The Hungry Poet: A Life in Food — Dairylea Triangles

Subscribe to Andrew's weekly newsletter here for all of his latest writing.

In the realms of processed cheese, there were five big players: The Kraft Cheese Slice, The Babybel, Cheese Strings, Primula (cheese ‘spread’ which came in a toothpaste shaped tube) and, last but not least, The Dairylea Triangle. The Dairylea Triangle was rivalled by The Laughing Cow triangle, but Dairylea was the connoisseur’s choice (unless they were on offer at the supermarket). And there were always Dairylea Triangles at Gaggy’s.

When it came to food my brother David was revolting. Processed cheese particularly seemed to bring this side out of him. He would, for example, get a number of Dairylea triangles, push them up against the front of his teeth and then grin, or he’d squeeze the Primula squeezy cheese directly from the tube into his mouth and then talk with his mouth open. Delightful, I’m sure you’ll agree.

Knowing what we now know about processed food, we’d give these little foil shaped triangles a wide berth. However there was something so irresistible about the cold circular blue and yellow cardboard container taken from the fridge, the shiny foil winking at us in the fridge light saying ‘go on’. Sometimes we would spread it on half a toasted slice of Irwin’s white Nutty Krust, a large white plain loaf made in Belfast. It was best enjoyed, though, directly from the fridge on its own. Having walked back from Primary School, because my mother would have been working at the Post Office, with my aunty who ran the Post Office, you’d find the little red plastic thread and pull to tear open the foil, to reveal a perfect triangle of whiteness. Ours was not to question how they made food so pristine and appealing to children, as we held these freaky little cheese concoctions up to the Crossgar sunlight in wonder, before devouring.