I, Goremet

—  You Berk

Where I cut the cheese I watched two episodes of Netflix's original 6 part series Chef's Table yesterday (Helly, this has your name on it).  The first episode is about Modena Italy restaurateur Massimo Bottura.  Modena for me means Balsamic Vinegar.  Some years ago—at least ten—I somehow became an aficionado of the stuff, even though I never used it.  After watching a documentary on Balsamic Vinegar Di Modena I purchased a bottle.  It cost a lot of money, so I bought some cheaper brands at the same time which is what I use when a recipe calls for the stuff.  It happens that Moderna also makes Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, which I am never without, and always use. Ten minutes into this show I yearned for Balsamic Vinegar and Cheese.  Yearned!  I paused the show; retrieved, then opened my bottle (luckily the cork was still moist).  I poured some into a shot glass and sipped some along with the cheese.  The first sip knocked my socks off! Really.  Now I wanted to test it against the cheap stuff I had been using. Horry clap!  The Monari Federzoin (serial number A422169)  was definitly sweeter, but not bad.  The Don Marcello 4 Star was even sweeter, but passable. But, Wait! —I am stunned to discover both are made in Modena! What does all this mean?  For one thing, it means people who smoked up to 4 packs of cigarettes a day for 40 years should not pay premium prices for any food.  I am just a Progresso Balsamic guy with pretensions. A berk.