I grew up as a fairly picky eater (my mom would probably call that an understatement). I became more cautiously adventurous as I moved through college. One time, toward the end of my four years there, I distinctly remember going out to a nice brunch and being somewhat disillusioned when there was goat cheese on whatever I had ordered. Quickly, though, dismay turned into delight, because, go figure, that chevre was good.
