Tuscany and Umbria Revisited

 5/22/2024 - Transfer to Parma.

Time to Cut the Cheese!

When I watched Parmigiana Reggiano made from start to finish on a farm 23 years ago, I was amazed at the entire process. 

This time, we visited the Institute Lazzaro Spallanzani, 

On Castelfranco, Emilia, in the Modena Province, an Italian higher education institute where different courses (high school, technical, and professional) are the core curriculum. Some students were pursuing agricultural careers. Others worked in hospitality and cooking. There was no tuition involved. 

Our lovely tour guides.

The process of making Parmigiano Reggiano Cheese begins...

Milk for Parmigiano Reggiano is collected twice daily, evening and morning. Evening milk is poured into special, large vats ("affioratori") so the cream will naturally come up during the night. 

Gigantic mixers encourage the whey, but 23 years later, still no gloves are being worn (at least these two took off their watches). Apparently, the acid in the process cleans their hands and the vats. 

In about 40 minutes, the cheese starts to take shape. It is so heavy that two powerful workers must tie it to a rod to drain the liquid.

Three male students pursuing this career were supposed to use their whispers to explain the next steps in English so we could listen to our whispers despite the machinery's noise. As you can imagine, their monotone, expressionless descriptions were totally dull. And their skinny upper bodies needed to get to the gym if they intended to be successful.

Finally, it was time for the master to cut the cheese (which sparked a barrage of scatological colloquialisms and revealed a side of Martina that impressed me). 

However, as a former English teacher who loves colloquialisms, I was able to suggest another one to add to her vocabulary when I suggested "breaking wind."

And soon, there were two...

Shaping and draining to fit the mold.

Finished Parmigiana Reggiano wheels ready for DOC rating.

After cutting the cheese and breaking wind, we strolled through the school's agricultural area, asking questions of our trusty guides, who were working in the hospitality tract of study. The students had a parmesan and ricotta cheese-tasting ready for us, with white sparkling wine ready for judging.

Parmesan and jam on crackers; yellow plate, 12-month-age Parmesan; orange plate, 24-month-age Parmesan; red plate, 36-month-age Parmesan. They were definitely different tasting, but the 24-month-age Parmesan was the winner.

There were also ricotta with figs in plastic cups was fabulous!

Ciao to our friends at the Institute and onto our next feeding at the acetaia (balsamic vinegar producer). (Sigh, if we must.) We learned the tradition behind the fine, aged condiment produced in the surrounding areas since the Middle Ages and its importance to the people in this region.

"Balsamico" stems from the Latin "balsam-like," meaning having curative powers. We were happy to verify this concept with a tasting of the many varieties of this sweet yet strong staple of Italian cuisine. (And trust me, the US balsamic vinegar we buy in the supermarket did NOT make the cut.) 

As the aging increases, so does the price. We didn't mind, because our favorite choice was the clear, salad balsamic vinegar with the shortest aging in the barrel. It was tart, tasty, and 

delicious.

Our guide for the Villa San Donnino.

(Oak barrels have a thin flap over the hole that can be lifted and closed to allow oxygen in briefly to help age the vinegar.)

I loved this framed display of the vinegar bottles so much 

that I asked if it was available to purchase 

(but I would have had to pay a fortune for these two vinegar bottles).

We transferred from the safety of the barrels to dark skies, mounting cloud cover, and threatening lightning when we took up residence in an open-ended building for our vinegar tasting and lunch. Fortunately, the storm never came while we were eating.