Sooner or later, the gods of gouda will deliver a cheese that I don't like, but it hasn't happened yet. This youthful goat gouda is more light-hearted than its 2- or 4‑year cousins, the sorts with the sneaky creamy-slash-salty bite that roots you to your chair like you're James Bond in Moonraker, stuck in the centrifuge, face contorting. The two-month is a more playful cheese. It's lighter, less serious, and fresher. If cheeses were relatives, you'd ask the 2- and 4‑year goudas for advice in matters of the heart, but you'd take the two-month to a bar because it would help you meet girls. This particular gouda is just goaty enough to be satisfying when eaten with a Fuji apple after a short evening run and, like its elder cousins, it should always be washed down with dark beer.