"It's been an amazing welcome so far from everyone in the neighborhood," says Forster, whose twenty-seat food lover's utopia struts deli cases, counters and a refrigerator chock-block with cheeses from around the globe, many of them not readily available, including several of her stinky French cheeses. "People have been really curious and excited to try some of the cheeses we have here that they may not have tried anywhere else," she adds, while paper-wrapping wedges of French edel de cleren, preferess montage and a perfectly ripe tomme de crayeusse, one of my favorite cheeses in the universe.
Forster is still waiting for the final sign-off from the state before she can pour wine, but the delay, she admits, gives her the opportunity to concentrate on explaining to her customers the nuances of all those cheeses. "While I'm a little disappointed that we can't serve wine yet, it gives us a little slush-fund of time to get to know our customers and make everything as perfect as we can," she says.
Forster hopes that the sign-off from the state will take place within the next few weeks, and when that happens, she'll host a series of "blowout parties" and midnight dinners.
When I stopped by on Friday, I found myself unwilling to leave, which is probably the whole point. This is a place where you want to linger. Take a look through our photo gallery, and you'll easily see why.
