In case you were wondering what people eat as a midnight snack in France, now you know: cheese.* If real French people don’t eat this, I can only imagine it’s because the cigarettes have stunted their appetites so severely that dairy doesn’t even appeal to them anymore.
I’d like to tell you precisely what kind of cheese this is, but I can’t; I got it to this hacked-up-with-a-spoon, Nutella-on-the-wrapping-paper stage you see in the picture (over two nights) and then immediately took it to the trash can so I wouldn’t eat it all and I forgot to get the deets. Because that’s how “French” I am now – I just eat cheese with reckless abandon, in complete ignorance of what it is and where it’s from. If I’d bought this at a fine fromagerie (and I did not, unless you consider the Franprix a fine fromagerie) I would’ve asked a few questions. Instead, I just gauged The Smell Index against several others and chose this one.
One last point of information: before it hit the poubelles, this cheese was sitting next to the only other two things in my refrigerator: a can of Leffe beer and Activia yogurt.
Please. Send. Greens.