The Art of Parmesan

No matter where I've lived, there is always a hunk of parmesan cheese in my fridge.  Grated in salads or on top of last minute bruschetta, blended into cheese sauce, simmering the rinds in homemade soup for added richness, used in homemade pesto with basil from my summer herb garden - it adds the last perfect element to almost everything.  But the price in Canada would always make me cringe, and admittedly, I've often bought less authentic versions, often without knowing.  No longer.

Here in Bra, Parmigiano-Reggiano is ubiquitous.  No cheese plate is complete without a 36 month aged wedge of nutty, salty, creamy goodness.  It graces almost every table and every dish, and the nuances of the different ages is discernible even in a simple risotto.  And while life in Italy tends more to the expensive side, eating well does not.  Every time I enter Giolitti's shop, I get a little giddy at the range of cheeses and the more affordable prices.  Especially when you get the grand tour of his cave and the five year old Parmigiano wheels...

So I figured the one spectacularly difficult early morning we faced on stage would be worth the serious lack of coffee in order to see Parmigiano in production.  And believe me, it is quite a production.  Just examine the world-wide reach and influence of the over-seeing body, the Consortium of Parmigiano-Reggiano.  After all, they are one of the official sponsors and suppliers for the Italian Olympic team.

Authentic Parmigiano-Reggiano is made every morning using partially skimmed milk from the previous night's milking and full-fat milk from that morning.  The milk is kept warm and mixed carefully with specific tools in massive copper vats with rennet and whey added. 

Once deemed ready, the more solid masses of cheese are scooped out of the vats, split into two and wrapped in cheese cloth.  They're tied onto a long stick balanced on top of the vat, hobo style. 

Once they've drained, they're rinsed quickly and placed into round moulds, still steaming.  45-55 kilograms each of pure goodness.

After a short time hardening in the cool cellar, they're labeled with the date placed in large troughs. 

Sea salt is gradually added, dissolving in the water and creating a briny solution that they soak in for several months. 

And then, they slumber.  After 9-12 months, each wheel is tested.  If it meets the requirements, quality markings are added onto the sides.  As for the stencil markings on the side that mark a proper Parmigiano-Reggiano, each producer is assigned a number that is stenciled, along with the name of the cheese. 

If the cheese isn't found to be of utmost quality, the markings are scored. 

And then the wheels age some more in large cool cellars or warehouses, although typically not longer than 36 months.  The "caves" have a distinct aroma - slightly savoury with a hint of boiled cream.  And everywhere you look, Parmigiano wheels tower above like old growth trees.  Mmmm, edible trees . . .

  





Unfortunately, Canadian intellectual property laws differ substantially from the EU.  Parmigiano-Reggiano is a trademarked term - in other words, it refers to a style of cheese made in a particular way.  There are no actual ties to this long history of production or location, and what the cows eat - which directly impacts the flavours of the milk - are not regulated.  So when you buy your parmigiano at the supermarket, you are buying an imitation of the real thing.  Next time you reach for your parmesan, read the label.  And if you're planning for a special occasion, whether it's an anniversary dinner or Wednesday morning breakfast, seek out the real thing - trust me, it's worth tapping into centuries of experience, skill and knowledge.  Your taste buds - and some far away, hard-working producers - will thank you.