Velveeta cheese
Velveeta cheese. I don't know when the last time I had some was, before tonight. I don't plan on having any more any time soon.
First, I took it out of the package, and it was strange feeling. It felt like overly processed, individually wrapped sandwich slices....only in a big chunk. It felt and smelled slightly reminiscent of playdough.
Then, I started slicing it....Oooh, it sliced nicely; much easier than other cheeses. I didn't have to use much force.
Next came the cooking. Or, melting, I should say. (I don't know if there are any recipes that involve cooking Velveeta cheese.) It melted nicely, and smelled cheesy, and just had that yummy look of "hey, this is melting, and that means food is almost ready!"
Finally, it was time to eat. It tasted ok. I'm sure many people love it. I, however, took one bite and my stomach told me, "Um, hey, something's in here that isn't really food. Did you mean to eat that?" I give my stomach a few minutes to settle, while my brain tried to convince it that, yes, that was indeed food that I did intentionally eat. My stomach still doesn't buy it, but I ate the rest anyway.
Last came the dishes. I realized that the melted cheese had mysteriously returned to its original playdough-like solid form. Suddenly my stomach's previous disdain for it makes sense. I can only hope that my stomach's interior is warm enough to keep the cheese in the same state I ate it in, and not a solidified lump.
Gross
First, I took it out of the package, and it was strange feeling. It felt like overly processed, individually wrapped sandwich slices....only in a big chunk. It felt and smelled slightly reminiscent of playdough.
Then, I started slicing it....Oooh, it sliced nicely; much easier than other cheeses. I didn't have to use much force.
Next came the cooking. Or, melting, I should say. (I don't know if there are any recipes that involve cooking Velveeta cheese.) It melted nicely, and smelled cheesy, and just had that yummy look of "hey, this is melting, and that means food is almost ready!"
Finally, it was time to eat. It tasted ok. I'm sure many people love it. I, however, took one bite and my stomach told me, "Um, hey, something's in here that isn't really food. Did you mean to eat that?" I give my stomach a few minutes to settle, while my brain tried to convince it that, yes, that was indeed food that I did intentionally eat. My stomach still doesn't buy it, but I ate the rest anyway.
Last came the dishes. I realized that the melted cheese had mysteriously returned to its original playdough-like solid form. Suddenly my stomach's previous disdain for it makes sense. I can only hope that my stomach's interior is warm enough to keep the cheese in the same state I ate it in, and not a solidified lump.
Gross