Has it always been this low-quality pap? Yes, in fact. The term was coined in the 1800s by the English as a code to denote the imported cheese’s inferior quality. Other epithets were: “yellow cheese,” “factory cheese,” “Yankee cheese,” and “rattrap cheese.” But, as Wikipedia states, “Still, it was cheap, so it sold.” It was originally low-quality Cheddar, but has evolved into a Colby-Cheddar blend, and has now (presumably since the 1940s or 1950s) become a processed cheese that in many jurisdictions does not meet the legal definition of cheese and must therefore be labeled “cheese analogue” or “cheese product.”
All of which is fitting and apropos of my current view: it is not cheese. It feels slimy, as though it’s been jogging around the block and has worked up a sweat. And when you melt it, it melts too quickly and, as it cools, it develops a plastic-y carapace the texture of a popped balloon that is, quite frankly, just freakin’ G-R-O-S-S. Also, it’s packaged in individually-wrapped, “ready-made” slices, under the assumption that slicing off a piece of cheese yourself is slightly more effort than peeling away a wrapper.
It’s a sorry state of affairs that makes me wonder: is there any patriotism in the cheese aisle? I should hope not, at least not on our end, because if you are ever feeling jingoistic, consider: while your fellow citizens are eating American not-even-cheese, the Danish have Havarti, the English have Stilton, the Italians have Fontina, and the French – oh, the French – have Camembert. So, maybe, instead of pounding the cafeteria table and demanding to be served “Freedom Fries,” a dose of humility is in order. All places and peoples have talents and faults; one of our faults is in the culinary realm. American Cheese is our country’s badge of shame, the giant red “A” emblazoned on our smock.