Yes, you read that correctly. I truly love Limburger cheese. My husband wishes this were not the käse (inside joke). There is only one cheese factory left in the USA that makes Limburger in the traditional way. Few stores sell it.
My statement, in a prior essay, about memories? As a six-year-old, I remember sitting in my grandmother’s kitchen at the oak table which now sits in our dining room, eating Limburger cheese with my grandfather. He would spread it on heavy pumpernickel bread, salt it (he salted everything), and then put raw onions on top. That, he proclaimed, was a sandwich. He would offer me some (without the onions), delighted when I ate it and enjoyed it. So of course my fondness for this cheese is inseparable from my love for my grandfather.
For my last birthday, Steve and our good friend, Lisa, treated me to a wish-come-true. We drove to my hometown where there is a cheese store that still sells Limburger cheese. We brought some home, with a fervent promise to my husband to never eat it when he was in the room and to clean up all signs that it had been eaten. Ah, what we do for love!
2 thoughts on “Day #27: Limburger Cheese”
He must have been Scandinavian, right? My norske father ate it too, the smell lingers.
Did he pour his coffee into a saucer? Sip the coffee through a loaf sugar cube?
My father immigrated in 1902. Thanks for the memories.
Norma, my grandfather was Very German. I’m fascinated by memory and our ability to “smell” Limburger cheese through our memories. My grandfather was born in Wisconsin in 1898 to a father born in Germany and a mother whose father was born in Germany. They lived in communities that continued to speak, worship, and eat in their German traditions. People didn’t get around as much to be influenced by other cultures. I’m fascinated about your father’s coffee drinking method. Did pouring the coffee into a saucer cool it off? Hmmm.