Why your cheese board serves up a delicious slice of British history
A mournful sadness blights my existence: cheese makes me ill. Since a severe bout of listeria poisoning 15 years ago, I can't so much as taste a bit of Stilton on an oat cracker. My dodgy digestion even denies me that glory of pub dinners, a Cheddar ploughman's with lashings of pickle. In Britain, to be unable to eat cheese is, in many ways, a kind of exile. As a passionate book by cheesemonger Ned Palmer — the paperback edition of which has become a quirky hit in the build-up to Christmas — makes plain, ours is a nation built on cheese. We've been enjoying it since the Stone Age, for aro...
Source: dailymail.co.uk
