The Vine: May 25, 2005
Dear Sars and Dare,
Sars is completely right — there’s nothing wrong with
eating the rind. Camembert and Brie are known as a
“soft-ripened” or “bloomy rind” cheeses. Over the
aging process (or affinage), the rind naturally
grows all velvety and white as the cheese ripens
inward. Pierre-Robert is yet another example of a
cheese that also has a soft bloom rind.
However, some
people — even fellow cheesemongers — absolutely
refuse to eat the rind. They think it’s gross or it
tastes funny or — and this happens to even me
sometimes — they get a slight allergic reaction. The
roof of your mouth or your tongue might feel itchy or
tingly. I even get a bit congested at times but that’s
all because you are eating the part of the cheese that
has had the most exposure to air and natural aging
agents and your system might not be used to it. I’ve
had cheeses that have made me break out in hives the
first time I ate them and when I went back for more, I
had already built up an immunity.
That said, there are cheese rinds you should NOT eat,
like some Cheddars. See, traditionally made Cheddars
are wrapped in cloth bandages to pull out the moisture
during the aging process and those bandages are, in
fact, inedible. Other cheese rinds might be covered in
wax as a way to preserve them, or just be way too hard
to bite through.
Keckler
Dear Keckler,
Thanks!
You may remember Keckler from her stint as the cooking expert; now sister is doing it for herself in the “The Chef Is In” column on The Grub Report. Head on over and ask her a question about cooking, or just stay tuned for my semi-hysterical “DAMN YOU, EGGPLANT PARMIGIANA!” screed, to be published as soon as Keck finds a polite way to tell me I’m a moron.
Hi Sars,
I don’t know if you can help, but I’ve got a bit of a situation on my hands, and I’m at the point where I need some fresh input.
The problem is with my friend Mark. I met and became friends with Mark about nine years ago, during my brief and ill-fated period of working in Edinburgh. Since then I’ve moved back South, and worked all over, while he’s stayed pretty much where he is.
When I knew Mark he’d been working in a lab job for about five years. He’d also broken up with his (only, to date) girlfriend about six months previously. He was a good guy and amusing company, quite good-looking, but one of those archetypal nice guys with whom girls decide to be “just friends.” His only faults were that he was a bit needy, and a little bit on the paranoid side; he tended to see intention where there was nothing more than coincidence or at worse, thoughtlessness.
Fast forward to now: I’ve kept in occasional touch since I left Edinburgh in 1999, and been up to visit a couple of times. Mark hasn’t moved on –- same job, same problems with romance (or rather the lack of it). He’s seemed quite depressed by that, but he put in for promotion and felt that he had a good chance of getting it.
The last few times I’ve spoken to him, however, I’ve been actually alarmed by what he’s been saying. Due to friends marrying or moving away, plus his own clinginess, he’s now down to just the one friend, which has left him very lonely. He didn’t get the promotion, either — the corporate culture is to promote bright young things, not steady workers.
Depression I could help with, but he’s now gotten to the point where he’s obsessing that Rachael, his last friend, might be seeing a chap at work that he strongly dislikes. The thing is that there’s no basis for it at all; it’s simply that this is the worst thing he can imagine happening. Furthermore, he was talking about following her to make sure this wasn’t happening. I think I’ve dissuaded him from that, at least.
Sars, I’m worried about him. I think he’s going from mildly paranoid to actually delusional, and I’m concerned that he’s going to have a breakdown soon, or worse. The thing is, I think, that he’s been so defeated…no luck with jobs, no luck with girls, and increasing isolation have taken their collective tolls.
I’ve tried to get him to come away for a change of scene, but he won’t budge, and I’m too broke to be able to manage a visit before spring next year. There’s no one I can ask to keep an eye on him either, as all mutual friends have either left or fallen out of touch. I even spoke with the Samaritans and they were sympathetic but said that while they thought that he needed help, it had to come from him.
Is there anything that you can think of that can be done?
Yours,
English Bloke
Dear Bloke,
Nothing that you haven’t already raised and dismissed as a possibility: all your other friends aren’t in any better a position to help than you are; you can’t really do much from a distance; you can’t get help to intercede until it reaches a crisis point. I can see how it would be difficult to accept, but really, you’ve done all you can short of moving back there to baby-sit him, which isn’t your responsibility.
