Now that that’s out of the way, a story:
Once upon a time, many (four?) years ago, my gay other half and I went to a fabulous dinner at York Street that I knew would leave me fat, happy, and at a loss of words. What I was not expecting, however, was the dessert: Bleu Balls. What???Tiny chocolate truffles filled with bleu cheese. First, Jason and I giggled uncontrollably, though that could have been due more in part to the amount of wine we had consumed. Second, I refused to eat them. Say what you will, but I was not so keen on putting (a) smelly moldy cheese, and (b) something called “bleu balls,” into my mouth. (*giggle*)
Flash forward a year: Jason and I are at York Street once again. I’ve had a significant amount of wine. And Sharon once again serves Bleu Balls. By this point, I’ve experienced the many joys of “smelly moldy cheese”: Roquefort, Gorgonzola, Cambozola, Stilton, Camembert, etc., and I was decidedly a fan. So I put on my big girl pants, took another swig of wine, and hurriedly took a bite of a bleu ball.
Holy. Eff. It was magical! My only regret is that I gave Jason my second ball because I figured I wouldn’t like it. Wrong!
After a few years of regaling other foodies with my tales of eating Bleu Balls (*giggle*), I decided this past December to try my hand at making them myself. I found a really easy recipe and set to work…
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