Cheese is made by people.

I've now tried twice,  and I conclude that Australian oysters are superior to English ones,  giving AU its 2nd point against Europe .

It wasn't my  first trip to London but the first wasn't a fair test,  as the first was during Christmas week and everything was closed.  (Despite that handicap,  I discovered Ottolenghi a few hours before leaving,  and was forever changed by the revelation of white + wood.)

Pilgrimage obligations dispatched I went in search of a neighborhood to call home,  and more food.

I tried some classic British cuisine,  including  a very high quality scotch egg (didn't get it} and fried candy.  Impressed,  but then I love Oreo cookies under most conditions.

Spitalfields Artisan market has gone to the import darkside and I failed to avoid bad coffees along the way.

In fact the amount of money I spent on coffee during one week boggles the mind. Every cappuccino costs the same, just shy of  £3. But half are undrinkable.

The best was Monmouth Coffee,  with organic milk de rigeur.  And perfect Pastries.  And a luxuriously sensual and trusting retail environment.

And then I walked into Mecca (Neil’s Yard Dairy).  I had no idea what to expect from this store.  It was a mix of fish-shop washed floors and minimalist art gallery in which the cheese mongers' enthusiasm animated the air.  I tried to just look and not taste as I was trying still to enjoy the underwhelming vanilla donut I'd just eaten,  but they insisted,  further showing their love for the cheese with annoyance when I wouldn't eat the rind.

And those cheeses grew on me fast. They were so delicate! Each one had the names of the people who made it. They cut the cheese with a wire,  so they could sell tiny amounts ( rather then claiming the cheese can't be cut to a small piece and implying the customer is cheap, as they are wont to do in search of bigger sales at Formaggi Océllo).

And each cheese had the name of the people who  make it.  People,  making  cheese.