Birth of a Cheese

Witnessing the miracle of formaggio in the Italian Alps

Giovanni Fiori at the Bra cheese festival

Remo fits the curds into their mold

Whether you’re a seasoned pro who’s watched cheesemaking countless times in different settings or a true novice, the chance to see it done by hand over an open fire in a big copper kettle full of piping hot whey and unseen suspended curds--the way it’s been done for thousands of years--is truly an unforgettable sight. If you've never fully understood how cheesemaking works, witnessing that magical moment of formation (formaggio) is the only explanation you’ll ever need. For cheese fans it’s a quasi-religious experience.

This particular alpine demo was arranged by Giovanni Fiori, who along with his brother Davide represents the fifth generation to run their family firm, Luigi Guffanti 1876, which is Italy’s premier affineur (“stagionatore” in Italian), the country’s equivalent to Britain’s Neal’s Yard Dairy. Anna Juhl, founder and proprietor of Cheese Journeys, had hired me to work with her on a Northern Italy trip, complete with attendance at the international festival Cheese, held in Bra, Piedmont, every other year, and of course a visit to Guffanti’s headquarters and aging caves in Arona, on the shores of Lago Maggiore. For more on their operation go to https://www.guffantiformaggi.com/en/

The Fiori brothers were instrumental in restoring and reviving the ancient Latteria Turnaria in Oira, a village of stone houses about 45 miles north of Arona. The Ossola Valley juts north into Switzerland and is surrounded by gorgeous alpine cheese terroir, with the French-speaking Canton Valais to the west and the Italian-speaking Canton Ticino to the east.

Giovanni Fiori greeted us, overflowing with good cheer as usual, and quickly ushered up a flight of stone steps and into the cheesemaking room where he introduced us to one of his veteran cheesemakers, Remo. During the summer, Remo still works at an alpine creamery further up the valley, located at 6,500 feet, a two-hour trip by car followed by a half-hour hike on foot.

Watching Remo’s effort and focus left us brimming with respect for this 82-year-old artisan who told us he’d been making cheese since he was a teenager. He starts by stoking a glowing hard-wood fire in the cheesemaking room’s large fireplace. He fills the copper kettle with about 100 liters of milk, then swings it over the fire to warm it up. (The kettle hangs from a hinged wooden arm.) He swings the kettle back off the fire, adds the rennet and waits until the milk has curdled to a custard-like consistency. When his stubby wooden shovel--one of several purposefully handmade tools he uses—can stand up in the curds on its own, they’re ready to cut.

Remo starts to cut the curds with that same shovel. Then he cooks them some more and cuts them with another specialized tool--this one like half a broom handle with a section of thick metal wire woven around it. Next, he rolls up his sleeves, bends over and, submerging his arms in the 100-degree whey, patiently starts to gather and form the curds. It’s like some careful alchemistic ritual. You catch tantalizing glimpses of the soon-to-be cheese and, after about five minutes, Remo hefts a curd blob roughly 20 inches across and weighing about 10 kilos (22 pounds), which he divides in two with a wire cutter.

The two curd masses are then lifted into wooden hoops lined with cheese cloth that sit on a carved stone drainage table. Remo presses the cheeses down and they continue to expel whey, which trickles into a bucket. He tightens the ropes around the hoops, then pours the bucket of whey back into the kettle. He stokes the fire again and swivels the kettle back over it to start making ricotta.

Remo presses the cheeses on the drainage table by placing 20-kilo carved stone weights on top of each. Meanwhile, the fire emits wisps of smoke and Remo scoops out a small handful of squeaky ricotta curds for us to taste.  “Ricotta” means recooked and, again, if you never fully understood why, now you do--once and forever. Reheating the whey allows the cheesemaker a second chance to capture undissolved milk solids and make another type of cheese from them. Mild, fresh ricottas are good for a quick snack or appetizer but are more often used as cooking ingredietns in lasagna, ravioli and cannelloni as well as pizza, desserts and other dishes.

Giovanni pipes up in his charmingly accented English, explaining, “This is formaggio in the most ancient sense of the word--the birth and formation of a cheese. And you see, the smoke there, it gives the ricotta a nice slightly smoky flavor, which is also very traditional.” Later, we visited Guffanti’s aging caves under their office and shop in Arona and tried some aged alpine ricottas that looked like bluish green cannonballs and offered delicious salty, savory, smoky flavors like no other ricotta I’ve ever tried.