The supermarket cheese-tasting
So I’m walking through Choitrams on the never-ending search for Quorn mince (does anyone know where I can find this?) when a sales lady holding two plates of cheese invites me to try some.
“Okay,” I say. I am, after all, a little peckish and a cube of cheese might be better than a six-pack of the chocolate croissants I’m thinking about. “What are they?”
“Cheese,” she says.
I try again. “What’s this one?” I ask, pointing at the paler one.
“Normal cheese,” she says, deadpan.
“And this one?” I point to a reddish one. “Red Leicester?”
There’s a pause while I weigh up cheddar or “normal cheese”.
“Try both,” she says, helpfully. So I do. They’re okay. Certainly they’ll keep the tummy demons quiet for a few more minutes, but I think I ought to enquire some more as she’s presumably trying to sell the stuff.
“Mmm,” I say, raising an eyebrow in some sort of “yummy” face. “Nice. So which ones are they?”
The sales lady looks blank. I point at the cheese counter.
“Which ones are they here? To buy?”
“American,” she says.
“American cheese?” I ask. “What brand?”
She looks blank. “American,” she repeats.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Very nice.”
I leave, wondering if she’s there to sell cheese after all; maybe it’s just a snack service for hungry shoppers. Dubai can be a funny place, you know.