Cheesecake

Cheese + Cake how could that possibly be good? It's an unnatural, an unholy combination! There was NO WAY that the young Paul Leach could be forced to eat such an abomination. He withstood all entreaties to partake.

Then - one day, as grown man something happened (did it have to do with Allison?) and he a a peace of Cheesecake.
Oh the regret! The sorrow! All those wasted YEARS! A life hardly worth living, now made complete with the wonder of CHEESECAKE.

That was Paul's story he once relayed to me about cheese cake.

Living as a poor boy of limited culinary experience, I don't think I even had the opportunity until later in life to eat cheesecake. I was unimpressed.

It was only later I discovered I had chosen a side to which all of humanity falls - the side that like cheesecake and those that, just "have something wrong with them," as Su-Lin Fantella almost wrote.

No one gets to be over 40 without laving a cheesecake story of there own - here is mine.

I was newly Married and a student, as was my lovely young bride. We we summering with her parents, working to diminish some of our debts during the break. The location, Marin County - just out of San Francisco - some of the most expensive real-estate in the U.S. That obviously means some of the best bakeries in the nation.

Len, my brides father came from a humble laboring background and did just about all he could to forget that. One of those ways was to go and patronize the best bakeries, and bring home their wares.

In an act of generosity and bonding one night he came home with probably one of the best cheesecakes in the world, it was ostensibly a gift for me. What could I do? I graciously accepted. It was, cheesecake - undoubtably the best cheesecake I had ever had - but, still cheesecake.
I'd have rather had, I don't know - cherry pie... I said it was the best cheesecake I had ever had - and ended there. Len was happy, Laurie, my lovely young bride, relieved, and all was well.

But then, not more than a few days passed but Len brings home another cheesecake, for me. On the third occasion, I could see the lie stretching out before me, down the years... Len bringing cheesecake every time he visited, or perhaps cheesecake care packages when we lived too far for him to drive, Thanksgiving cheesecake, Christmas...

I knew what I had to do. The years of watching american sitcoms had taught me one thing, don't lie to make someone feel better, painful as that would be, the lie becomes more painful, and although hilarity will ensue, it's not funny if your the guy in the situation comedy.

So I told Len that I didn't like Cheesecake. He bought me no more cheesecake, but he never did get me any cherry pie.