My Epic Quest for Norwegian Brown Cheese
A magazine article sparked a craving for Norwegian brown cheese—what followed was a little urban adventure worthy of a storybook.
Today’s post is all about my little adventure with Norwegian brown cheese.
As I wrote in yesterday’s blog, I’ve been totally hooked on this Norwegian magazine all about friluftsliv. In one of the interviews, the word “brown cheese” popped up. Brown cheese—brunost—is a popular item on Norwegian breakfast tables, made by boiling down goat or cow whey until it caramelizes into a sweet, fudge-like cheese. Over ten years ago, a friend who had studied in Norway introduced me to it, so I already knew it existed. Then, during my trip to Norway in June, I was reunited with it at a hotel breakfast buffet. “What a rich, happiness-in-cheese form this is!” I thought, as I happily shaved slice after slice onto whole grain bread every morning.
That memory made me recall seeing it last year at the gift shop of the Swedish American Museum in Andersonville, Chicago’s “Swedish town.” So today, I hopped on a couple of buses to see if I could get some.
But when I got there… nothing. No brown cheese in the fridge! Slight panic set in, so I asked the shop clerk. She looked regretful and said, “We only stock it during the holiday season. It’s such a shame—it’s so good.” I asked if she knew of anywhere in Chicago that might have it, and she mentioned a cheese shop I didn’t recognize. I thanked her, wandered around the store a bit to calm myself down, and then—
She came back to me and said, “Maybe Jewel-Osco has it!” She’d actually searched online for me. How sweet is that?! I quickly checked which store might have it… and it turned out the Jewel-Osco near my house—the one I’d gone to just yesterday—had it in stock! Even better, it was right along my bus route back from Andersonville.
As I thanked her and hopped on the bus, I suddenly thought, “Wait… this is just like The Alchemist.” In the book, the protagonist goes on a journey to find a treasure he saw in a dream. Along the way he has encounters, losses, and detours, only to discover the treasure somewhere totally unexpected. My “treasure” was brown cheese—spotted in a magazine, stuck in my mind, sending me on a bus trip. It wasn’t at my intended destination, but thanks to the shop clerk’s kind guidance, I ended up finding it somewhere I never expected. For a moment, I felt like the main character in my own little story.
And needless to say, by lunchtime I was eating that brown cheese on whole grain bread from Lost Larson, a bakery in Andersonville. Pure bliss.