In a world of fantasy and magic, there existed a race of giants known for their culinary skill. Often mistaken for their colossal cousins, these titanic gourmands are actually an entirely different species. It would, in fact, be considered quite rude to so much as refer to these discerning dreadnoughts as mere “Giants.” Instead, they strictly refer to themselves solely as Epicureans.
Notable Epicureans include individuals like the “Judgey Juggernaut,” known worldwide for his mind-bogglingly sensitive palate and overly harsh criticisms of perfectly respectable culinary institutions. Although a bit harsh, few can contest the accuracy of his assessments. Excepting, of course, the incident of a surprise visit where the owner of the establishment referred to Judgey J as a Giant. The scathing review following that visit led to said proprietor being run out of town. Forced to sell his land on the cheap, the proprietor was forced to retire far in the country where he was never heard from again (at least by civilized society).
Another shining example of the Epicurean race is known only as the “Languid Leviathan.” Following the tragic early deaths of his procrastinating parents and sluggish siblings, the leviathan came into quite a fortune at the ripe young age (for an epicurean) of 150 years old. Upon receipt of this vast fortune, the Leviathan decided that he never wanted to move again. Furthermore, he would pay heaps and heaps of money to any and all those who brought him copious amounts of food.
While many suspected he would starve, they underestimated both the greed of the other enlightened races and the amount of money that the Leviathan had inherited and was willing to pay. Although he has never specifically stated so, Leviathan particularly prefers all those foods which begin with the letter L. Lemons, lentils, lettuce, licorice, and lobster are all included. The notable exception being the dreaded “leftovers.” The individual who brought that offering, coincidentally named “Larry,” was never seen or heard from again after his meeting with the Leviathan. Critics speculate he was eaten, while the Leviathan himself remains silent on the issue. The world may never truly know the truth.
Generally speaking, most giant races are long lived. Epicureans are no exceptions to this rule, often living hundreds of years. The oldest Epicurean being approximately 900 years old. That said, despite their capacity for longevity, Epicureans tend to die relatively young due to things like heart disease, high blood pressure, and diabetes.
Because of, or perhaps in spite of their longevity, these collossal connoiseurs generally choose one specific area, or even sometimes a single meal or dish, and focus their entire lives on making it perfectly. One Epicurean was said to have spent 115 years on creating the perfect omelets. Ultimately, she gave up after being unable to determine which particular cut of ham would meld best with the complicated flavors of the mushrooms and basil. While most of these titanic tasters create their own deliciousness, there are some that choose to take tasting sabbaticals. Epicureans like the Judgey Juggernaut travel across the globe in search of their perfect meal. Hoping to one day reach the food based nirvana that is the center of their very complicated and epicurious religion.
Let us also not forget about the Cyclopean Sniffers, the greatest wine snobs on the planet. These super sniffers are world renowned for being able to discern the individual chemicals present in the earth that leads to the exact “terroir” smell in the oldest and finest vintages of wine. Unfortunately, they tend to alienate others with their constant nose raising and their propensity to look down on others. Judgey J has an ongoing feud with the Cyclopeans after he refused to apologize for his cutting criticism of a fellow critic where he argued that he and his people had “evolved noses and no depth.” Given the sole eye of the Cyclopeans, this was deemed universally offensive, but the other, more diminutive races, find it quite difficult to care.
Now that we have some background, we can begin delving into the main event.
Our story begins with a relatively unknown giantess named Mimolette. Born to an epicurean father and a giantess mother, Mimolette faced considerable discrimination from her Epicurean kin. Inevitably, the dominant Giant genes tend shine through when it comes to physical appearance. This leads to individuals like poor Mimolette whose looks almost universally unsettle other Epicureans. None of the other races, including the giants, understand or can identify this distinction. This leads many critics to believe that the epicureans are merely, “elitist pricks making it up to make themselves feel better about their own misery.” Tough words from a particularly boorish dwarven columnist known for his hard-hitting op-ed’s.
