A Taste of Tradition

“Before we are balsamic vinegar sellers, we are makers. Before we are makers, we are farmers. Before we are farmers, we are the Modenese people.” A young woman stood on the grounds of a vineyard that had been in her family for generations to deliver this message. She was speaking for her family, for her city, and for her country, as she attempted to make clear to us the intense emotion and identity rooted in Italian food traditions and, more importantly, their maintenance.

We have explored the delights of Italian gelato and coffee in previous blogs, but in the time that my favorite gelateria could churn out thousands of scoops, or my favorite coffee shop pour tens of thousands of espresso beverages, other food producers in Italy await patiently the aged perfection of their time- and labor-intensive creations. Last weekend I had the privilege to step behind the curtain into the mesmerizing array of sights, smells, and sounds that go into preparing some of central/northern Italy’s most prized eats, including Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, balsamic vinegar, and prosciutto di Parma. 

Leno, an older gentleman with a high voice and unbridled enthusiasm, patiently took us through the process of making Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese in his facility in Modena. He answered every question and obliged every photo opportunity, from his cows across the street to the copper-coated vats of curdled milk, from the salt baths studded with floating cheese to the racks of cellar storage. Leno and his team contribute only about 10 large wheels per day to the 3.5 million wheels of Parmigiano-Reggiano produced each year. This is the only cheese in the world that must be inspected by piece rather than lot. Tapping the wheel with a small hammer and listening to the vibrations indicates whether there are air bubbles present, a defect not worthy of the name of Parmigiano-Reggiano. The wheels they molded the day of our visit may not be consumed until 2020 or even later: Parmigiano-Reggiano must be aged at least one year, but the 36-month variety was favored in our on-site tasting (three ages of cheese paired with sparkling red Lambrusco wine at 9 AM is my kind of breakfast).

It is difficult to improve upon the rich, nutty flavors of Parmigiano-Reggiano, but I (and the people of Modena) recommend a drizzle of high quality balsamic vinegar. Federica, the vibrant young woman I described above, took us through tiny hallways and zig-zagging staircases, showcasing barrel after barrel of balsamic vinegar, aged up to 150 years (pictured left). This vinegar came from grapes grown in 1867, all the more impressive when you consider that Italy only became a unified country in 1861, and that Purdue University was founded in 1869. The rows of barrels, from which vinegar is transferred each year to create a blend of ages and wood flavors, are known as batterias, and stand with the elegance of marching soldiers. Two world wars after this 150-year-old balsamic began its journey, the syrupy sweet balsamic drips like molasses. Federica poured some into a small glass vial and held it to the light, showing the red, yellow, and orange hues emerging from the deep brown color. “This is a balsamic rainbow.”

Our final stop was Parma, where sweet and exuberant Claudio described the process of aging world-famous prosciutto (pictured below). He checked how the meat was progressing by stabbing it with a piece of horse bone and smelling the aromas.

What did Federica, Leno, and Claudio have in common? Passion. Drive. Joy in creating something delicious. And sadness. Across all these food products, the industry is shifting; fewer production facilities are able to produce in even greater quantities than in previous decades. Claudio blamed it on lack of interest in jobs not based in technology, joking that if they found a way to make prosciutto through a cell phone, more young people would be interested. Instead of keeping these beautiful traditions in the family, small farms and production facilities must surrender to larger industrial competitors. And do their products taste as good? I cannot say. But I do know that connecting a face – the face of Leno, of Federica, of Claudio – to the craftsmanship of quality food products made them all the more delicious.

This post was written by Sydney Rivera, a Master of Public Health 4+1 student from Indianapolis, Indiana. Her research interests include contraception, pregnancy, and patient-provider relationships, as she intends to go to medical school to become an OB-GYN.