I like the loving cow and there have been times when I laughed at it. Obviously as a kid the Laughing Cow was great. Honestly, a red laughing cow, how could one not like that. On top of it, its rich creaminess felt very satisfying and comforting.
Later as an adult, the laughing cow kind of escaped my radar. But there has been one time when I worshipped the Laughing Cow. The good thing about Laughing Cow is that along with Coca Cola and Pringles it seems to be available all over the world. I even found some while travelling in the Stans, you know Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Absurdistan and so forth. My worst memory from the Stans was having two solid (or should I say liquid) weeks of severe Tourista. This is when I was mighty happy to find my secure and safe to eat Laughing Cow!!! Laughing Cow on Pringles may not seem to you like a gastronomical delight but washed down with some lukewarm coke it was the best thing in the world. Laughing Cow saved my life and it is worth me worshipping it for it. Strangely enough, even though I still can eat Laughing Cow today, I find Pringles absolutely disgusting now.
The Laughing Cow also has an interesting background. During the First World War, Leon Bel, a Comte cheesemonger, was serving in a supply regiment of the French army whose logo, painted on the supply trucks, was a laughing cow. This laughing cow was called the Wachkyri (pronounced Vache qui rit, or ‘laughing cow’) as it looked awfully similar to Richard Wagner’s Valkyries. It was therefore meant as a piss-taking logo against one of the cultural emblems of Germany.
Later when Leon Bel invented his melted cheese he reused the logo of his old regiment. And it was a marketing masterstroke. And in case you wonder, Babybel is made by the same company. These guys are geniuses.
In Germany it would be funny if the Laughing Cow was sold as la Wachkyri but it is sold as Die Lachende Kuh… disappointing.