It's amazing what we can do in this country. Good and bad. But how we ever managed to get the green can of "parmesan" cheese out of Parmigiano Reggiano is beyond me. To see Parmigiano - real Parmigiano Reggiano - being made is enough to warm the heart of any cheese lover.
The Consorzio
The Consorzio del Formaggio Parmigiano Reggiano is an association of 482 cheese producers. The Consorzio was founded in 1934, and became a force in Italian cheesemaking after the agricultural reform of 1954. Each cheesemaker is a member of the Consorzio, so in essence the Consorzio works for the cheesemakers. But it is the Consorzio which puts in place the high standards of operation, and runs ongoing tests to make sure those standards are being met. You can see the Consorzio's seal of approval on every wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano. Any wheel that wears the seal has earned it.
The idea of having to protect the identity and integrity of a cheese is a relatively recent one. For centuries what we know as Parmigiano was simply the local cheese. In Parma it was known as Parmigiano, in Reggio "Reggiano", in Lodi, "Lodigiano". When folks in Parma go into a store to buy a couple of pounds of Parmgiano they simply ask for "a kilo of cheese". No need to say which cheese - everyone knows which one they're referring to.
The most impressive thing about the work of the Consorzio is that its standards have kept production of Parmigiano small, yet economically viable. The average Parmigiano dairy makes a grand total of eight wheels of cheese a day! Even at sixty pounds a wheel, that's no more than 500 pounds of cheese. To grasp just how unusual this is, take note that a large American cheese factory can make thousands of pounds in an hour! Five hundred pounds a day puts this average dairy at about the same level of production as the smallest of American cheesemaking farms. And yet from this small scale of production the Consorzio has fashioned a successful industry and produces what I think is the world's greatest cheese. Bigger is not always better.
Visiting the Dairy
Back in November I visited Caseificio Rastelli Fratelli, a small cooperative in the hills outside of Parma. A bit smaller than average, they made only five wheels of cheese the day I was there. In spring and summer, when milk production is at its peak, they work their way up to six. This is a medium sized dairy in Parma, in this case a cooperative, owned by the local dairy farmers. The cooperative employs a pair of cheesemakers - the same chaps have been making cheese there for decades. As is traditional in the area, the cheesemakers live in apartments above the dairy. Cheese is made seven days a week all the year round - not exactly a glamorous job. Every time I eat a small piece of Parmigiano I give thanks that guys like this get up early each morning to make cheese. Cheese this good will never be made by machines alone.
Watching the cheesemakers at work it's clear that they've been at this a long time. They talk away right through the making, yet it's obvious that no detail escapes their attention. You can tell that they've got their finger on the pulse of the cheese from the minute the milk truck arrives to the time the cheese leaves the vat. They work with the practiced and calm skill of a veteran midwife, who's delivered thousands of babies successfully, yet still marvels at the miracle of each new arrival.
Countless hours with their hands in the milk and the curd leave their mark. They have the big fingers and rough red hands that are common to cheesemakers everywhere. These guys love their cheese. They love to talk about it. To eat it, and smell it, and touch it. Their faces show the years they've spent working in the dairy. But their eyes lit up with new energy every time I asked a question. There was an energy there which comes from the heart, from a love of one's craft, that no amount of money or high tech equipment can replace.
The Milk
Twice a day, fresh milk is delivered to the dairy directly from the local farms. The milk arrives just as it leaves the cows. No pasteurization, or other processing is allowed. This means that the quality of the milk has got to be very, very high. The milk arrives at the dairy on small open backed trucks loaded up with shiny milk cans, much like the ones you find in drawings of turn of the century America. The cans are carried and poured into the vats by hand - the Consorzio prohibits any pumping of the milk in order to protect its delicate nature.
(With all their stainless steel pipes and shiny tanker trucks you might think that the milk quality in large American factories would be much higher than that of the small farms in the Parma hills. But if you did, you'd be wrong. While the pipes glisten, the milk is less than a shining example of quality. Large dairy farms can get away with much higher bacterial counts than these tiny Parma dairies. because all the milk they deliver is pasteurized then blended with milk from other farms. There is little reward for producing exceptional milk in the mass market.)
Shiny Copper Kettles
The kettles are the first thing you notice when you step into a Parmigiano dairy. The Consorzio requires the use of copper kettles. (I was told that they are used only for their thermal properties and have no impact on the flavor of the cheese. But I've talked to many Swiss cheesemakers - who also use copper kettles - who are adamant that the copper leaves trace elements in the cheese which contribute to its final flavor. And there's no reason to believe that things would be any different with Parmigiano.) This caseificio had three kettles, set into the floor in a line, each about two feet from the next. Their polished copper sides shone brightly in what was otherwise a fairly drab concrete, tile and steel room. Like upside down cones, with rounded, parabola shaped bottoms., the bottom third of each kettle sets below the actual floor level. In the old days the kettles were heated by wood fires. Today, in one of the few concessions to modernity, gas fired steam is used to raise the temperature of the milk.
Making the Cheese
Production of Parmigiano Reggiano takes place today pretty much as it has for centuries. The milk is heated, natural rennet is added to separate the curd from the whey. After the curd has a chance to set up, the cheesemaker "cuts" into small pieces. The more the curd is broken up, the more the whey is separated. When the curd reaches the proper level of firmness, the cheesemaker slides into a large white cheesecloth. At this point the cheese looks something like a large ball of fresh white mozzarella. The new cheeses are removed from the kettles. Still dripping of whey, they are slid into plastic molds and allowed to drain and rest overnight. The next morning the cheeses are transferred to lighter weight molds, stenciled all round with the words "Parmigiano Reggiano" in pin dots running up and down it's side.
