As part of our St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans, we went out shopping for snacks, and ended up buying just about anything that was green or green-related. That included this havarti cheese, which qualified because it had specks of dill in it. Oh, you want to see it in context? Here’s a partial:
So, in between the homemade yam fries and the chips-and-dip-and-food-colouring, we also sliced up this cheese. There was some debate about trying to colour the cheese with the food colouring, but we decided that it wouldn’t have worked very well. Maybe a cream cheese, but not a havarti.
Like most havartis, this specimen has a bit of an oily sheen at room temperature and it quite soft and spongy, making it a bit of a challenge to slice. Luckily, this titanium knife had an exceptionally sharp edge, and the poor havarti never stood a chance.
Amy, here resplendent in her commemorative Potato Famine T-shirt, takes a sample bite of the havarti dill on a rye Triscuit with caraway seeds.
Although our brains were addled by green beer and Irish whiskey, even stone-cold sober there wouldn’t have been much to write about this cheese. It’s got a very mild taste, and the addition of a tiny bit of dill doesn’t do much either to add or detract from the taste.
It was pleasant, sure, inoffensive. That’s havarti. Often, so is dill. Paired, they make for a very milquetoast cheese.
In fact, the most standout memory I have of the whole episode is one of the guests, Nicole, commenting that her new favourite cheese was edam. Sorry, havarti dill, but when you’re upstaged by a second-hand cheese comment, that’s really saying something.
Grant Hamilton
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.