Parma: Parmigiano-Reggiano
in my ongoing (read: hopelessly futile) effort to catch up on my blog backlog: a long overdue post about a beautiful spring day last year in Parma with my dear friend Danielle.
. . . .
When I visited Danielle in Piacenza, we had discussed taking an excursion to a nearby city one day to enjoy a gastronomic experience, as we both love good food, and what is better than good Italian food? (I would submit that there is nothing better.) After considering our options (which were many and agonizing to choose between, I assure you), we decided on the tour of a local, family-owned Parmigiano-Reggiano operation (for those curious, we booked our tour through Viator.com and I'd highly recommend it!). We took a train to Parma, met our guide, and the drove us to the fabbrica. After donning hairnets and shoe covers, our guide Giada took us on a private tour and we were able to see every step of the process up close.
before we continue: a brief Italian aside for my linguistic comrades in arms: Allora comunque mi fa sempre ridere capire che in inglese usiamo la parola francese parmesan per dire 'parmigiano-reggiano'—che abominazione! (È anche lo stesso quando parliamo del Rinascimento—sempre il francese—schifoso :)
When we entered the fabbrica, we caught part of the daily cheese production process. Parmigiano-Reggiano is produced only in this region of Italy, according to strict standards, the likes of which I'll get to later on. The photos below depict several stages of the process. Rather than my foggy approximation of the tour I went on a year ago, I'd advise that you go straight to the source—their account of the process is more thorough and poetic, as it were.
On the wooden tables above are the plastic forms in which the rounds are placed. The rounds are labeled with a food-grade pencil and the rounds are tightened, weighted down, and flipped at precise intervals. Cheese crane—compulsory.
The weights atop the cheese rounds continue to condense the cheese and expunge any liquid remaining. The wood tables have gaps in the middle and the tile floors have drains placed strategically throughout, and unsurprisingly, the whole place is outfitted in tile for easy and frequent hosing down.
One of my favorite parts of seeing the production up close was spotting these plastic sleeves which are placed around the cheese rounds early in the process and imprint indents in each round with the name of the producing consorzio, the month and year, the iconic dotted PARMIGIANO-REGGIANO, and other identifying numbers. Because the cheese is marked just on its surface with these indentations, the entire cheese is edible, rind and all. Throughout our tour, Giada emphasized all the qualities and benchmarks that are part of an authentic Parmigiano-Reggiano and it was fascinating. So much of what is marketed as 'parmesan' or 'parmigiano' in the States are only approximations of the true thing. These markings are applied to every cheese, but there are additional inspections which can render these markings NULL & VOID—stay tuned.
In this stage of the process, the cheese is placed in a saltwater brine for a period of time, which is how it gains its salty flavor, a hallmark of Parmigiano-Reggiano. The rounds are rotated, again per a precise schedule, to ensure even salting. Due to the systematic markings, I loved getting a sense of the timeline involved by spotting various months and years as we moved through the tour. The molds in the front were all marked MAR17 for Marzo 2017, and it was very much like stepping into a time capsule filled with cheese as we moved through the ensuing parts of the tour.
aging cheese from Dicembre 2016
SPOILER ALERT: THIS IS MY FAVORITE PART.
Giada explained the quality controls in place which determine whether each wheel of cheese passes the test and is thus declared Parmigiano-Reggiano autentico. One of the tests is to strike a small hammer on the side of a round of cheese (similar to knocking on a wall to determine whether it is hollow or not, as Giada explains at the beginning of this video)—the hollow resonance of the sound signifies whether it has made it through production adhering to all the quality standards which would render it a true Parmigiano-Reggiano. Cheeses that have not passed the test are generally still okay to eat, but they do not have the same characteristics expected of a true Parmigiano-Reggiano, and are marked down and striped as in the photo below, and are sold as a Parmigiano-Reggiano mezzano. More on the cheese markings here.
Parmigiano-Reggiano has an 18-month minimum period of aging—stagionato is the Italian phrase used. Once it has aged for the appropriate duration, the cheese undergoes these aforementioned tests and some is marketed and sold. Other rounds of cheese may be aged for even longer. At the conclusion of our tour, we tasted several different types of Parmigiano-Reggiano: 18-month, 22-month, and 30-month cheeses. It was interesting to note the development of flavors between them, as well as the subtleties of texture. They were all amazing. Generally Italians use 18-month for their everyday cooking needs, reserving 30-month Parmigiano-Reggiano for more precious uses or dishes.
This was undoubtedly one of the highlights of my trip last year—a perfect day with Danielle filled with amazing food and spent deep in the trenches of our beloved Italian language, a fascinating look at one of the best cheeses, and an all-around delight. Having toured the Rockhill Creamery in Richmond, UT several years ago, I loved comparing notes on how their cheeses were distinctive and what parts of the process they shared. Formaggio 4ever.
