What’s next…the cheese bar?

I’m going to really try to not be too snide here, but occasionally one stumbles onto a “travel story” and must let out a little sigh, given all the other possible subjects in the world that might have made a worthy 1000-word feature story.

Forbes Traveler brings us its latest survey of the best restaurants in America to go for…cheese.

I am trying here, dear Gadling readers.

First off, the article by its very existence implies that Americans’ knowledge of the cheese world pretty much stops with Kraft Singles. But there is a more sinister implication to such a piece: Is cheese becoming the next arena for the snob?

I make allowances for oenophiles, who can be truly insufferable, simply because I like drinking good wine too much, and if you have one or two in you regular stable of friends you are far more likely to get hooked up with some good stuff free.

Beer fanatics and connoisseurs of other spirits (whiskey, tequila, sake) can be tolerated (same reason as above).

My best friend is somewhat of a “foodie,” or so the term goes these days, and yet his exacting standards on many cuisines and restaurants somehow does not allow the overall joy of eating a meal together to seep from the table.

I’m not so willing to accept cheese aficionados into the fold, though.

To be sure, the world of cheese is as varied as that of any specific spirit, with distinct origins, scents and tastes to consider. I even like the cheese plate (or cheese course) that caps off a lot of European meals, though it was hard for me to get used to consuming so much dairy after the real task at hand.

My objection to such a piece is that I feel another snob trend is very much afoot, and I’m not sure there’s room for it. (A secondary objection might just rest in the fact that I can’t imagine pitching to an editor such an article along the lines of, Hey! Where can you go for the best cheese in America?!)

Cheese snobbery is probably already among us, I realize that. And it will be harder to deal with. After all, the chief antidote for dealing with a drink snob is to, well, drink more. I’m thinking of a Kingsley Amis line right now that says something along the lines that a booze bore begins to make sense after the third round.

So, you can dull your senses in this case.

But what happens when the person across from you has his nose dancing across a piece of smoky Auvergne gaperon? Or English Caerphilly?

Soon, he (or, to be fair, she) will start telling you that the next time you’re in Louisville, you must sample Kenny’s Kentucky Blue cheese at the venerable Seelbach Hotel. Or that the scrumptious Virginia cheese plate at the Inn at Little Washington is to die for.

What will take the edge off this? Fondue? Hey, it’s got schnapps…

Postscript: I didn’t pull the above reference of Auvergne gaperon out of my own knowledge of cheese. It’s highlighted in the ridiculous Forbes story about cheese I reference, as presented at La Panetière in Rye, N.Y.

The piece says that this noble cheese goes particularly well with “the 1914 Château Latour brought up from the award-winning cellar.” If you want more evidence that such silly features are out of touch with most travelers, consider that the wine mentioned goes for, oh, about $3,000.

However, if you’re willing to bring me in on that bottle, then I’ll listen to you talk about cheese all night long.