SO YOU THOUGHT cheese was just something creamy and unbelievably delectable to pop into your mouth? Think again. This diverse substance is a battleground for bacteria, bureaucrats, and believers.

Among believers, Mother Noella Marcellino is an inspiration. For instance, she inspires headlines such as " 'Cheese Nun' Feta-ed for Her Scientific Work" and "French Honor American Nun as Big Cheese." I first learned of Mother Noella (a.k.a. the "cheese nun," though apparently she prefers not to be referred to as such) in a New Yorker article ("Raw Faith," by Burkhard Bilger, Aug. 19, 2002). A must-read for any cheese lover curious about the more byzantine aspects of cheese and its trade, this piece is redolent with juicy asides on the existence of a "raw-milk underground" and "the hushed inner sanctum of lactophilia in Manhattan."

Mother Noella (incidentally, the sibling of Sha Na Na drummer Jocko) is a 29-year resident of a Benedictine abbey in Connecticut. She recently earned a Ph.D. in microbiology with a dissertation titled "Biodiversity of Geotrichum Candidum Strains Isolate from Traditional French Cheese." It must be providence that Mother Noella's abbey, Regina Laudis, was founded in the same year – 1947 – that the Food and Drug Administration (or whatever its predecessor agency was called) required that all raw-milk cheeses be aged 60 days. The idea behind the 60-day rule is that pathogens can't survive in the medium of an aged cheese, which is drier and more acidic than fresh cheese. The discovery in the 1990s that 60 days may not be enough to render cheese completely pathogen free led to an attempt by the FDA to ban raw-milk cheeses completely, and the resulting furor fomented – or fermented – such organizations as the International Coalition to Preserve the Right to Choose Your Cheese. Although the United States has for years produced more cheese than any other country – 8.5 billion pounds in 2001, according to Bilger – the whole cheese squeeze came along at a time when the anti-industrial, artisanal cheese movement in the United States was really, um, coagulating. We Americans were finally moving away from Kraft and back to crafted, locally made cheeses, as well as enjoying a burgeoning taste for imported raw-milk cheeses. And once you get a taste for manchego, you're pretty willing to fight for your next fix.

Mother Noella's studies of the biodiversity of raw-milk fungi have made her a fervent proponent of raw-milk cheeses. As a Fulbright scholar in France, she traveled from cheesemaker to cheesemaker collecting samples of raw milk and discovered that even one kind of mold can have dozens of strains. In Mother Noella's eyes, preserving raw-milk fungi strains is like preserving the pixie tangerine, or the red-legged tree frog. All these forms of life "testify to the richness of creation."

This isn't the first time cheese has been a metaphor for the universe. In 1584, Domenico Scandella, an Italian miller on trial for heresy, explained his vision of creation thusly: "I have said that, in my opinion, all was chaos, that is, earth, air, water, and fire were mixed together; and out of that bulk a mass formed – just as cheese is made out of milk – and worms appeared in it, and these were the angels." A sort of cheese-centric big bang theory. Needless to say the worms-equals-angels thing didn't go over well with the Catholic powers, not to mention Scandella's other declarations, such as "You might as well go and confess to a tree as to priests and monks." He was put to death.

But there's more to enjoying cheese than fungi, worms, and cosmogony. Let's not forget beer. My own perspective on the richness of creation definitely includes the heavenly nuptials of cheese with this fermented liquid. I turned once more to Gordon Edgar, cheese-monger for Rainbow Grocery, for some professional pairing recommendations. First off, he suggested Chimay cheese (washed with beer, pungent, earthy, creamy) with Chimay beer: "Beery goodness made by Trappist monks. Those folks know how to throw a party!" Also, Lagunitas IPA with Vella Cheese mezzo secco: "These are two great Sonoma County products that compliment each other perfectly. The hoppiness of the Lagunitas IPA mixes great with the buttery sweetness of the mezzo," Edgar says. Sheana Davis (of the Epicurean Connection) recommends something from Capricious Cheese with Anderson Valley Brewing Co. stout – served with dried cherries and walnuts. I stumbled across a somewhat humbler but pretty transcendent combination myself the other day: Sierra Nevada wheat beer and Sun-ni Cheese Company twisted Armenian string cheese (with black nigella seeds) interspersed with bites of medjool dates.

I eagerly await the details of any beer and cheese permutations you care to share with me, dear reader. Meanwhile, I leave you with this essential tidbit of cheese wisdom from Edgar, cheese-monger extraordinaire:

Bay Guardian: When should you eat the rind of a cheese?

Gordon Edgar: If it tastes bad, don't eat it. That's your complete rule of thumb for cheese

E-mail Masha Gutkin at lydialeapfrog@yahoo.com.