Failure or Success? A Perfect Melt, Transformation, Kayaking in Kona

May is American Cheese Month. No, I don’t mean American Cheese (Kraft Singlets, that hideous impostor masquerading as or feigning to be cheese.) Granted, those singlets were the” perfect melt,” producing an immediate bright orange gooey ooze that dripped dramatically off the burger, providing a mouth-watering visual. It melted as quickly as its single-serving polyethylene wrapper probably would have and didn’t taste much better. The singlets additionally produced an ample supply of landfill, also sadly “American.” But we didn’t think much about those things then. No, this month honors American cheese, or to be precise, and certainly more politically correct, cheeses originating and produced in the US.

So why a month? Probably a commercial initiative to remind and encourage people that the step-child of domestic cheeses actually has an honorable and noteworthy tradition, history and even some products. The fans of a Wisconsin football team call themselves “cheeseheads,” as Wisconsin is one of the most venerated US origins of cheese. But I also remember from years ago, long before I cared much, billboards with beautiful scenes of California landscapes, touting “Come for the Views, Stay for the Cheese!” I often feel that way at our home.

Europe: France, Switzerland, Denmark, Italy, Greece are all the icons of great cheese. Like neglect, “American” cheeses dim and fade from view and allegedly at least can’t compete. I will differ with that (much as I do about neglect!) as some of the creations coming out of Marin, in the Bay Area, are pretty darn good, and even some of mine are getting there, although I would not dream of selling it. So, a month suggesting that we buy some, try it, well, how could that be bad? And for the home cheesemakers like me, a reminder to – as Gavin, my beloved Australian cheesemaking teacher, always counsels, “Keep calm and make cheese!” I hardly need reminding.

And cheese, besides being a passion of mine and an inspiration in countless ways, provides an infinite supply of ready and exquisite metaphors. Like peeling the plastic singlet wrap and setting the stuff to melt, I miraculously get a quick spill of words and ideas. The ups and downs of cheese making, replete with dramatic disasters of failure and the occasional wildly delicious success, replicate the non-linear trauma/neglect healing process. It also reminds us that some things are, in fact, intended to stink, and if we learn or develop the taste, we may even come to like that.

Many know that during my first year or so of cheesemaking, my failure rate was a dismal 60%. Many feel that way about their first year, or even maybe ten, of trauma therapy. What would make one hang in there? People ask the same question when I tell them that my husband and I fired five couple’s therapists back in the early days (blessedly three decades ago now!) before we found one who could help us. We thought we were the couple from hell and probably were. Ultimately after about two years and thousands of dollars wasted, we found someone who could, in fact, help us and who even inspired me to become a couple’s therapist. So, what would make one stay the course, or as Gavin would say, “soldier on?” After all, my husband is the one who, after 30 pages, if the story hasn’t “begun,” gives up on a book. I still can’t do that, always having to keep going and finish the thing, endlessly hoping that “it might get better…” (He did, ultimately, teach me that it is OK to walk out of a movie, although admittedly, it took a while.) Trauma/neglect therapy is not linear, and that is for sure. However, I do believe it will get better. For those who stay with it, in my experience, it invariably does.

We thought we were the couple from hell and probably were. Ultimately after about two years and thousands of dollars wasted, we found someone who could, in fact, help us and who even inspired me to become a couple’s therapist.

Transformation

I have also learned, and admittedly a form of American cheese has been a great teacher, that like the couple from hell that we were, even the most godforsaken disaster can be salvaged and even transformed into something quite wonderful. A life or a relationship that looks like an abandoned corpse-strewn battlefield can be transformed into a paradisiacal tropical resort destination like Viet Nam has become. Younger people, I have discovered, are surprisingly free of haunting prejudices, ghosts and guilt about the war there, even unfamiliar with the history. It may be something rather like a clean slate, or one might hope. 

Gavin and a buddy of his, Larry from Deep South Texas, in a global-partnering attitude-changing effort, collaborated to teach the world “curd nerd” community to “make lemonade,” if you will. It was Larry’s initiative, wanting to improve the world’s view of both American Cheese and American cheese. And for me, it was a lesson or a reminder about new beginnings. Admittedly my husband, in all his politeness and undying patience, was getting tired of joining me in eating my mistakes. Thankfully, looking back, I (fortunately) did not have the 8-gallon pot then and was working more in four-gallon batches. But it was still a lot to ask, a lot of what I have come to call “Cottage Chevre.” Fancy recipes with European titles that somehow come out looking more like cottage cheese or edamame maybe.

Larry created a recipe for making American cheese, minus the polyvinyl packaging, of course, really a quite respectable recovery for cheeses with pure raw ingredients that somehow went awry in their developmental process. But here is the point: not beyond repair! Larry created a method for processing rocky, mushy, stinky or some other variation on “arrested development” into something wholesome and aesthetically pleasing. And additionally, that replicated the perhaps one and only “redeeming quality” of American cheese, that being the perfect melt! Even the original intended cheese may never have achieved that! A skeptical (and big-hearted!) purist, Gavin had the grace and the humility to not only undertake the experiment but to take it live on his channel with its 307K subscribers.

Younger people, I have discovered, are surprisingly free of haunting prejudices, ghosts and guilt about the war there, even unfamiliar with the history. It may be something rather like a clean slate, or one might hope.

Kayaking in Kona

I learned and repeatedly re-learn the lesson that there is no failure if we stay the course. The bodybuilders say, “Failure is success!” If you keep pumping until you can’t anymore, that is when you get stronger. (And a lot of them nourish themselves with whey protein!) Neglect, trauma, I’m pouring it all into one pot today. Some of the cheese recipes call for a 60, 70, or 80-minute stir. That means I am standing on my little, short-person’s stepping stool, stirring the 8-gallon vat, usually watching some webinar or maybe a Bobby McFerrin Circlesong all that time. I like to think of it as “kayaking in Kona,” but I am not always able to think so positively, much as I would like to. Sometimes it is a drag, a slog, an eternity.

For any neglect survivor waiting is on the order of fatal, and admittedly at times, I clock-watch, think about cheating, and want it to be over already. Here is the point, the seemingly hopeless case rarely is. I would like to say “never,” but I know never to say that!

May is the start of spring in many places. So for those who don’t care about cheese, it could be that. My husband just informed me while reading the news that May is Older Americans Month as well, so if you are domestic, you might prefer  that. They say, “age doesn’t matter unless you’re a cheese,” so that way, we combine the two.

My one major takeaway is for those who are fed up, bone tired of stirring, slogging, pumping, going to therapy, I do understand that. I have felt that way too a lot on this long road, and admittedly occasionally still do. Finding a way to make it bearable, to be able to stay the course, is a tall order. I know that too! But I’m glad I did. And I never would have dreamed I could make something pretty wonderful out of those accumulated bowls of slop that I would have liked to toss if I weren’t so averse to wasting food. I am grateful to Larry for having the gumption to push Gavin and to Gavin for using his platform to get the word out to all of us. I do hope in some small way to pass on a message not only of endurance, but of hope!   My friend Bruce, who I met on our first trip to Cuba, gave me the nickname “Cheese Wiz.” I like that! 

Todays song:

My book “Working with the Developmental Trauma of Childhood Neglect: Using Psychotherapy and Attachment Theory Techniques in Clinical Practice” was published on August 31st. It provides psychotherapists with a multidimensional view of childhood neglect and a practical roadmap for facilitating survivors’ healing.

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