I did it. After many fits and starts, I finally finished an entire tub of the curd. In the past, I would buy it. I might eat a quarter cup....then return a month and a half later to toss it out. This time I set my mind to conquering my fear. This is my story:
I approached the fresh tub and pulled it out of the fridge. Carefully, I pulled back the lid, then the foil wrapper, both with a 4-1-1 Tempo, as recommended on JP Fitness. It's hard to say which hit me first, the smell or the appearance of those little curdled globs, quivering. Were they shaking? Yes, I convinced myself. They were afraid, for this time they knew none of them were going home.
I mixed a quarter cup in the blender with milk, fresh berries, and yogurt. I quaffed it down like a guy on a hot summer day with an ice-cold :PEEJ. Surprisingly, not bad.
The next morning I went back...for more. Disaster! My wife had finished the milk. That left only yogurt. I mixed the two. The appearance was ghastly. The smell was horrid. I started eating. Crushing tiny curds between my teeth, battling dry heaves, I forced the curd down into my stomach with the passion and fervor of a religious zealot. It was, as anticipated, awful.
Day 3....the lessons of Day 2 had been learned. The more ingredients you had to pair up with the Food of Hades, the better. Again, I went with milk, and decided to mix in a little Vanilla Whey...it wasn't bad. Hmmmmmm, I thought. Perhaps there is something to the Cult of the Curd.
Last night, I picked up the last of the curd and placed it before me on the counter. I was going for a PR, and I meant to have my day. The curd was afraid, but it had the quivering fury of a caged and cornered animal...and then I went to the cupboard and unveiled my secret weapon: Pineapples!!! I looked at my daughter and told her today was my day that I was going to finish the vile tub before me. She looked at me and said, "Daddy. You don't have to do this." But we both knew I did. I spooned some pineapple into the curd-tub. I rosined my hands. I got into position, and began. Sure enough, the pineapple quashed the foul stench, the bitter taste of angry curds. Halfway through, I let forth my barbaric, "YAWP!", signaling to all the world that today, I would be victorious, that had the very hordes of Hell sallied forth to protect their kinsman, I would have nonetheless thrashed them back to their black inferno and had my victory!
And so, I stand before you, a man assured of himself. I have joined the ranks of those who have suffered, but who know the limits of their own suffering, and have found themselves no longer wanting. The curd is now mine, trained like a wild beast to do my bidding, to build my body, to nourish my muscles, and yes, to remind me of the power that is inside of me.