You Know What We Need?

There is no shortage of different cheeses in any region of France. And thus, there is no shortage of evidence of non-pasteurized products going through your system. Some are vicious, some are sneaky, all are just plain silly.

Camembert is the same here than in North America, except it stinks a touch stronger. After several days, even in the fridge, it’s plenty more than a touch. If you can’t find any hallucinogenic drugs during your stay in France, content yourself with cheese-fuelled nightmares. They verge on bad trips: smoggy places, soup-like air, everyone’s face is hidden no matter how hard you pull at them to turn around, the themes are usually impossible tasks. I dreamt of running through the sludgy aisles of a grocery store looking for olive oil. But all they had: avocado oil. With the whole, unpeeled avocado, pit and all, in a tiny jar. Camembert makes this simple misadventure absolutely horrific.

You know when you run a fever and your dreams seem looped? Either you ate a bad piece of meat or a good piece of cheese. Like Roquefort, the blue to end them all. Not to mention it’ll cleanse you like Drano. If ever you find yourself in need of a good purge, don’t reach for the grapefruit. No, put down that tabasco & lemon juice cocktail. Just eat a slab of this blue cheese and you will see what your insides look like the next morning. And since the dreams are feverishly looped, you might get trapped in a childhood disaster, or the inside of a monster’s jaws. These dreams are relaxed in their quirkiness, not as terrifying as the Camembert or Reblochon. But disturbing enough to only eat Roquefort at lunch.

Tomme isn’t for digesting, it’s for defending the castle during a siege. You can either convince your enemy to eat some of its crust because the dysentery will strike fear into their hearts. Or if your tactics are less subtle: stick a wick in the side (delicately!), light it and heave it on the barbarians at the gate. The explosions are resounding and smell as severe as the carnage they’ll cause.

And Reblochon, the classic Savoie cheese. Here it is King. Local business are proud to declare they operate out of “Reblochonland.” Its wheels are often mistaken for car spares. And just eat a little of that pungent deliciousness before a nap… You will dream you are trapped in a maze, or you have lied too many time to too many people, or you get to the top of the mountain and night falls, bam. And you are alone. Or maybe not… What are those snuffling sounds?

The psychotropic times you will have! And if you don’t wish to be at the mercy of your digestive system, the best defence is abstinence.

…

But that is lame. More of everything, please!