Behold, the Power of Cheese

This past school year, as our daughter conducted her ongoing first-grade-inspired seminars, I was most distressed by her lecture on The Food Pyramid. I liked it better when we only had to keep track of The Four Basic Food Groups: Pasta, Cheese, Meat, and Potato Chips. These are the staples around which my Cuisine is based... well, I don't generally cook with potato chips, but I do have seven different kinds of cheese in my fridge right now.

Of course, my daughter isn't the only one who relishes illuminating my ignorance. Maybe 18 months ago, I bought something at Best Buy (I should never be allowed in Best Buy unsupervised. Even though I'm far from an impulse buyer, nearly every trip in there plants a seed for a future purchase). They had a deal: join Reward Zone and get a short-term subscription to a magazine. Since I already get most English-language publications, I decided I'd give Entertainment Weekly a try.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no stranger to the Free Introductory Offer. I figured I'd let it go a couple months, then cancel; unfortunately, I didn't fully account for my voracious thirst for printed material. At this point, in addition to the daily newspaper, I have no fewer than six weekly subscriptions... including, of course, EW. I say "weekly", but somehow several of them tend to print a lot of "double issues" and then take a week off.

EW provides coverage of all forms of entertainment media -- TV, movies, music, books, even video games -- and while I enjoy keeping up-to-date on all those topics, I sometimes feel their primary purpose is to reinforce something I've known for a lot of years: I ain't hip.

The articles and especially the reviews usually tout the band that's stretching its genre, the movie that is an intricately crafted work of art, the novel that is unflinching in its portrayal of blah blah blah... even the TV shows are most often the ones more noted for Critical Acclaim than for, you know, viewers.

It seems like human nature, or maybe just the nature of criticism (or a bid for job security), but it's frustrating that seemingly the only Worthwhile Art is obscure and challenging and difficult -- almost as if something that's actually enjoyable is somehow less worthy.

As for myself, I find that in almost all matters of taste, and not just the literal one, that I have a deep-seated appreciation for cheese.

I've read and enjoyed Shakespeare and I'm familiar with at least the most obvious literary classics, but I'd probably say my favorite author is Robert B. Parker. At least statistically: he's written 68 books and I know I've read well over 50 of them. Is he a master literary stylist, constantly breaking new ground? 68 books in 36 years -- you do the math.

Wikipedia helpfully links my favorite musical artists to the Star-based Music Critics, so I'm painfully aware that they range from tolerated (Billy Joel) to widely panned (Styx) to downright laughingstocks (Barry Manilow)... but if the iPod dials up "Until the Night", or "Come Sail Away", or "Can't Smile Without You" and no one's around, I'll be singing along at the top of my lungs (my daughter caught me singing AND doing air guitar to "Rockin' the Paradise" the other day, which was... awkward). Incidentally, "Can't Smile" is the single best karaoke song in recorded history -- sure, "everybody hates Barry", but I've never failed to get an ovation with that one.

While I don't see much more than a half-dozen movies a year, even in the DVD/PPV age, I like movies that make me laugh.. although I'm not opposed to a drama, or even a tearjerker if it doesn't totally insult my intelligence. I guess you'd say I'm more "Stripes", or "Rocky", or "The Incredibles" than "Leaving Las Vegas" or "Trainspotting". I'd rather watch "Sixteen Candles" once than a whole pile of auteurs producing finely-observed Works of Art about despair and depravity.

In television, I think the critics look for "raw" and "gritty", or maybe "quirky/offbeat". Now I believe I rank pretty high up on the Quirkymeter, but if you've read anything I've written about my favorite shows, you'll note they are for the most part pretty general-appeal. Exceptions that prove the rule: the critics and I agree wholeheartedly on Hill Street Blues and Sports Night.

I've gone to two art galleries dedicated to a single artist, both of those for Norman Rockwell -- also the only artist featured on the walls of my home. He ranks roughly as high on the coolness scale (not to be confused with the Quirkymeter) as myself, but -- not meaning to flatter myself -- I think of his art in the same kind of terms as my blog: take a moment that's familiar and see it in a slightly different way, or perhaps take another moment that's personal and try to find the universal in it.

And of course, coming full circle to the literal cheese theme, I've made no secret of my preference for simple foods cooked well: steak, BBQ ribs, fried chicken, lasagna, pizza. And although I'll always watch Top Chef and Next Food Network Star with interest, I'll never understand or appreciate the culinary approach that produces a slice of this and a dollop of that, and something smeared around the edge of the plate. Suffice it to say that if there's anything on the menu you can't pronounce or define (or tablecloths on the table, for that matter), you won't run into me there.

I suppose that in some respects this makes me appear Ignorant and Proud of It. Don't want none of that Art 'round here! But if there's a grand moral to the story, it might be that I don't want my dining, or any entertainment, to be like taking vitamins. I'd rather have a big ol' tasty hunk of cheese.