cheeses today. These are the kind of cheeses you’d probably take to prom or your grandma’s house or a church potluck. At the church potluck you’d probably also eat these cheeses. THAT’S HOW CLASSIC THEY ARE.
So without further ado, here are your lactescent (yes that’s a word) choices:
Parmesan (the nice kind you get on your pasta at an Italian restaurant)
Mozzarella (fresh Mozzarella excluded, we’re talking your typical pizza cheese)
Kill: Mozzarella.Shredded mozzarella is like underwear: unnecessary. Usually no comprehensible flavor, and if there is, it tastes like the plastic bag that it’s coming from. Used mostly to cover up a disgusting tomato like substance and doughy cardboard some people call crust. Give me some fresh Bufala Mozzarella and then we’ll start talking”¦
Fuck: Provolone.Ok. So, to be perfectly honest, provolone actually isn’t that fuckable. But given the choices I will name the pros of a onenightprovolonestand.
1. It goes well with salami.
Marry: Parmesan.Parmesan is like the George Clooney of cheeses. Can play any role (pasta, pizza, doctor, ?????”¦). Loved by all (oh Reggi-ano). Always rock hard (GC must have a strict workout regimin). Gets better with age (seriously, how old is he?). Basically Parmesan can rock my world at any age, and people against gerontophilia can go f*** provolone.
Kill: Provolone. Look, I know loving cheese means that I will sometimes smell. But the smell of provolone sickens me. Furthermore, when has provolone ever enhanced the flavor of any meal? It has the word “lone’ in it for a reason. That’s how most of provolone’s fans eat this nasty cheese.
Fuck: Mozzarella. Room temperature? It is wholly unremarkable. But put in on a pizza, or a Panini, or a hot and tan body that’s been out in the sun? When mozzarella melts, so do I. But mozzarella is like your drunken hook-up with a
convincing trannie guy that you have nothing in common with sober. So hot one moment, so cold and disgusting and uninviting the next.
Marry: Parmesan.When I was a child, you came in a green tube. I realize that sounds weird”¦ perverts. But, oh! How I moved from the Kraft crack to the high-class parm coke. You’ve been with me for so long, and I want my deathbed to be made of soft, grated pillows of you.