The text message was innocent enough.

Cheese and wine at ours tonight, 7pm?

Three cheese emojis, two wine glasses and one dancing senorita later, I reply.

See you then. 

When 5.30pm finally rolls around, I race out of the office faster than one of Donald Trump’s runaway tweets. I head to the bottle shop and pick up the usual suspects, before heading to Michael and Jess’ place. There’s nothing sweeter than the sound of two chilled chardonnay bottles rattling in a bag on a Friday night.

Michael, 33, a manager at a small consultancy group, opens the door. It’s clear by the drawn-out hug that he’s already on his third glass of wine, and keen to forgo the redundant questions about my wellbeing. I offer my contribution to the party and walk in to join Jessica, 32, an inner-city lawyer, in the kitchen with the others.

Too old to hit the clubs but not responsible enough to just settle for a quiet night in, we’ve made cheese-and-wine nights a bit of a ritual over the years. After a week of ‘working’ we sit around Michael and Jess’ kitchen (or depending on how many bottles deep, the living room floor) to trade stories about how busy we are these days. So busy, in fact, that after more than a ‘few’ bottles of wine and cheese boards, we ditch dinner altogether, stopping only for more wine, knowing we’d spend the entire weekend in bed, recuperating, before another gruelling week.

And while the custom of pairing wine and cheese is centuries old, young Australians are embracing the ritual more than ever. According to data revealed by the Australian Cheese and Dairy Society, 18 per cent of people aged 25-35 in NSW alone admitted to indulging in the practice at least once a month – up 50 per cent in the past three years.

But the question of whether to serve a Chablis with Comté or a chenin blanc with chévre (the correct answer is always both, by the way) may be going by the wayside with news that’s likely to send Gladys gaga: foodies across the nation are embracing a new type of ritual – LSD and cheese nights.

The new practice, known as ‘double dropping’, refers to the doubling psychedelic effect of cheese and LSD on the brain. It’s the latest use of the recreational drug that’s being studied for its effects on social interaction and stress relief.

“While the effects of cheese on brain activity has been known for some time, much like the heavily studied effects of LSD in the ‘60s, this is the first time we’ve seen neurological activity on this scale when the two are combined,” says Professor James Larkin from New York’s Adams College of Neurology and Chemical Sciences.

Having seen the rise of what he calls ‘cheese trips’ in his native New York, Professor Larkin been documenting the effects of LSD micro-dosing and its potential benefits.

“On the tip of everyone’s tongue is the overwhelmingly positive response from the wider scientific community in exploring the application to other foods, that share the same chemical characteristics as cheese.”

One recent study carried out by Professor Larkin’s team involved a ‘cheese trip’ trial at a nursing home in upstate New York. Studying the level of neurological activity and social interaction, a group of 20 seniors gathered for weekly cheese trips over the course of one month. The initial results, according to the study, revealed a significant improvement to mood during family visits and the increased ability to use new technology such as iPhones and computers.

“Tab or drop,” Michael says, pouring the last drops of chardonnay into my glass. I opt for a tab wrapped in creamy camembert. Michael, who’s only other ‘skill’ is opening a bottle of wine, expertly tears a tab and encases it in a wedge of the soft cheese imported from Normandy.

The soft rind slowly melts, releasing the rich and buttery texture, and the LSD tab slowly dissolves on my tongue. I’ve never tried LSD before, so I sit and wait for it to kick in. Jessica, meanwhile, who swears by the combination to help combat stress – and the real reason for her unwavering dedication to daily yoga at 5am – delicately adds a drop of the drug onto the last piece of sharp English cheddar before consuming it whole.

Thirty minutes pass and nothing. What ever happened to quality control?

Jessica explains to the group that ‘drops’ should be paired with hard cheese because they’re absorbed faster than tabs which need soft creamy cheeses to melt in – all while talking to the lampshade named Shady who I’m told is not to be trusted.

Another 15 minutes goes by and nothing. Perhaps all those years of eating cheese has made me immune?

After finishing the leftover cheese, I head back to the kitchen in search for more, opening the fridge only to find it shelf after shelf full of cheese.

“Some people just can’t control themselves,” I say out loud as I take a bite from a wheel of camembert.

It’s been a solid 15 minutes since my last wine, I tell myself, so I pour another glass.

The wine and cheese are unbelievable. It feels like tasting cheese for the first time. I take a second, a third, and fourth bite from the wheel. The creaminess of the cheese and the acidity of the Chablis are perfect.

I run to the living room, eager to find out where Michael bought the cheese. Perhaps tonight isn’t a waste afterall.

“That’s not cheese,” he says. “It’s butter, you fool.”

The names and characters in this article have been changed to preserve the identity of those contained within and are completely fictional, just like this story – Happy April Fools!