My name is Brandon, and I'm addicted to goat cheese.

I crave tomato sauce a loooot. Not sure why--but whatever, bring on the lycopene. Bruschetta is a quick and easy appetizer. I took a can of chopped tomatoes and mixed in 2 cloves of garlic (minced), balsamic vinegar, crushed red pepper, fresh basil and fresh spearmint. I crumbled some goat cheese on the bread, added the tomato mixture and popped these babies in the oven for about 10 minutes at 350*.


For dinner, Brandon cooked chicken tenderloins with sliced zucchini and squash. He added a couple cloves of garlic, balsamic, and a sprig of fresh rosemary in the cast iron. Holy moly that thing is hot. Have I mentioned I burn myself nearly every time I cook? It's awful. My left arm makes me look like an unsuccessful suicidal disaster.



So the three of us were sitting at the dining room table (woah, fancy night), and all of a sudden Brandon asks me for more goat cheese. Seriously? It was rubbed all over his bruschetta, did he really need more? YES. So I go get the log. We were also eating canteloupe & honeydew, and he started crumbling it over that!

As we finished eating and were discussing school, work, and women, Brandon asked for the oatmeal toffee cookies I made the other night. Sure, sure, have something sweet for dessert. Then this conversation actually happened.

Brett: "Oh geeeezzzzz Brandon, are you gonna put goat cheese on that too?"
Christina: "NO."
Brandon, laughing: "I'll do it. It's goat cheese. It tastes good on everything."

NO.

And because one crumble isn't enough:


EWWWW B STOP IT!That is the face of an addict. He needs a goat cheese intervention. Brett is now worried that he's going to come home one day to find Hunley missing and Brandon passed out with goat cheese all over himself.

Suggestions of good therapists in our area are welcome.