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Say it with cheese, they say . . . so imagine the message you can send with a Gruyère reserve tart, writes DOMINI KEMP

CHEESE IS MY big downfall. I could happily gorge on good cheese and bread forever, with a few bits of fruit and quince jelly thrown in. But my tastes used to run a little more trailer park when I was a wee lass. I used to have a terrible thing for what I still call “plastic” cheese, the luminous orange sheets of heavily processed stuff which looked like it was made from the same DNA as Sunny Delight. Back when I lived on the other side of the Atlantic, I used to make my culinary creations out of Wonder Bread (which was indeed a wonder as it never went mouldy – don’t ask why), plastic cheese and American bacon (so salty and crisp) in a little toaster oven which was nifty for baking or grilling cheese sambos. They were simply fabulous.