Spanish Idiazabal

I liked smoked cheese because it reminds me of the smok­ing destruc­tion often wrought by my favorite bas­ket­ball team, the Kansas Jay­hawks. Each win­ter, I ingest a healthy cross-sec­tion of smoked food — from Cyclone flambe to charred Soon­er, from grilled and skew­ered Mis­souri Tiger on a bed of greens to ten­der­ly fric­as­seed Corn­husker with a side of roast­ed Aggie. This spring's offer­ings were unusu­al­ly plen­ti­ful and tooth­some; dur­ing an epic late March week­end, I was treat­ed to slow-roast­ed Blue Dev­il a mere 48 hours before feast­ing upon seared Ari­zona Wild­cat. The Wild­cat, I must admit, was espe­cial­ly deli­cious con­sid­er­ing the cru­el, ter­ri­ble, ruth­less, unfor­get­table sur­prise grilling he had admin­is­tered on a leg­endary Jay­hawk team in the round of 16 in March 1997. In com­par­i­son to these smoky delights, Span­ish Idi­az­a­bal hard­ly mer­its men­tion. Yes, it is much nicer than many smoked Jacks and goudas that have uncer­e­mo­ni­ous­ly parad­ed through my lit­tle cheese draw­er, but still, com­pared to the deep, rich smok­i­ness emit­ted by a Kansas State Wild­cat torched by indis­crim­i­nate aer­i­al assault by Kansas guards, it might as well be Cheez-Whiz.