This Tastes Like Spring Reggiano
I’ve only been gone for a few days, yet I am having an amazing trip. Through the magic of unsecured wireless I will write about my adventures as I go along. It won’t necessarily be about food, but I have a feeling both food and wine will be involved.
I am sitting in Parma, Italy, not far from Bologna. It has been a cold afternoon, only about 40 degrees, but therein lies the benefit: no tourists. We have just had some wonderful pasta… but I am getting ahead of myself. I’ll start at the beginning.
Since my plane left from San Francisco, it seemed entirely logical that I should finagle a short layover and spend a day up in the wine country, hanging out with a friend of mine in the industry, tasting as many new wines as possible. It was great catching up with some of the wine makers I used to hang out with; it also gave me the opportunity to taste some older vintages that aren’t normally poured.
Leaving Napa, I decided to make one final stop at an Italian restaurant I used to frequent. I hadn’t been there in years, but was welcomed as an old friend and immediately deluged with food (and more wine). When I told them I was heading to Tuscany, they immediately called over their newest waiter to meet me. He had come to the US from Italy only two months ago. We sat and talked for an hour between the lunch and dinner rush and really hit it off. I gave him advice on American women (those who can’t do, teach!), and he gave me lots of tips on getting along in Italy; things I’d forgotten, like the art of reading Italian train schedules. After an hour of conversation, we exchanged phone numbers and parted with my promise to show him Portland if he ever made it up this way.
The flight was long and cramped; 14 hours including the stop to change planes in Frankfurt. I spent the time working on restaurant reviews, sleeping, and staring out the window, contemplating the road ahead. Before I left I had made a determined effort to leave my troubles in the airline terminal, to start this trip with a fresh perspective. As the plane circled Florence and came in to land, I felt free again.
I made it through Italian customs with little difficulty, as my only luggage was a small backpack – my style is to travel light. I powered up my cell phone so I could confirm my reservation in Florence. No sooner had I turned it on, than it rang. A woman asked in broken English, “What clothes is it you are wearing… we can’t find you”. Wow, I thought. I’ve heard a lot about these aggressive Italians, but this is amazing! At the same time two rather striking women tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was Jim’s friend from California. It seems word travels fast.
I didn’t have a chance to say much at all. It crossed my mind that I was being kidnapped, but that seemed okay. They whisked me away to a Fiat, saying “Cancel your plans! We are going to our house outside of Parma.” They want to show me their part of Italy!
I can now tell what time of year a block of Reggiano was started, simply by taste and texture. Well, maybe not every time, but I’m getting good at it. Some are much sweeter or more buttery than others, some slightly sharp. I think this is a fascinating example of terroir, but I’m told that the Italians are trying to standardize it, so the flavors will be consistent; sad. We are near the city of Parma, know for Parmigiano Reggiano and Prosciutto di Parma. The family who kidnapped me from the airport is part of a centuries old heritage maker of cheese. They have a beautiful old facility and have taken me all through the process of making reggiano from start to finish. I spent almost all day in their plant, helping move heavy blocks of cheese from one bath to another as they were being processed and scrubbed. This afternoon we had a great tasting of multiple Parmigiano-Reggiano, matching it with lots of different wines, and of course very old balsamic vinegar – we are after all just outside of Modena, where the world’s finest vinegar is made. I am a huge fan of really good balsamic – known for sipping it right out of the bottle, so to me this is food heaven.


Food Dude



You’re killing me here…
I hate you.
Having to haul around big smelly lumps of cheese and then having it paired with anything younger than a 100 y.o. balsamico sounds like it sucks real bad to be you right now and it’s probably only going to get much worse. You should flee the country immediately before someone refuses to pay the ransom or something and your laptop has a very, very bad accident.