Do You Know That It's Hard To Cut A Queso De Bola?

Man, I tried it and I almost lost a finger. All I want is a few pieces to go with the hamon we cooked for noche buena. My friend ,J., is apparently adept in doing it. So, he did cut it for me. First, he cut a few centimeters from the top of the ball to make a flat surface, placed the tip of the knife at the center and carved little wedges with the bottom half of the blade. He maneuvered the knife freely, holding the tip with the right hand and sliced across the flat surface. produding small wedges of the cheese.

After my first try, I stood there watching him, gnawing at the cheese bits I got from the top potion that he took out; breaking piece by piece and munching the tiny bits of cheese that came out from the process.

"There's no way I am gonna do that."

No way. I was wincing on the way how he got the tiny wedges. A tiny slip of the knife is an obvious way to disaster. Being the non-health-insured persons in the house, there is no way in this earth that I will repeat his process of cutting queso de bola. Would I take the risk for the taste of pinoy Christmas (that is queso de bola)? No way. I began to appreciate moldy feet cheese anyway since I got here in the US. Roquefort and Gorgozola are the best although they really smell like feet, after wading through the flood waters of Espana. So, I'd better stay in easy-to-cut (safe) cheese. Even the red wax of the queso de bola looks like blood to me. And no, I am not going to Sweeney-Todd my left thumb for that. I

But gosh, its sooo good! Paired with the ham we cooked, the queso de bola was awesome!! It transported me to my childhood Christmas days when we used to spend it in my grandma's house. She loves queso de bola and Excellente ham (which my mom used to get from Quiapo). Her house smells of barako coffee all the time (my grandfather is from Batangas) and Christmas eve is no exception (even though its 12 midnight). After exchanging gifts, we used to sit around the table, grab our share of ham and queso de bola, dip our bread in the coffee and finish it with a mouthful of Christmas fruits (that means apples, grapes and pears. We only can afford to eat those fruits during Christmas).

I never considered it a special treat since we have queso de bola every freaking Christmas and it never runs out until the week after New Year (sometimes I would even give some of it to the cats, you know, just to get it over with). My lola would slice it then into wedges, so I never had an idea how difficult it can be. Not until now. I learned that you have to be, at least, a Benjamin Barker to get a freaking slice of that hard, uneventful, salty cheese.

But, I am glad that we had queso de bola this Christmas. It took away the melancholy of being too far from home. Every bite gave a tiny bit of nostalgia; an illusion of being home, of how life can be so simple and uncomplicated. Those simple bits of cheese on a cold winter Christmas night (that waaas so deep), on a noche buena spend with friends, whom you now consider your family, can make a huge difference.