After a few days "rest" the young "parmigiani" are moved down to the cellar under the dairy. There they are placed into baths of salt brine. Because the young cheeses are saltless, they float, bobbing in the brine like a flock of orderly rubber ducks at a carnival booth. The cheeses are turned regularly. "Rolled" is actually more appropriate since they are suspended on their sides in the brine. The brining works by process of osmosis (the same process my mother used to tell me would never get me by in my schoolwork.). The salt in the brine naturally pulls moisture out of the young cheeses, and in its place the brine in the vats enters the curd. This is the only salt that is added to the cheese.
From the brine baths the cheeses go up to the storage room. This was, far and away, my favorite part of the dairy. When I walked in I felt like Aladdin discovering the treasure cave of Ali Baba. Everywhere I looked there was Parmigiano Reggiano! Pine shelves stretch from one end of the room to the other, each with its complement of twenty something Parmigiano. The shelves run fifteen high, which means that this dairy had to have nigh on about 3000 cheeses in stock, probably over $1,000,000 worth of cheese in inventory! Cheese after cheese, its golden brown rind glistening as the natural fats of the cheese come to the surface. To a cheese lover like me, it was a pretty amazing sight to behold.
When the cheeses enter the aging room they have a blank, six inch wide oval on their sides. This is where they will be stamped with the seal of the Consorzio if the inspectors give them the thumbs up. Each cheese is checked by tapping it with a small hammer, much as pediatricians used to check children's reflexes by tapping their knees. The inspector hammers, listens, hammers again, all the way around the cheese. A well made cheese will have a consistent ring to it. A cheese with faults or gaps in its body will meet the hammer blows with a hollow sound. Now and again, the inspector will actually probe a cheese with a thin file, which removes a tiny sample of the cheese from inside the rind. A quick sniff of the sample will reveal much about the flavor and character of the cheese. Any fault in the cheese will be immediately noticeable to the trained nose. If a cheese passes its boards, it is rewarded by being branded with (the Parmigiano version of the Good Housekeeping seal of approval)Consorzio seal of approval.
Flavor
Cheeses are endlessly compared and analyzed, looking for desirable characteristics. The locals look for cheese which is 'dolce'; sweet, delicate and mild. Everyone associated with the cheese was adamant on this point. The best Parmigiano Reggiano is sweet and mellow. It should always complement, never overwhelm. The aroma should reflect the flavor - also sweet and delicate, never strong.
There are cheeses in the aging rooms that are three, even four, years old. Personally I like the intensity of a lot of these cheeses. The flavors are concentrated, mouth filling. But to the Parmigiani the age of the cheese seems to be relatively unimportant. The flavor is what they're worried about. And the flavor should be sweet and mellow.
The Crystals
One of the magical things about biting into a piece of good Parmigiano Reggiano is the feel of the tiny sharp crystals crunching on your tongue. Many folks mistakenly take these to be salt crystals, but they aren't. During the aging, free amino acids in the cheese are naturally converted into this new crystalline structure. A well made and well aged wheel of Parmgiano will always have these crystals. Don't leave home without them.
The Character
The great thing about the work of the Consorzio is that even a less than fantastic cheese is still likely to be pretty darned good. The beauty of the system to me is that it has effectively set a lowest common denominator for Parmgiano Reggiano which is still very, very high. Yet at the same time it leaves room for the skilled and committed cheesemakers to produce exceptional cheese. The funny thing is that if you went to a large American factory and charted the variability in Parmigiano they would find that much variation unacceptable. Sadly, our efforts to gain consistency have been successful, but at the expense of flavor and character.
Eating Parmigiano Reggiano
In Emiglia-Romagna they eat a lot of Parmigiano Reggiano. The highest per capita consumption in the world is in the home district, and the rest of us are unlikely to ever catch up. The average purchase of "cheese" in Parma seemed to be about a kilo or more! Everyone uses it. And because every home serves pasta (or perhaps risotto) every single day, there is plenty of call for it.
Of course, Parmigiano Reggiano isn't just for cooking. To me the best way to enjoy it is to simply to eat it as is. There is no better cheese after dinner - its rich sweet nutty flavor is the perfect way to segue from the main course into the dessert. Of if you're not in the mood or the mode for dessert, Parmigiano is a great way to end the meal.
Heavenly Intervention
Lest you think that the quality of Parmigiano is all just a matter of skill, take note that the patron saint of the cheesemakers is San Lucio. And at the dairy I visited a large wooden crucifix hung over the work table. A good cheesemaker makes sure he's lined up enough support.
It is an accepted principle of good management that people who care, who believe they make a difference are the key to quality production. And everything I saw that had to do with Parmigiano Reggiano reenforced that principle. What stood out to me above all else in my visit was the consistently high commitment to quality, the love and care for the cheese that shown through in the work and attitude of everyone I dealt with. Cheesemakers, cheesesellers, the Consorzio, distributors, everyone I worked with showed an incredibly high level of interest in the cheese. They seemed fascinated with variations in flavor and character, true believers, committed to the cause of Parmigiano Reggiano. They seem to work with the confidence that they are a part of something special, that their work makes a difference, that the Parmigiano Reggiano they make is enjoyed by cheese lovers round the world. They're right. It is. They improve the quality of life in the world by crafting a spectacularly delicious cheese. I owe them one.