I Let a Cheese Psychic Read My Destiny—Big Mistake or Genius?
I’ve had tarot cards thrown at me across a table since I was in high school. One time, a psychic told me my aura was the color of dryer lint. Whatever that meant. But a cheese reading? That was new. Naturally, I had to try it. Plus, somewhere deep inside me, I knew the only real advice I’d get about whether I should quit my job would come from a wedge of Humboldt Fog.
That’s how I ended up in a virtual reading with Chicago’s own “cheese clairvoyant,” watching her point to mold veins and rind bubbles. I was skeptical and fascinated in equal measure. But as the cheese began to reveal pieces of my life with weird accuracy, I started to wonder: was this absurd… or oddly brilliant?
How I Went From Tarot Skeptic to Cheese Believer
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Cheese-based divination is officially called tyromancy. It has been around since at least the second century. Artemidorus, a Greek diviner with a long scroll of opinions, wasn’t a fan. He lumped cheese readers in with necromancers and dice-throwers, which is probably the ancient version of rolling your eyes and dismissing stuff. But in medieval England, cheese readings were serious business. People carved names into hunks of curd and waited to see which one molded first to predict their future spouse.
These days, Jennifer Billock, a Chicago-based journalist-turned-cheese-clairvoyant, practices tyromancy through private sessions and group workshops. She reads cheese by studying mold patterns, crack shapes, vein direction, and even how crumbles fall on a plate. She’s also the author of eight books, runs the Kitchen Witch newsletter, and casually makes custom spells on the side. Busy woman.
Choosing My Cheese Lineup (Panic at the Dairy Case)
I booked a virtual session. Beforehand, Jennifer asked me to select four cheeses: one for my past, one for my present, one for my future, and one for a question. She didn’t specify brands or types, just something with texture or surface detail. I panicked and bought six different wedges from the fancy section at Whole Foods. I went with a tangy Humboldt Fog for my past, a weirdly aggressive blue for the present, a nutty Comté for the future, and a rogue chunk of drunken goat cheese for my bonus question: Should I finally quit my job?
My Reading: Spirals, Cracks, and Cheese-Based Clarity
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I sent Jennifer labeled photos. She replied quickly, saying she saw a spiral in the Humboldt Fog, which meant my past was full of false starts that eventually led me in the right direction. Accurate, considering that I’ve tried five different careers. The blue cheese had a cracked ridge through the center, which apparently symbolized a current rift with someone close. Also accurate, seeing how my partner and I weren’t speaking after a petty fight over thermostat settings.
When she moved to the Comté, things got strangely specific. She pointed out a crescent shape on one side and called it a sign of incoming clarity. According to her, I’d make an important decision within a week that would bring emotional peace. Honestly, I was hoping for lottery numbers, but emotional clarity sounded fine too.
Then came the goat cheese. The surface was mostly smooth, but there was a single bubble near the edge. Jennifer hovered over it with her cursor. “That,” she said, “is hesitation.” According to the cheese, I was sitting on an idea I hadn’t acted on out of fear. But there was also a faint zigzag line nearby, which she called a sign of momentum. “The cheese is saying: just go for it.”
Reader, I quit my job.
Okay, not immediately. But I did give notice three weeks later after lining up freelance work. That zigzag pattern stuck in my brain and felt like the nudge I needed.
Tyromancy Is Weirdly Grounding
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Look, I’m not saying cheese is psychic. I’m saying cheese might be a surprisingly effective mirror. The symbols Jennifer found weren’t pulling secrets out of thin air. They worked because they prompted me to reflect and to connect dots I was already considering.
Jennifer says most of her readings feel accurate to the people receiving them. She’s done hundreds, and yes, she’s read everything from feta crumbles to vegan cheddar slices. One woman even had her fortune read through Kraft Singles. The trick, Jennifer says, is surface variation. Sessions cost $45 for individuals or less for groups, and she often partners with cheese shops or wine bars in Chicago for live events.
Final Thoughts From the Cheese Table
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I didn’t expect to feel seen by a wedge of Comté, but here we are. The reading was weirdly insightful and just introspective enough to stick with me. If nothing else, it beat another vague astrology app telling me to avoid confrontation and drink more water. Next time, I might ask the cheddar about love.