Ooey, gooey conundrum

Why would I be craving melted cheese?

The possibilities -- and permutations of possibilities -- are almost dizzying….

First of all, it could mean that I need more fat in my diet. The likelihood of that, however, is rather slim. How many middle-aged women need more fat in their diets? I always think of this lost-in-the-wilderness survival novel I read as a teenager that stressed the need for fat in one’s diet. Even if you ate a lot of food in the wilderness, which I presume would mean your fill of acorns, berries, and watercress, you would still starve to death if you did not consume any fat. My memory of this book tells me that survival had something to do with rabbits. I am not sure if rabbits would not provide enough fat – hence, if you snared beaucoup bunnies and roasted them on your fire, you would still starve to death because wild bunnies are too lean – OR if rabbits were the wilderness panacea to survival. Chow down on the acorns and (non-poisonous!) berries to your heart’s content, as long as you manage to throw in a bunny now and again to get the FDA prerequisite of fat. Whatever! It was the fat part that stuck in my mind. I was a rail thin teen who lived on caramel creams (fat free) and would never be able to catch a bunny even if I wanted to. I think it was around this time that I started trying to bulk up with ice cream and milkshakes, not to much avail as I was playing so many sports and trying to get in shape for West Point. Sigh! That this would be a problem today….

Secondly, it could mean I need more dairy or calcium or protein in my diet. Maybe I am on the cusp of osteoporosis! I do not drink milk – except on cereal, when I happen to eat cereal. I do not “hate” milk exactly, I just do not care to drink it. It may have something to do with my misunderstanding as a young child growing up in a 1960s suburb that milk was cow pee. We went on a family field trip to “Old MacDonald’s Farm” when I was about four or five, and they had a ceramic cow you could “milk.” I couldn’t get ANYTHING to come out of the cow, so my father, the former Nebraska farm boy, had to help me. When liquid finally came out of the ceramic cow’s rubber teet, it was water, not milk. Hence (although I am not exactly sure how the logic is working here), for years, I assumed milk was actually cow pee. I certainly had absolutely no concept of lactation or mammary glands. All the babies I ever saw drank milk (err, cow pee) out of bottles.

I live in fear of getting osteoporosis. My grandmother had it, and I know the tendency to get it is probably inherited. Plus, I don’t drink milk. I DO take Viactiv every morning – or whenever I remember to. There is something devil-may-care about eating milk chocolate chews first thing in the morning, and they go rather well with my first cup of coffee, I have to say. You are supposed to eat two Viactiv chews every day, but I NEVER remember to do that. You can’t take them at the same time, or I would do that in a heartbeat. But I am never in the mood to eat one at night or before bedtime. Thus, I guess I am only getting half my calcium supplement. I do eat quite a bit of cheese and yogurt and other dairy products, so I always just kind of hope I make up for it that way. It has only been recently, however, that I have had intense cravings for melted cheese.

Sally Field was just telling me last night how she takes Boniva once a month for her osteoporosis. You know, she was sitting in her kitchen sipping a cup of tea while I was finishing up the dinner dishes. A little woman-to-woman chat, a heart-to-heart. Never mind that it was a TV commercial. It was just like Sally Field and I were big buds swapping coffee cake recipes over a cup of International Brands Chai Latte, and she mentioned how much Boniva has changed her life. And maybe it would be right for me, too. But I should probably ask my doctor about it first. Oh, and if I wanted a free sample, I could call this toll free number and they would be more than happy to ship one out to me.

Thirdly, it could be my body’s ancient survival mechanism kicking in – the weather is getting colder, I need more body fat to survive the frigid months of winter. Hence, the biological cry imbedded in human brain cells from Neanderthal time to devour gobs of melted cheese -- pronto! There being no abundance of wild bunnies in the neighborhood and all. But then that kind of goes back to Reason #1.

Fourthly, melted cheese in its ooey, gooey rich and chewy flavorful goodness is just so WONDERFUL! It is comforting, good, warm, and yummy yum yum in my tummy tum tum! God, I may have to take a break and go get some now….

I digress.

Perhaps it is the old comfort food argument. I am under tons o’ stress, and my body is craving comfort foods to raise my endorphins, calm my nerves, and lower my blood pressure. There is too much adrenalin pumping through my body caused by daily life with two teenaged boys, and this is causing my cortisol levels to elevate and give me hypertension, stroke, diabetes, anger management problems, and all sorts of neuroses. Thus, if I clog my arteries with ooey gooey melted cheese, all that cortisol won’t be able to flow through my blood stream and I will just die of a heart attack instead. But I will be comforted before that happens.

Something like that.

Or… it could just be that I really LIKE melted cheese. Cheddar, white cheddar, mozzarella, brie, Monterey jack, Swiss, provolone… they are ALL good.

And even better melted.

I mean, it is not like I just melt a bowl full of cheese in the microwave and go to town. I make elaborate grilled cheese sandwiches or homemade pizza or add some shredded cheese to my piping hot soup. But I definitely am craving melted cheese. And it is not just the cheese that I want. The melted part is trés importante!

I don’t crave things very often. But when I do, it usually means something. As a teenager I craved raisins and liver with onions and spinach. It ended up that I was anemic, and my body was searching for iron. When I was pregnant, I craved pancakes, turkey sandwiches from Schlotzke’s, and Oreo Blizzards from Dairy Queen. I am not sure exactly what that meant, except that I was eating for two and I ended up producing two eight pound baby boys out of the deal. Not quite the same as craving chalk or clay admittedly, but to me all three of those food items were not things I normally ate and thus, were pretty much the equivalent of chalk or clay.

So, in the end, I am not sure why I crave melted cheese so much. I love the texture, I love the taste, I love the warmth. I enjoy the actual eating of it. Stretching the cheese out, the ooey gooeyness of it all, just drives me wild with gastronomic glee.

And on that note, I think there are several different cheeses hiding out in my fridge right now that are calling out -- no, crying out: “Melt me! Eat me!”

How can I not obey…?