Say cheese!

For some years we lived in a small town between Milan and Lake Como. The appearance of snow on the mountain peaks heralded the start of winter – and my goodness, it was cold. Adjacent to our house was a small apartment block with shops on the ground floor, one of which was a tiny artisan mozzarella cheese maker. Every Monday and Thursday morning, at around 7 o’clock a milk tanker would arrive and pump its water buffalo milk into their enormous stainless steel troughs. Rennet and other mysterious ingredients were added, then heat was applied so that curds and whey would appear. The curds were stretched to create the characteristic stringiness of the mozzarella, then balls were shaped and left to float in the whey. When the process was finished a klaxon would sound, usually at about 11.30 am. and from nowhere, customers would appear, mostly ladies and smartly dressed. Some would arrive on bicycles and if it was raining they would hang their handbag on the handlebars, hold an umbrella and pedal in a sedate manner.The cheese would be ladled into a plastic bag with enough whey to keep it moist, a knotted handle created and the cheese would swing from the brake lever as they rode home. What a sight! Yet we never saw any water buffalo grazing – where do they live? Do they live hidden from sight with their diet carefully regulated, like the cows that produce milk for Parmesan? Now that’s another story.