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A Morning at Melrose

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As much as I adore my internship, working full time has given me a new appreciation for weekends. When I’m going to school in Denver, weekends are almost more stressful than weekdays- every day is crammed full with catching up on homework, seeing friends, tidying up, and most importantly- knocking some episodes off the old Netflix queue. Now that I’m living somewhere where-let’s be honest-I’ve got exponentially less friends available to hang out with without extensive planning and no homework, I’ve got some time to do the things that I want to do! Yesterday (Saturday), was one of those days where I just woke up and wanted some cheese. But not the nameless QFC bought kind I already had in the fridge. I wanted some real artisan cheese like a fancy European lady might have in her fridge.

I’ve always been aware of the existence of Melrose Market in Seattle. I used to pass by it nearly every day last summer when I would make the hike up to Capitol Hill after work. For whatever inexplicable reason, I never thought to go in. In my adventurous (and cheese longing) state yesterday, I decided that there was going to be no better time to go spend my money on some fancy food.

Melrose Market is a charming little urban space filled with shops for all sorts of things from stationary, wines, and vinyl to fresh coffee, cured meats, and cheeses. Wandering inside the light flooded space, I immediately felt like I had discovered something truly special. It was relatively uncrowded, especially considering it was a Saturday in the tourist heavy time of the year, so there was a pleasantly calmed buzz about the place.

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After a brief wander around the space, I beelined straight for the cheese shop, The Calf & Kid. Slightly daunted by the abundance of delicious looking cheeses, I was honest with the cheese man and told her that I don’t know the first thing about cheeses except for that I like things like Gouda and I usually eat cheese with fruits or cured meats. Being the professional cheese man that he is, he helped me out, letting me have abundant samples of cheese.

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My favorite ended up being a salty goat cheese called “Nonna Capra” straight from a creamery in my very own Washington State. It reminded me of the gooey cheesiness that you might find in an expensive Macaroni and Cheese dish- I was sold. When he told he that a teeny slice (maybe about half the size of an iPhone) was about $5, I swallowed my stinginess and handed over my $5 bill.  I came here knowing that I was going to walk away with some good cheese and it wasn’t going to be cheap. I carried the cheese home safely tucked away in my bag and added it to some polenta for dinner that night. $5 well spent.

 

 

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