You’ve been a good, attentive friend, and I think your only option is to keep doing that — keep in touch, keep your hand in with him — and to start suggesting as well that he look into some counseling. I don’t know how old he is, but if he’s becoming delusional, that could suggest adult-onset schizophrenia or related disease, which all the promotions and girlfriends in the world won’t fix — and even if he’s “just” depressed, he’s getting separated from reality and he clearly needs some professional help. Even if you have to sort of trick him into doing it by suggesting that it’ll help him in his career, it’s probably time to mention to him that you think he needs therapy.
And certainly if he says anything indicating that he’s about to harm himself or anyone else, you should get in touch with authorities up there as soon as possible — police, medics, whatever.
But you’re doing your best; nobody can ask for any more of you. It’s extremely frustrating, and scary, to watch someone decompensate like this and feel like you’re the only safety net, but you can only reasonably do so much for him. Just do what you’ve been doing.
Dear Sars,
I’ve been reading your column for quite a while now,
but I haven’t seen this exact problem yet. I’m 45
years old, and hubby is 35 — nice if you can get it,
right? I’ve spent a great deal of my adult life in
the collegiate world. I taught college and university
English for about 18 years before giving it up about five
years ago.
I had an opportunity at that time to
finish a doctorate in a slightly different field. (I
was hired without one early on and it didn’t affect my
employability.) A major university, 6000 miles away,
was giving me a free ride — tuition, board, an
assistantship — the works. After much, much labored
thinking, I decided to turn it down because I would be
out of the job market for at least four years while in
school. I wouldn’t be paying into pension or
retirement. There was no guarantee that I could get a
job in this new field after graduation, and I would be
in my mid-40s looking for a job with 25-year-olds. I
didn’t think the risks outweighed the benefits.
Additionally, I met an amazing man at the same time
(my current husband).
Now, I never would have made a
decision to give up this package for a man. Never.
But combined with my concerns about future earnings
and pension stuff, I was happy to stay and begin a
life with Hubby. Hubby owns his own business, and
after we were married (four years now), and after I
finally left education for a breather, Hubby asked me
to work for the business. Seems it was growing and he
really needed a competent, flexible, trustworthy
partner to move the company forward.
Here’s the problem…I’ve been working alongside Hubby
for two years now. I love this man to pieces. Never
met anyone as open, intelligent, loving, respectful as
this guy. We work well together at the business. We
have a nice home. I have long but extremely flexible
hours (allowing me to take art classes, yoga,
whatever). I get to wear jeans to work. BUT…I
don’t care about the business. It is an leisure-activity
business and working with the public, providing this
leisure/fun service, makes want to scream.
Additionally, I hate living in this part of the U.S.
I’m smiling on the outside, but I feel like I’m dying
on the inside. I miss the idea of the education I
gave up. I feel intellectually stymied. If I could
take Hubby and go somewhere else to work in my “new”
field, I’d probably be happy. But we own a business
and a house and life here.
So…I know that the answer is to find something that
will make me happy. How? I’ve tried classes and
classes and classes. I read, go to museums, plays,
et cetera. But I feel like there’s a hole in my life. I
know that there are plenty of women out there who
would love to have this reasonably easy life; that
isn’t lost on me. I know I need to stop grousing and
be grateful for what I have. How? How can I fill my
life with something that will stop my yearning for a
different life and give my days meaning? Any
suggestions?
Not Ungrateful, Really, Just Worried That This is All
There Is
Dear It Is If You Don’t Ask For More,
If your husband is so rad, why doesn’t he know that you hate every aspect of your life except…him? Because you know you need to talk to him, right? You know you need to find a way to make it clear, without insulting him and what he does/where he lives, that you can’t go on like this?
Because you do. Taking a pottery class doesn’t address the central issues here, namely that your job doesn’t challenge you, or even particularly suit you, and you don’t like where you live. Something has to change, starting with your reluctance to express dissatisfaction to your life partner.
And don’t make it about gratitude and put yourself down for being a whiner or whatever. I mean, I like my lifestyle fine right now — good-sized apartment, I can eat out a few times a week, I’m doing fine. But one of these days, I’d like to get a gig teaching English, live in a house, order the reserve champagne now and then. And I can live without that doing or having that stuff, but let’s distinguish between “being an ingrate” and “having dreams.”
Sit down with your husband and tell him you’re not happy. You’ll work it out or you won’t, but you need to talk to him, and you need to get out of your rut, and bird-watching tours aren’t going to do it.
“Hi Sars. I’m writing because of this big problem I have.”
“Hi, Sars. I’m writing because of this big problem I have.”
Which is correct?
