Claudia Romeo: We're in San
Nicandro Garganico, Italy, and today we're going to see how caciocavallo cheese is made. Caciocavallo is one of
the most popular cheeses here in southern Italy, and it's famous for its elongated shape. What we're going to see today is a special kind of
caciocavallo, the Podolico kind, which is made with the raw
milk of Podolica cattle, a rare breed of cattle
that is able to survive in the harshest conditions
that we can find here. These conditions make their cheese one of the most expensive in Italy, sometimes even more expensive
than the finest of Parmesans. Let's go find out more. The Podolica cows that
make this seaside cheese scatter all over as they roam, making it hard to tell that
you're actually on a farm. Meet Virginio, one of only a handful of producers making the cheese
we're here to learn about. He uses a recipe that his
grandparents taught him, though the most important element of this recipe is location. Here in San Nicandro Garganico, we are only one kilometer from the sea and 100 meters above sea level. This is an important detail,
and we'll soon know why. Claudia: The Podolica produce only 3 to 6 liters of milk a day, which is much less than the 30 liters an average cow might produce. Today we're working with 50 liters. The environment in which the cows feed gives this milk a rich, earthy flavor. The whole cheesemaking
process takes five hours. Virginio heats up the milk to 40 degrees, enough to warm it up
but still keep it raw, which is essential to make
this type of caciocavallo. If the milk were to become too warm, it would scorch and kill
off the unique flavor that the Podolica cows' milk
brings to this special cheese. He then adds rennet and fermented whey from yesterday's production, and after 20 minutes he
starts cutting the curd. He aims for the size of a grain of rice. To do that, he uses this
mushroom-looking tool, which is called menaturo -- a word that, as you may have guessed, comes from the local dialect. Claudia: Rather than
slowly cutting the curd, to make caciocavallo, Virginio energetically slashes through it. This breaks it up into the small pieces he is hoping to achieve. We are used to seeing curd being extracted and then shaped into cheese right away, but here it actually rests further with some of its own warm whey to allow for more concentrated
flavor to develop. Keeping the curd nice and warm will facilitate its fermentation. And while some other cheesemakers
might use a steel vat for this process, here, Virginio uses a maple vat
to ferment the cheese. This also impacts the flavor,
adding notes of acidity that tickle your tongue as you eat. Virginio tells us this
takes about one hour, but because it's winter,
we ended up waiting for three hours instead. [liquid slooshing] The curd is ready to be stretched. Virginio takes out a bit of whey to keep as ferments for tomorrow. He then slices the curd in smaller parts, which will then be kneaded in hot water. In comparison to the
stretched curd of mozzarella, this one will be harder. This is due to the waiting time as well as the size of
the curd when it was cut. Virginio then adds some
hot water to the curd. He will shape it into two cheeses, each weighing 2.5 kilos. This process will be
done completely by hand, so let's get comfortable. He tells me this water is
100 degrees. Yes, Celsius. And judging by the color of his hands and the smoke around us, I don't envy him. Each cheese goes through different shapes before reaching its final one. Virginio has his personal
signature shape, too. When Virginio's happy with
the shape of the caciocavallo, he places it in cold
water to set the shape and stop the fermentation. He then adds a rope
around the cheeses' heads to tie the pair together. Once paired, the two cheeses
move to bathe in brine. The time they spend
here depends on weight. Every kilo needs 24 hours. These two new entries weigh 2.5 kilos, so they'll stay here for 60 hours. And when that time is over, their next destination
is something unexpected. "A cavallo" means "over the hook," hence the name of the cheese. The tree is actually the only time the cheeses will see some sunlight, as the pair will spend the rest of their aging days in caves. The minimum aging is six weeks, and the maximum two years. Today, Virginio has prepared a 6-month-old caciocavallo
for us to taste. A cheese this old is worth $40 a kilo, which translates into
just over $100 a piece.
