Confessions of an E-queen: rubber cheese and other delicacies

Over the years, I have heard a multitude of protests against the phenomenon of ‘rubber cheese’, presumably the produce that comes ready-sliced and packed in plastic boxes. The company of these Stilton-addicted epicureans always makes me uncomfortable because, you see, I love rubber cheese. I love it, Lidl’s Schmelzkase being a particular favourite. I just love the sensation of the creamy, tangy, tasty stuff, melting on toast slice and tongue. And now that my low tastes have come out of the larder, be warned, there follows a confessional dossier of other excruciating addictions.
From my earliest days I have craved tomato ketchup, have thrilled to the sight of globs of the red stuff glistening atop golden chips and crispy fish. A youthful craving for Tuc biscuits, those salty, fatty slivers of sawdust and e-numbers left me with skin akin to Freddy Kruger. But this pales in comparison to my love of Pot Noodles, sauces dried in bags and, indeed, absolutely anything that required reconstituting. I was fascinated, and still am, by the notion that food could have the moisture squeezed out of it, be kept in suspended animation in foil packets and then be brought back to life when the consumer requires. Even the re-hydration process is alluring; the sudden rush of hot water, the gentle fizzing and popping as wizened husks of vegetable matter spring into being as green pea, orange carrot and red pepper – bless the scientists!
Any epicurean waxing lyrical about the ‘natural’ and the ‘organic’ can go bury himself in a pile of manure. And my (lack of) tastes do not stop at savoury, oh no. I love the sweet, too, every Frankenstein’s monster of tooth-rotting confection that the taste-chemists can come up with, please send gift-wrapped to me…