Today out of curiosity I bought a block of Limburger cheese. I was shopping for the ingredients of Pasta Puttanesca with the requisite capers, anchovies, garlic cloves, linguine, etc. Also, as it’s that time of year, I bought some Chestnuts.
The Pasta Puttanesca is for tomorrow. A couple years ago, I was living in New York City and an opera singer friend of mine whipped up a batch of the “whore’s pasta” as it’s commonly known or “pasta of the peasant prostitute” as I’ve now decided to call it forevermore. Whatever. Back then I had never heard of capers and was intrigued. In short, I ate and loved it and obviously haven’t forgotten about the dish though I no longer have the slightest bit of memory as to how it tasted. Well, I’ve decided to find out… again.
As for the Limburger, it also has long intrigued me. When I saw it mixed in with the other cheese such as Asiago, Feta, Blue, Goat and Havarti, I knew it was the one I wanted to try tonight. The name sounded familiar. I remember seeing it from time to time in the grocery. Also, and this will prove significant, I felt a sense of unease as I surfed through my mind for any sort of clue as to what I should expect when I opened the foil wrapper and cut off a taste. There flashed a foggy warning inside my mind that left no specifics of what I ought to beware. I dismissed it.
[If only I had studied entomology, perhaps I would have thought differently. Limburger is one of the few known Mosquito attractants.]
Later, at home in the kitchen, I tossed the chestnuts in some vegetable oil and roasted them in an iron skillet over medium heat after cutting an ‘x’ in each of their shells to prevent explosions. As they roasted, I unwrapped the Limburger and took a generous up-close intimate sniff.
Horror of horrors! Instantaneous three dimnesional memories of past encounters with dirty feet, undeodorized underarms and unhygenic old women flashed throughout my nostrils. Nevertheless, still curious (morbidly?), I took a knife and cut a small piece of the cheese and placed the morsel in my mouth. Surely the odor is an illusion and this famous fromage sold in stores all over will reveal itself to be a secret delight to the tongue, I thought.
Not so! Now instead of the nostrils it was my tongue which experienced something I would honestly imagine as equivalent to eating tofu bathed in corpses (yes morbidly!). But don’t get me wrong – I like tofu. It’s the corpses part which had awoken taste buds I never knew I had. There was even a weird tingling sensation that I suppose might be due to the enzymes listed as an ingredient. I really don’t know.
[It turns out that a main ingredient in Limburger is a bacterium that can be found on the human foot.]
In the end, I wrapped the Limburger in plastic then tin foil and then plastic again and threw it in the fridge. I had thought of tossing it but then thought about how I had payed good money for that monstrosity and how I feel it my obligation to save the cheese in order to share the experience with unsuspecting visitors – preferably Limburger virgins like I had been. And also, there’s part of me still curious.

Online, I listened as the last remaining maker of Limburger in the United States revealed that the older generation are mostly the ones who still buy Limburger. He mentioned that sometimes it is enjoyed with a thick cut of raw onion as a sandwich. Sometimes it is enjoyed with sardines and horseradish on pumperknickel bread. And sometimes it is eaten with strawberry jam and toast as breakfast. I wonder if I might discover that – with such accompaniments – the taste would grow on me…
The Chestnuts finished roasting with a bit of water thrown in during the last five minutes for softening. I ate half of the bunch with a little salt. Unfortunately, they were not as delicious as I had hoped. Too dry. They probably needed an open flame or perhaps I simply cooked them too long. I remember buying a small bag of them from a street vendor in Switzerland during my college semester abroad. Loved them then.
Even so, that Limburger taste lingers still on my tongue. I’m glad I tried the cheese and even a little excited by the pungent power of its smell and taste. But ultimately, I’m disappointed. I can’t possilby imagine enjoying it spread on a toasted Everything Bagel nor do I possess the courage to act on my curiosity and give it another try. If only I had thought to combine the Limburger Cheese and Chestnuts. Well there’s always tomorrow’s Puttanesca…
What was your first time like with Limburger? Any Limburger lovers out there? I’ll understand if you wish to remain anonymous.
