In the local foodie scene, many Central Jersey restaurateurs know me as the girl that will gobble anything up. However, I have a truly shocking secret to confess, one that is frequently followed by doubt and dismay.  I don’t like cheese. No, not all cheese – I’ll say yes to a nibble of Pecorino and I’m even happy with some Parmigiano-Reggiano sprinkled on my pasta. However, thick, melted mozzarella or – God forbid – American cheese? I don’t even like to see it in person.

When I studied abroad in Florence, Italy, as a student at Monmouth University six years ago, one of the first questions people would ask me (seriously) is "How are you going to deal with the cheese?!" And I’ll admit, I was nervous. But I quickly discovered after arriving across the pond that it was no big deal. Actually, it wasn’t even an issue.