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Regardless, Mimolette had to live a relatively hard life. Despite all this, she considered herself relatively happy. Her parents loved her very much and her family was well off. Mimolette had her own avid obsession with food, specifically with all things cheese. Despite her half-giant heritage, or perhaps because of it, her obsession with cheese rivaled even the most dedicated Epicureans.
For several years, she even considered changing her name to Turophilea, after the English word turophile meaning “cheese lover.” Much to her chagrin, the name itself had been sullied a decade previously by a young Epicurean starlet in a rather sordid affair where she was caught masticating quite loudly in the public restroom of a respected dining hall (a big no-no in Epicurean society).
As such, Mimolette maintained her name. Alienated by her peers and unable to self-identify, Mimolette threw herself into a cheese-centric lifestyle early in life. Fascinated by the creation of her favorite treat, Mimolette spent her first few centuries traveling far and wide tasting and learning how to craft different cheeses.
Eventually, Mimolette became one of the world’s foremost experts on everything cheese. Dissatisfied with the cheeses she tasted, Mimolette firmly believed that the age of the great cheesemakers had passed and wanted nothing more than to lead a cheesy revolution. Mimolette’s ultimate goal was to create a golden age of cheese. Finding no other candidates she deigned viable, she elected herself as the leader of the movement. She then used her inheritance to buy a large deserted tract of land around a dormant volcano and named herself Empress of the Turophilic Empire and rapidly created a surprisingly efficient cheese-based economy.
Mimo’s vision was that she would be able to craft the perfect cheese through trial and error and the scientific method by maintaining full control over every aspect of the cheesemaking process. As such, she spent years gathering the proper lifestock to produce a variety of different types of milk. A large portion of the Turophilic empire was seeded with a wide variety of plants for the animals to graze on.
She studied chemistry and alchemy to learn the ideal acids, bacteria, and coagulants to add to various milks to create different results and spent the next few centuries mixing and matching methods in an attempt to create the perfect cheese.
The Turophilic Empire soon became world renowned for its revolutionary cheeses. All across the world people knew of Mimo’s cheesy dynasty and her rarer cheeses would sell for huge sums of money. Sadly, Mimolette was long since lost to the world at this point. Despite her cheeses becoming mind-boggilingly delicious, she was forever dissatisfied and became increasingly erratic in what she used in her cheeses.
Empress Mimolette began dismantling her empire piece by piece in order to fund increasingly erratic cheesing. This eventually led to her sacrificing her fellow turophiles in bizarre and pointless rituals wherein blood and bone marrow were crucial acids and coagulants in the cheesemaking process. Mimo became convinced that there was in fact a form of previously unknown cheese magic that could be harnessed to optimize and enhance the cheese process and flavor. Dissuaded by the fanaticism and clear insanity of their leader, the turophilic empire fell apart around Mimolette.
Old, decrepit and alone in her room in the center of a dormant volcano, Mimolette began what would be her final cheese. She spent hours staring and massaging the cheese and simply willing the final wheel of cheese to be tastier. She sang to it and whispered sweet nothings to it. After centuries of handling cheeses, she was fully aware of the best cheese handling processes and gave her undivided attention to this single wheel. It was at the very end, when she knew she didn’t have long to live, forgotten and alone, that Mimolette finally decided to taste the fruits of her labor. Mimo cut the cheese quite loudly, smelled her own cheese, put the cheese it in her mouth and gasped. Her entire life’s work led to this moment and all she could think was, “WORTH IT!!” It was the single most delicious cheese that had ever existed. Mimolette gobbled up virtually all of the cheese and promptly fell out of her chair and died. As she took her final breath, a giant crumb of cheese about the size of a pebble fell out of the epicurean’s mouth and into a crack in her floor leading deep into the dormant volcano. As darkness claimed the one-time Empress of the Turophilic Empire, she received the message she’d always wanted.
CONGRATULATIONS! You have created The Big Cheese.
CONGRATULATIONS! You have discovered Cheese Magic.
CONDOLENCES! You have died.
In her final moments, Empress Mimolette had created cheese magic through her outrageous dedication. Sadly, she would be the sole user for centuries and the methods would be lost to time.