I don't normally buy my parmesan cheese pre-grated. I usually buy it in big blocks, then saw off what I need with a hand grater. Yesterday I broke my pattern and bought a container of grated cheese that I used today as we ate spaghetti (Alane made the meatballs this week -- under protest).

Actually, I still have a block of the stuff in the refrigerator (parmigiano-reggiano), but I'm a little suspicious of it. I took it out last week to make the meatballs, then forgot to put it away until later in the day when it was time to eat. I took it over to the table to grate some onto my plate -- and discovered that it was sweating profusely. I could hardly grip the brick to hold it agains the grater -- I put it in its bag and tossed it back into the crisper.

Anyway, as we ate this evening the boys were curious about the little container I had out on the table; I told them it was full of stinky cheese. That made them even more interested. So I opened it up and let them smell it -- they were horrified.

It reminded me of my youth -- trips to Fortunato's on 13th Avenue, the pork store with the mega-stink from some of the world's most powerful cheeses, all hanging over the counter along with bulbous strands of sopressato and giant slabs of prosciutto (di Parma, of course).

I miss that place. What a giant stink. Yummy.