Brie: I love you, Brie, you know I always have. And I was there with you right up until Sarah’s party when I had just one too many and farted in front of Derek. You knew I had a crush on him, c’mon.
Gouda: We were all rooting for you, Gouda. We really were. You seemed so mild. Perfect for not only crackers but also sandwiches. But then that one time when I was putting you on a Triscuit, Brandon came up to me and said “What’s Gouda?” It was such a bad joke, I knew I’d have to break up with him. And you. Who knew that one bad joke could ruin so much?
Goat: The Lena Dunham of cheeses. Listen, I used to love you. Unfortunately, you really missed the mark in my salad that one time. And then again, and again, and again. At first, I thought you were original, and then I was like — wait, why do you cast the same vinaigrette every time? I just wanted you to use your platform to take a stance for something positive, like a reasonable olive-oil-to-vinegar ratio. Goat cheese? More like “GET OUT AND VOTE cheese.”
Ricotta: I’m exhausted by the standard Ricotta trope: cheese looks creamy, cheese goes well on pasta and in omelettes, cheese is ubiquitously delicious. But then I learned something troubling — Ricotta, you are of the opinion that you’re entitled to turn green after 6 months in my fridge. I just didn’t realize you had such a controversial viewpoint, and I’m not sure I can stand by it. Also, cornrows? I know you got sprinkled on corn on the cob that one time, but you’re still white.
Havarti: It was a watershed moment for Danish cheeses when Havarti became available at Trader Joe’s. But you went too far. You asked to partake in the “sample station”, but you didn’t bring crackers. I’ve unfollowed you on all social media.
Blue: I’ve defended you when no one else did — you’re good not only as part of a dressing but also on burgers. But when you started acting like you understood the plights of all non-white cheeses — that was a lot for me. No, blue cheese, you can’t stand in for strawberry-flavored cream cheese. That’s disgusting, and I never want you near my cinnamon bagel again.
Mozzarella: Mozzarella shows signs of classic pizza privilege. You’re not the same as pizza, society just conditions us to believe you are. Eating unfried, unmelted mozzarella is about as delicious as wet cardboard! You do not deserve the pedestal you’re on — most pizza is made with up to 4 cheeses, but Mozzarella, you take all the credit.
Swiss: Some may think the Swiss are neutral, but I know you have an extremely troubling history. The day was June 7, 2015. I took my lactaid that morning as I always do when I intended to binge-watch myself eating cheese. But somehow, it wasn’t enough. I was gassy for the next 12 hours, and I only ate 14 slices of you. Neutral my ass. My ass sure didn’t feel neutral.
American: The best thing we can say about American is that it admitted its wrongdoing. But the lying — I wanted cheddar on my burger, I ALWAYS want cheddar on my burger, and sure, in grilled form, you look similar. At least there was an apology. And by apology I mean I shitted the whole thing out an hour later. I’m lactose intolerant.
Cream Cheese: I can recommend you, but I have to do so with a caveat. With an emphasis on representation, I chose to let you into my party spread. Although I’ve always loved you on bagels, you proved problematic on saltines. I think it’s time to have a nuanced conversation about your pros and cons. Pros — you’re good on bagels. Cons — unlike other cheeses, people judge me if I eat you straight. Also, you give me acid reflux. All cheeses give me acid reflux. I’m not supposed to eat dairy.
Provolone: Provolone, you seemed alright, but then I found out you played poorly with condiments of color. I tried provolone and sriracha on my sandwich, and that shit was so spicy I cried and drunk-dialed my ex. And don’t tell me it’s the sriracha’s fault — classic provolone move, blame it on the newbie. Also, I had gas all night. I am allergic to cheese.
Parmesan: Literally no one likes this cheese. How’d it make our list of favorites?