conquer the parm!
I cut my third wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano (Parmesan) today, all by myself. Pocketed the little metallic badge to prove it!
For the uninitiated to the world of cheese, Parmigiano Reggiano, from which we get the true Italian Parmesan, comes in very large, very heavy wheels. The wheel weighs between 66 to 88 pounds, with a rock hard rind. Each imported wheel has a little metallic badge with the brand name, and maker's name and the assurance that it is imported from Italy. This badge is buried into the rind, and only comes off when you begin to cut the cheese. The common cheesemonger's custom is to keep the badge for each wheel of Parm that you cut. It serves as a small badge of honor, due of the notorious difficulty of cutting the Parm. You have to use three different knives - one wickedly hooked blade to score the rind so that you can insert the other blades into the cheese; three wedge knives, to insert, wiggle back and forth, and create an opening; and one long, double-edged blade to make sure the cheese separates and can be pried apart. This also takes a good deal of arm strength - Parm has a solid, firm paste on the inside, almost as hard as the rind on the outside. You cut it into halves, then quarters, then eighths before cutting actual pieces.
It generally takes me two to three hours to cut a whole wheel, and I'm exhausted by the end of it. And then you still have to clean up the crumbs and the oil it leaves on the counter. But it is also irresistibly fun. Those of you who have grated Parmesan surely know what I mean - the heady, sweet perfume of fresh cut, or fresh grated, Parm is a scent that ought to be bottled and sold as an air freshener. Nothing smells quite so heavenly, nor so earthy. And if you take a tiny flake of that freshly exposed paste, visible to the air for the first time in two years, it is spicy, nutty, sweet, and salty in a perfect mix of flavor. No wonder the Roman army conquered the ancient world with this fueling them.
I'm thinking of turning one of the little metallic badges into a button for my hat at work. It'd be nice to have on there as an accessory or a re-assuring little token.
Tomorrow is my Friday - blissful, sweet Wednesday-that-is-also-a-Friday. How shall I celebrate my sweet freedom?
For the uninitiated to the world of cheese, Parmigiano Reggiano, from which we get the true Italian Parmesan, comes in very large, very heavy wheels. The wheel weighs between 66 to 88 pounds, with a rock hard rind. Each imported wheel has a little metallic badge with the brand name, and maker's name and the assurance that it is imported from Italy. This badge is buried into the rind, and only comes off when you begin to cut the cheese. The common cheesemonger's custom is to keep the badge for each wheel of Parm that you cut. It serves as a small badge of honor, due of the notorious difficulty of cutting the Parm. You have to use three different knives - one wickedly hooked blade to score the rind so that you can insert the other blades into the cheese; three wedge knives, to insert, wiggle back and forth, and create an opening; and one long, double-edged blade to make sure the cheese separates and can be pried apart. This also takes a good deal of arm strength - Parm has a solid, firm paste on the inside, almost as hard as the rind on the outside. You cut it into halves, then quarters, then eighths before cutting actual pieces.
It generally takes me two to three hours to cut a whole wheel, and I'm exhausted by the end of it. And then you still have to clean up the crumbs and the oil it leaves on the counter. But it is also irresistibly fun. Those of you who have grated Parmesan surely know what I mean - the heady, sweet perfume of fresh cut, or fresh grated, Parm is a scent that ought to be bottled and sold as an air freshener. Nothing smells quite so heavenly, nor so earthy. And if you take a tiny flake of that freshly exposed paste, visible to the air for the first time in two years, it is spicy, nutty, sweet, and salty in a perfect mix of flavor. No wonder the Roman army conquered the ancient world with this fueling them.
I'm thinking of turning one of the little metallic badges into a button for my hat at work. It'd be nice to have on there as an accessory or a re-assuring little token.
Tomorrow is my Friday - blissful, sweet Wednesday-that-is-also-a-Friday. How shall I celebrate my sweet freedom?