Never to Be Made Again

3 hours into the obligatory St. Patrick's Day pub crawl, Sheena lost her patience with the short people bumping into her pint glass and a thoughtful companion steered her to a known "happy place" in the form of The Fat Cat Wine Bar on Roncesvalles.

Another cozy tapas style place with focus on interesting wines, including some rare treasures from the Niagara region. Meal was lovely: breads with 3 dips (no, not my dining companions), mixed Charcuterie plate, seared duck breast... mixed it up with a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc to start, then switched to reds (Hillebrand Trius Red 2003 and an Argentinian Malbec).

The highlight of any visit to the Fat Cat has always been its dessert cheese plate. An ever-changing selection of mostly Quebec artisanal cheeses, provided by the whiz kids over at The Cheese Boutique. Last nights choice was the 5-cheese sampler. Lovely nibbles of unripened this, ash-aged that, on the yummiest fruit and nut crackers.

And then there was the 10 year old Cheddar from Quebec.

The menu described it as something rare and special. "Never to be made again!" Now, Sheena loves to have things that nobody else can have. Exclusive in its truest sense. A way to separate those in the know from those who are not.

It sat there on the plate not quite fitting in with the rest of the selections. A hard pale lump in the sea of white and blue fluffy cheese pillows.

It looked a little sweaty. Defensive even. Like a big bully who was mean just because nobody loved him. I took a bite. I felt like Ralph on the Simpsons. "It tastes like burning", I told my companion.

It actually hurt. Stung, prickled, numbed my tongue. Cheese is not supposed to be painful.

"Never to be made again". And now we know why.