Let’s Brie Friends

by Robert Brooks

Long before the messiness of O-week became a distant memory, I dared to eat brie like pizza.

It was my friends’ and my first time going out, and in true freshman fashion, we celebrated our frat annex conquest at CTB. But while everyone else went to the counter to order their bagels, I snuck away to the grab-and-go cooler to procure the ultimate delicacy: a slice of brie swaddled in saran wrap. It didn’t take long for me to devour the treat. Starting at the tip I munched my way through its gooey center. And by the time my friends returned from the counter, all I had left was the crust—that thick piece of rind at the bottom. Yet all they had for me was ridicule. One friend found it weird while another was startled by my ability to eat soft cheese so quickly. In my newfound shame, I realized: they didn’t understand brie like I did.

To me, brie will always be the ultimate luxury. For one, its French. For another, its aged tones of mushrooms and butter-like texture epitomizes decadence. While other kids ate PB&J sandwiches in elementary school, I ate brie wedged between baguette slices. Bougie— I know, but I was always willing to share. And I’m still willing to share because brie is meant to be communal. I may be able to gorge on a wheel of brie all alone, but it tastes even better split with others. Take the classic charcuterie board for example. Above all its components reigns brie. And I know no group of friends that hasn’t gossiped, laughed, and cried over a cheese plate and wine, with brie being the star of the evening. In fact, I know many of the authors of this publication have bonded exclusively over brie.

A week later we returned to CTB. And naturally, I journeyed to the grab-and-go cooler again. After buying my brie, I went to the table where my friends were sitting, awaiting the ridicule as I took my first bite. But before my teeth could even touch the brie’s pale flesh, my friends unveiled their own slices and joined me in a marvelous display of gluttony.

I still remember the glares lanced at our rindravaged ritual from distant tables: some of disgust, some of jeer, and many of amusement. But in the end none of us cared. We were united in our shame.