Wanda eyed the globular merchandise inside the sealed glass case with equal parts fascination and wrinkle-nosed distate. The “Follow Your Tastebuds” guidebook had gushed about this place, said it was a must-see for any true hardcore novelty-seeking foodie, but it seemed more likely that the proprietor was just pulling some weird marketing stunt or practical joke. The neatly lettered sign next to the fist-sized circle of what looked like some sort of chevre read simply: Whale Cheese.

Wanda looked up to see the skinny white-haired man behind the counter peering at her expectantly over his reading glasses. “Would you like to taste something?” he asked.

“Whale cheese? How can that be real?” she blurted. “How in the world do you get the milk?”

“Ah, yes, our specialty. You know, whale milk has the highest percentage of fat of any mammal. It makes a truly astounding soft cheese, like nothing you’ve ever tasted. Let me show you.” He scraped a bit off the cheese and put it on a square cracker, handed it to her.