Limburger Virgins and Puttanesca Whores
The Pasta Puttanesca is for tomorrow. A couple years ago, I was living in New York City and an opera singer friend of mine whipped up a batch of the “whore’s pasta” as it’s commonly known or “pasta of the peasant prostitute” as I’ve now decided to call it forevermore. Whatever. Back then I had never heard of capers and was intrigued. In short, I ate and loved it and obviously haven’t forgotten about the dish though I no longer have the slightest bit of memory as to how it tasted. Well, I’ve decided to find out… again.
As for the Limburger, it also has long intrigued me. When I saw it mixed in with the other cheese such as Asiago, Feta, Blue, Goat and Havarti, I knew it was the one I wanted to try tonight. The name sounded familiar. I remember seeing it from time to time in the grocery. Also, and this will prove significant, I felt a sense of unease as I surfed through my mind for any sort of clue as to what I should expect when I opened the foil wrapper and cut off a taste. There flashed a foggy warning inside my mind that left no specifics of what I ought to beware. I dismissed it.
[If only I had studied entomology, perhaps I would have thought differently. Limburger is one of the few known Mosquito attractants.]
Later, at home in the kitchen, I tossed the chestnuts in some vegetable oil and roasted them in an iron skillet over medium heat after cutting an ‘x’ in each of their shells to prevent explosions. As they roasted, I unwrapped the Limburger and took a generous up-close intimate sniff.
Horror of horrors! Instantaneous three dimnesional memories of past encounters with dirty feet, undeodorized underarms and unhygenic old women flashed throughout my nostrils. Nevertheless, still curious (morbidly?), I took a knife and cut a small piece of the cheese and placed the morsel in my mouth. Surely the odor is an illusion and this famous fromage sold in stores all over will reveal itself to be a secret delight to the tongue, I thought.
Not so! Now instead of the nostrils it was my tongue which experienced something I would honestly imagine as equivalent to eating tofu bathed in corpses (yes morbidly!). But don’t get me wrong – I like tofu. It’s the corpses part which had awoken taste buds I never knew I had. There was even a weird tingling sensation that I suppose might be due to the enzymes listed as an ingredient. I really don’t know.
[It turns out that a main ingredient in Limburger is a bacterium that can be found on the human foot.]
In the end, I wrapped the Limburger in plastic then tin foil and then plastic again and threw it in the fridge. I had thought of tossing it but then thought about how I had payed good money for that monstrosity and how I feel it my obligation to save the cheese in order to share the experience with unsuspecting visitors – preferably Limburger virgins like I had been. And also, there’s part of me still curious.
Online, I listened as the last remaining maker of Limburger in the United States revealed that the older generation are mostly the ones who still buy Limburger. He mentioned that sometimes it is enjoyed with a thick cut of raw onion as a sandwich. Sometimes it is enjoyed with sardines and horseradish on pumperknickel bread. And sometimes it is eaten with strawberry jam and toast as breakfast. I wonder if I might discover that – with such accompaniments – the taste would grow on me…
The Chestnuts finished roasting with a bit of water thrown in during the last five minutes for softening. I ate half of the bunch with a little salt. Unfortunately, they were not as delicious as I had hoped. Too dry. They probably needed an open flame or perhaps I simply cooked them too long. I remember buying a small bag of them from a street vendor in Switzerland during my college semester abroad. Loved them then.
Even so, that Limburger taste lingers still on my tongue. I’m glad I tried the cheese and even a little excited by the pungent power of its smell and taste. But ultimately, I’m disappointed. I can’t possilby imagine enjoying it spread on a toasted Everything Bagel nor do I possess the courage to act on my curiosity and give it another try. If only I had thought to combine the Limburger Cheese and Chestnuts. Well there’s always tomorrow’s Puttanesca…
What was your first time like with Limburger? Any Limburger lovers out there? I’ll understand if you wish to remain anonymous.