“Good morning, I love you. You never forget, do you, Tarzan?”
Ah, now I understand. American cheese…. Ha ha ha ha ha. My long awaited book explaining British equivalents for American foodstuffs has arrived. I could have done with it during some of the pimiento / bell peppers / red peppers conundrums. But I now truly understand what is meant by American Cheese. To us Brits the generic term would be “processed cheese” or the more evocative and brand specific “Kraft Singles”. Well, I too had the wonderful experience of trying to chop some American cheese last night for Maureen O’Sullivan’s Toasted Cheese Sandwich. I really and truly cannot remember ever having sampled American Cheese before now. Possibly as a child but I don’t think so. There is something rather sensual about it though – peeling off the sticky seal of the cellophane and separating the rubbery square from plastic. MMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmm.

And the dish itself? Well, if I hadn’t also consumed the last of Richard Arlen’s chili beforehand I think I would have appreciated it more. But actually it was rather good and I can imagine rustling this up on a rainy Sunday afternoon and snuggling down with a Johnny Weissmuller type to watch “Tarzan and His Mate”.

On that subject I was amused by Charley’s reaction to my current dalliance with DSG. He said, “whatever gets you through the night, but don’t get too tangled up in them big braces.”

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