Thanks,
Daisy
Dear Give Me Your Answer, Do,
The second one.
Dear Sarah,
I’ve been dating this guy for two years, and we’re in love. He’s
wonderful, kind, helpful to little old ladies, and extremely honest,
moral, and loyal (plus lots of other stuff, but you get it). He’s not
even crazy, making him the first sane person in my dating annals. We
have some problems over the fact that he is a traditional,
conservative Christian, and I’m a cheerful agnostic with a bit of a
freewheeling sense of right and wrong, but we’ve found common ground
on all of the important issues and enjoy bickering about the stuff we
still disagree on. We’re not talking about marriage yet or anything,
that’d still be a long way out, but we acknowledge that it’s a real
possibility and we’re constantly talking about our life together.
Now, I’m a feminist (so, naturally, is he), but I’ve always felt that,
well, there’s feminism, and then there’s the fiddly little stuff that
I COULD make a big deal about but it’s really not worth the hassle (I
have friends who take the “I can open my own goddamned door thank you
very much” approach, and while I can understand what they’re saying,
my feelings on the matter tend towards “relax, homes”). Because of his
conservative, traditional, religious upringing and beliefs, it is very
important to Boyfriend that whoever he marries takes his last name. My
hardline feminist friends instantly cry “paternalistic BULLSHIT” and
it kind of is, and I don’t really get it, but he’s not a paternalistic
bullshit person, he just has this…funny little…thing. Where it
matters to him. And that’s not a fiddly little feminist thing to a lot
of women, but my name isn’t particularly important to me. I’ve had it
legally changed, twice, just because, hey, that’s a nice name. So if
it really matters to him, sure, I have no theoretical problem with
changing it.
It’s just that his last name is Wiggles.
I…don’t want to be Mrs. Wiggles.
We had been dating for almost two months before he let me find out his
last name, during which time I began to wonder if he had a criminal
record or something, so he’s aware that he has a stupid last name, and
he’s secretly embarrassed about it. I don’t tease him about it. We all
have our scabs, I don’t pick at his. But…Wiggles? Seriously? I would
have to put that on my driver’s license? Introduce myself as “Mrs.
Wiggles”? It’s intensely awkward to say “well, I’d change my name,
except that yours is really stupid” and I don’t think it’d change his
ideological position on it one bit. I am standing on substantially
weaker ground, here — especially since he knows I don’t mind, you know,
intrinsically. Some of my friends advise (should the need for a
resolution ever come up — this is all speculation, really) that I just
say, “No, I’m not changing it, end of story” — but it’s a thing, it
really matters to him, and the fact that I don’t really get why
doesn’t change the fact that it really matters to him.
What, in your opinion, is the best way to think about all of this?
Potentially the future Mrs. Wiggles
Dear M-Wig,
There is no “best way,” is the best way.
I don’t plan to change my name, for a variety of reasons; it’s not so much the man’s-name thing (I already have a man’s name, my dad’s, so whatev) as it is that, at 32, I just can’t be shagged to slog through a bunch of paperwork and learn a new signature. My name is Bunting. It’s baseball-y; it’s got rhythm; it stays. Not negotiable.
But that’s me. Some people don’t care; some people do; everyone’s got different reasons, and most of them are valid. I bet that your fiance’s deal is not so much that he loves his last name itself, but that he wants the two of you, as a couple, to present a united name front to the world. Which is…cool. It denotes that you two are a team: “The Wiggleses.”
“But I don’t want to be ‘The Wiggleses,’ is my point. No Wiggling! Nein Wigglesehn!” Yeah, I know — but if your future husband just wants you both to have the same last name, why don’t you guys go ahead and have the same last name, just…not that one? Like, merge the two names? (Which, if he merged it with my last name? “Bungles.” Excellent. “Your Majesty, Mr. and Mrs. Bungles.” Hee. Or? “Wigging”!) Each of you gets a syllable or some letters, or maybe your last name is “Gray” and you can make it “Giggles” instead? Or “Wray”? Or maybe he just chops off his last name and uses his middle name, and you take that as your last name…or you page through the phone book and plunk your finger down, and whatever it lands on, you’re now the Lipschutzes?
You have options here; you just have to figure out what’s really important to him in the scenario, and then take it from there. Because if you really don’t like the name “Wiggles,” you don’t, and you don’t have to take it — but I don’t think it’s about that for him. I think it’s about becoming more of a family, and you can still do that if you both change your last names to “Kickass.”
Tags: boys (and girls) etiquette friendships grammar workplace
