Emilia-Romagna
Due to the nature of it’s neccessity in our home, it would be a complete understatement to refer to parmesan cheese as a staple. Parmesan is right up there with oxygen and water in essentialness! We eat it like it is going out of style.
Our appointment at Saliceto for a tour of their cheese production factory was brilliantly educational. Here’s a little of what we learned about Parmigiano-Reggiano:
Only 4 specific cows and 1 specific region can produce regulated and authentic Reggiano
There are three grades of parmesan; only the 3rd grade is considered Reggiano; 2nd is “grateable” cheese; 1st is considered “table cheese”.
There is no salt in the initial ingredients. Instead the cheese wheels soaks in a salt bath that both cures the outside of the wheel and adds flavor.
Parmesan cheese remnants are fed to pigs that become prosciutto; closing the cycling on waste.
Parmesan cheese wheels are sound tested by experts. If the drum sounds hollow there’s too much air in the wheel and it cannot be classified as Reggiano.
Parm wheels are stamped early in the stage of production but the stamp is either removed, etched through or given an official DOP stamp depending on its passing of qualification tests. From now on we will always try to examine the information on the rind of our parmesan. The number indicates the production facility. Any scratched rinds are not the finest grade of cheese but can taste close to wonderful.
Parmesan is best served in chiseled chunks that allow the cheee to crumble around the crystals
On route to Florence, we made another stop in Modena. In which, I stood outside of Osteria Frecascana, puppy dog-eyed, hoping someone inside would take pity on me and make space for us in their highly sought after restaurant.
From outside, the street is totally vacant and unassuming. At the front door, I could just imagine the kitchen preparations taking place behind the mint green plastered exterior walls. Inside, I just knew, the life of the kitchen to be humming with anticipation of the dinner rush. I wanted to see it! Better yet— I wanted to taste what three Michelin star was like.
Alas, a girl can dream.
We took a beat at Stradora Cafe. The children sipped hot chocolates. Tempted to another first, I try a Hugo spritz suggested by the bartender of the open-air establishment. The combination of fresh air and consumption of bubbly alcohol as we tread the quiet cobbled streets of the Centro made parting from this new and unexplored little village, peeking into shop windows and twirling down alleyways, quite a romantic gesture. We pushed on to Florence.