Stilton is notoriously pricey in and around the greater Kutztown area. Easily the most expensive cheese at Weis Markets, its more than slightly off putting to the cost-sensitive shopper. So when I discovered this veiny, pungent gem nestled in a display case alongside its mango and blueberry Stilton siblings( for a mere portion of the price found at the steep cliffs of the supermarket), I absolutely did not hesitate to swoop in with hawk-like precision and request approximately two dollars worth of the milky gold (just what I required for my experiment).

With the unmarked prize in hand I returned home, giddy with an oddly energizing anxiety. What was this moldy mass going to taste like? Was it going to be so rank as to rob my tongue and stomach of all capacity to experience pleasure or would this cheese be heartily satisfying, like a well aged Parmesan? Well, I simply had to find out by experience. So, approximately twenty or thirty minutes before I planned to be asleep, I broke off an adequate portion of the creamy drug and, somewhat hastily, popped it into my mouth.

Certainly not your fragile intestined Aunt Gloria's bedtime snack, the cheese saturated my mouth with its raw power. I admit, I somewhat enjoyed the sensation of being so overpowered by a dairy product. The pungency seemed to coat the entirety of my throat as it went down in a brazen departure. I threw aside my pretentious vocabulary and emitted a blunt "woah".

Probably entirely psychological, the effects seemed to blossom within me just moments after consumption. I felt a little expansive and slightly elated. The Stilton was inside of me. I went to bed.

What ensued was one of the most exhausting, tumultuous nights of "sleep" I had experienced in quite some time. I certainly slept the entire night but the series of dreams I endured left me feeling otherwise. One after another unusually vivid dreams seperated by mere heart beats replaced my usual extinguishing of conciousness. Reflectiong back on the now far removed night, I remember feeling electricity, heat, burning unrest and a persistent whirling sensation for most of the night. Stilton was playing games, and I don't mean Chutes and Ladders.

I awoke the next morning physically rested yet psychologiically exhilerated and exhausted. At first my mind skipped to thoughts of how I could market this potent beast but then I realized the ride offered by this demon could provide more of an "I survived Stilton" appeal rather than one geared toward regular consumption. Simply put, this English monster is not for the weakly constituted, wary consumer. Beware.