I knew the cheese store I walked into with my friend Jan was going to be upscale because its name contained the word "Farm." Farms used to be venues you didn't want to focus on when buying anything dairy because they conjured up thoughts of muddy stuff, people waking up early, flies being swatted with tails and the inside of a cow touching the milk you were about to drink. But now that people are demanding whole, locally grown food, farmers are revered and farms are highly regarded, even though we all know that they're still pretty smelly.

Anyway, the shop had a giant collection of cheeses that were displayed on tiers in a large glass case. And on top of each cheese was a small description written in tiny chalk letters on tiny blackboards -- like a classroom for enormously fortunate mice. As I was peering into the case, an intense woman in a chef's jacket approached me and said, "I see you're trying to select something. What are you thinking of, in terms of a flavor profile?"

Oh no! A flavor profile was going to require at least three good cheese words! I could have been prepping for this, but I had unwisely spent my time imagining that I was a small, cute, lucky elementary school mouse. "Rectangle" was the first thing that popped in my head. Then, just as Jan walked over, I started saying out loud some wine words that I had memorized. "I'm thinking of something big, full-bodied, complex, earthy..." 

"And Velveety," Jan said, in her Tennessee accent. 

"Did you say velvety?" the store lady asked. 

"Yes," and make it a Kraft cheese. 

"And by craft, do you mean artisanal?" 

"Yes."