The cheese ball cheese ball
did i just repeat myself?
Good morning, clowns!
I can’t believe it’s already December, can you? Anyway, cool small talk. You should see me at parties.
This week’s idea comes to you courtesy of a Twitter pal, @susiehancock, who sent along an interesting suggestion for the newsletter.
Susie suggested I do something with one of those giant containers of cheese balls I always see at the grocery store.
Everyone loves cheese balls. In fact, every time I see a container of them I briefly consider buying one, because they are a giant tub of crunchy, salty, joy. I generally do not have an excuse to buy them, because the idea of going through a whole big-ass tub of cheese balls is pretty daunting, even if they are basically 99.99% air.
At first, I was puzzled with what I could possibly do with a bucket of cheese balls.
But remember how I mentioned that it was December? December is a month where lots of people throw parties. And at parties, people eat snacks like cheese balls. But the cheese balls you often see at parties are a different kind. That kind is made of a smooth cheese spread rolled around in crushed nuts, that you usually eat with crackers.
Then I thought, “Dannis Ree, as the greatest food writer in all of history, you should be able to construct the greatest cheese ball on earth, using those little puffy cheese balls. You can call it ‘The cheese ball cheese ball.’ Then everyone will stand up and give you a standing ovation.”
Actually, everyone, clap for Susie instead. She’s a designer and illustrator from Baltimore, and without this idea, I’d be banging my head on a wall in the apartment this week.
For the core of the cheese ball, I decided to get as many shelf-stable cheese products as I could, just because I think processed cheese spreads are funny.
I mean, they’re always supremely dosed with God-knows-what. You know none of it is likely good for you, but you can never stop eating them. I ended up with Cheez Whiz, Easy Cheese, and Velveeta, which I consider the Holy Trinity of cheese spreads.
I unwrapped the two pound block of Velveeta and marveled at the fact that it comes in enormous bricks.
Then I cut off a square and took a big bite.
I do not know what motivated me to do this. Probably attention. Room temperature Velveeta is very sharp, salty, and mushy. Then I slapped it all over my bare ass.
I took a heaping mound of Cheez Whiz and then threw the bowl into the microwave, which still smells like smoke from last week.
Don’t worry, I watched it very carefully through the microwave window and stirred it when it bubbled. No Hot Pocket crisping sleeves were involved. This time.
Then I sprayed a very large squiggle of Easy Cheese into the melted cheese goo, to finalize my triple-cheese cheese ball cheese ball core.
Look at that bright color. How have we been conditioned to eat stuff that looks like this? Humanity is amazing.
After mixing all three processed cheese products together, the final product looked like Velveeta. And Cheez Whiz. And Easy Cheese.
I don’t know what I was hoping for. Maybe an explosion.
In order to create a perfect cheese ball, I decided to use my whiskey ice sphere mold to chill the cheese in.
These things work remarkably well to create nice globes of ice, which fit perfectly in a rocks glass, and coincidentally, my ass.
There’s a little hole in the top of the silicone mold for water overflow, in case you’ve put too much water in it.
This thing wasn’t designed for liquid cheese, however, and it occurred to me that I may have overfilled the mold when it started pushing out the top.
Okay, maybe there was way too much cheese in the mold.
I stood in front of the ice ball mold for a full century, unmoving, just staring at it, as time passed by. Generations came and went. Civilizations grew and fell. Yet there I was, staring at squiggles of cheese product pushed out through the top of an ice ball mold, as time repeated itself in one giant circle, coming back around to what you mere mortals think of as the present.
I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen everything. My hair is now completely gray and you may now address me as Gandalf the Dumbass.
I let my new son rest in the freezer to set up.
In the meantime. I put a bunch of cheese balls into a Ziploc bag and crushed them into dust, for the exterior of the cheese ball cheese ball.
After a few hours, I pulled the mold out of the freezer and gently started pulling it apart, ready to greet my new perfectly round cheese child.
Then I accidentally tore it in half. I’m a terrible father.
After prying the top of the cheese ball out of the mold, I put it back on top of the other part, and decided it looked as good as new.
I rolled it in the cheese ball dust lovingly and said, “Don’t worry. I love you just the way you are.”
The end result was weirdly adorable.
I mean, look at that thing! It’s actually kind of cute, isn’t it? It’s like if you had Clifford the Big Red Dog standing next to a bunch of normal-sized dogs or something. Clifford’s real…right?
I taste-tested the cheese ball cheese ball on an “Extra Cheesy” Cheez-It cracker, along with another cheese ball on top.
Then I popped the little treat in my mouth and was greeted with an obscene amount of cheese flavor. Like, a, holy fucking shit amount of cheese flavor. And not like…real cheese flavor, but like, Velveeta-Cheez-Whiz-Easy-Cheese concentrate, which was sort of like an uppercut to the genitals of my taste buds. I shouted at Davida to come over and try some, made her a little tower, and watched her eat it. Her eyes got all round, and she turned to look at me.
“This is delicious!” she shouted. Davida made herself a second helping and said, “Can we eat this for dinner? You should make this for other people. This is so good!”
Yeah, I don’t get it either. But she wasn’t wrong, it was awesome.
Don’t forget to address me as Gandalf the Dumbass from now on, please.
I’ve counted 44 instances of the word “cheese” above. Don’t forget to thank Susie for the great idea, everyone! If you enjoyed this week’s version of Food is Stupid, please make sure you share it on social media, as it helps the newsletter grow, and keeps me hurtling towards oblivion:
And get yourself a paid subscription, because you’ll get extra exclusive editions of Food is Stupid. For paid subscribers, later this week I’ll be using a frozen cheese ball in a cocktail of sorts. You know you want to see that, plus, by subscribing, you’ll also get access to all the old previous exclusive content at foodisstupid.substack.com, which is probably the best holiday gift you can give yourself.
As always, I love all of you cheeseballs. See some of you in your inboxes later this week, okay?
Oh, and yes, you can give people a subscription to the newsletter as a gift, if you’re running out of Christmas ideas. Hint, hint.
Okay, bye for real this time. Love you.
You have back into, as first, a fine viscous cheese product snack. Susie deserves merit, and statins, for her suggestion. Imagine a vegan version of your cheesy balls.
that image of you spraying the easy cheese into the bowl of premelted cheese is nauseating. good job on this one