The symmetry of the number 11

I like the number 11. It's the smallest double digit prime number. And since it is still 11 o'clock - I am beating the clock and will manage to post today!
Apart from liking certain numbers , you know what else I like? I like cheese. A lot. And after yesterday's salt soup fiasco I vowed like Scarlett O'Hara never to do that again.
I had an errand to run in Beverly Hills today. There's not much I like about BH, but there is one place I LOVE. And I mean, I luuuurve it. Meet today's boyfriend: the Cheese Store of Beverly Hills.

I walked in as if I were walking out of the desert and into a cold glass of diet coke. I inhaled the smell of mold and tangy goat milk, and looked into the eyes of a real cheese monger and told him -"I want three pieces of cheese. They'll have to be enough for dinner, and they have to rock my world".
They did. I got one sharp Sardinian cheese that tasted like a mature version of a Ptit Basque, and a Spanish creamy blue cheese that made my knees melt, and the most pornographic tiny burrata. I ate the cheese with a delicious balsamic cream (yes you read right: balsamic.cream. it was amazing) and shaved fennel with a tiny bit of lemon, olive oil and sea salt. The last of the gooey burrata (the part that was spread out over the plate, mixed in with some lemony fennel dressing and drops of the balsamic cream) was neatly scooped up with chunks of a honey crisp apple - those really are every bit as good as everyone says they are.

Ah redemption, thy name is burrata.