Some things adapt to a changing world, while other things can’t help but stay the same. The art of living seems to be about embracing these two pulls. In ancient medicine, in modern psychology, we seem to know that extremes are merely directions that pull us. In the center we sit, holding onto these tensions, like ropes.
In food there is no exception to the forces of nature and time, and standing in the Whole Foods, amidst the fresh ravioli and the store-brand crostini, I got called into the center of this timeless experience of balancing myself with my surroundings. It started so simply.
“Would you like to try a bit of Parmigiano Reggiano, Ma’am? I just opened the wheel”
Often but not always a fool, I said, “Sure. Why thank you.”
The cheese seller proceeded to explain to me what makes it so special, to eat from this king of cheeses, “It’s softer these first few days.” I smiled and widened my eyes. I was chewing. Of course, Jonathan, the cheese seller was right. Timing is a part of taste.
I was taking it in, and trying not to interject. You see, I have this habit of interrupting. Maybe that’s why I like food so much in social situations since it slows me down. It forces me out of my head and into the moment. It keeps me from saying things like, “Yes, I know.” Nobody likes a know-it-all foodie.
There is a tension inside us to talk and to say things. We want to respond, maybe even feel compelled, but maybe sometimes we want to respond with something more than words, with something like our full attention. It takes pauses. It requires us to verge on being seen as slow. But when we take our time to respond, the moment can become less of a transaction and more of an adventure. I chewed as slowly as possible.
In my mind were images as there often are: a childhood one of suitcases being unpacked with wheels of homemade cheese and spirits appearing, sent from the family in the old country. Then there was the image of my mother, securing her own wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano for my brother’s June wedding, delivering it to the kitchen of the country club in Pennsylvania. They had no supplier. They served it perfectly.
All of that imagery runs through my head as the kindly Jonathan speaks about cheeses from Europe. Still, I keep chewing and nodding, thinking about an import place that will charge me way less than what they charge here for the "parmesan.” Then Jonathan mentions his recent trip to Lombardy to Cologno al Serio outside of Bergamo. He mentions this farm and their water buffalo. My eyes widen again, since isn’t that a thing in the south not the north of the country? It was.
I let Jonathan guide me to this soft rind cheese on the other side of the case. It’s from this farm, Quattro Portoni. I like the name, Four Doors. I think four portals, four winds. I like the look of this soft cheese, this Quadrello di Bufala. It’s all about the fours for these people. It seems promising. I hear, “Tastes like Taleggio…” and I grab the rectangle of Quadrello from his hand. Please, tell. me more.
My cheese seller now shows me his photos. He recently returned from a trip to Lombardy, to the actual farm. Could I be more delighted? I can’t wait to get this home, to softly melt it into a grilled cheese with pears and caramelized onions because that’s how I do grilled cheese when I can. Or I’ll just slice it and eat it immediately. In fact, I have to do exactly that, so I understand what it will do for me. You see, cheese in its best form is not merely an ingredient, but a relationship.
I want to know this cheese, the wrong way, as well as the best way. I want to know what it will do when I open the fridge in despair. I want to know how this food can be my medicine in tiny, strategic, mood-changing doses. After-all, cheese is a little bit of a mood-altering drug, God bless it.
I thank the nice man and begin to rush home. Soon I am running to the computer with freshly toasted bread and a slice from the "Quadrello.” I love a new discovery as much as traditions. I live to learn the emerging stories from the food frontiers. I learn that when the price of cow’s milk kept dipping and getting too volatile for a solid business model, that these farmers decided to switch to having a herd of water buffalo. I dove into the delicious departure from the beloved mozzarella di bufala, to these variations brought on by market necessities. I got lost for a while in how the buffalo arrived in the Med’. Then I almost fell off the chair.
Somewhere between learning the basics of this mild and softly grassy cheese, somewhere between history and reinvention I learned that the water buffalo at Quattro Portoni are milked in silence. Silence.
There is no farmhand blasting house music or maybe heavy metal in the background. There are no careless arguments but maybe a few jokes being told in the vicinity of the milking. There is no lazy distraction only the experience, directed by one of the partners, veterinarian Alfio Gritti. Maybe a gentle wind or a light rain scenting the stalls influences the process. Maybe some crow squawks to its partner. Maybe the wind gets stronger and the buffalo don’t mind at all, but the farmer shivers. I bet someone yells in the distance because, well, Italians.
I am sure there is some noise, but it’s not neglected as a component, as an influence potentially overwhelming to the lactating females. It’s as close as a farm can get to saying, “We provide respect to the miracle that is milk.” It’s as close as a farmer can get to speaking the animal’s language, especially during this process that is most normally meant to feed their young. Silence makes space. It may not directly increase profit. It may not change the taste, but who knows, it might.
Food is a relationship and it takes us forward and back in time. It takes us into the tension between directions just as surely as the sun guiding us from east to west takes us into seasons, and their stories. Space and time provide for migrations that go from north to south and back again. From every direction there is a tension and in every one of these balancing acts there is only one center. That center is not a place or a person, but it can be felt in people and places. At that center there is only silence, only action and being, this thing we call presence.
In an age of fast food and fast attention. In a time of fast-changing conditions and trends, there is this one durable element of being fully with something, someone, in some very particular and singular place: and that is a constant in the best, most durable art. Whether it is in food, prayer or in that thing we call love, presence is the center of excellence. The Quadrello di Bufala has presence.
Quattro Portoni cheese is not cheap, nor is it fast. It might be at your local cheese shop but maybe it’s not. You can ask. If you’re visiting Eataly in New York City, check to see if they have it in stock. If you’ve got a Whole Foods nearby, go there and ask for a taste. If you have a restaurant, visit their site, because they have agents from Kobe, Japan to Ontario, Canada.
I’m not telling you to do this because Quattro Portoni is the only cheese I am eating from now on, but because if it’s convenient to you at this time, you could get your own little taste of tradition meeting innovation, of north mixing with south. You could soothe your nerves with something more than the food and all the words we use to describe it, but from this thread of presence it holds: this creative, foundational thread of silence.
Let’s chew on that.
PS— This is NOT a sponsored post. If I like something, I like it.
Here are some links:
This is the fanciest grilled cheese and it has raisin bread. You can make it with Taleggio or Quadrello.
It’s Super Bowl Sunday this weekend and I am watching for Taylor as much as the game. Food and Wine has you covered with fancy finger food options.
Valentine’s Day is on it’s way, so that means heart-shaped pizzas!
Speaking of the Super Bowl - Delish has a roundup of the top advertisements for this year. From Pringles and Oreos to Bud Light, you want to see these commercials.
♥️ fabulous
"presence is the center of excellence." Indeed! I'll be heading to Whole Foods and getting myself a little bit of this queso, if for no other reason than to feel, if I can "feel" into the silence! How lovely. I appreciate your ability to weave food and the rest of humanity into a wonderful piece of writing.