Land of Cheese and Charm

Somewhere in the rolling hills of Italy, where cypress trees sway and sheep roam contentedly under the Tuscan sun, a delicious secret is being crafted, one baaa-rilliant wheel at a time. Pecorino, the beloved sheep’s milk cheese with a bite as bold as its heritage, is more than just a dairy delight. It is a centuries-old love letter from the Italian countryside.

Join me on a journey that begins with a humble pecora (that’s “sheep” in Italian!) and ends with a salty, savory slice of tradition. As the locals say, Piano piano si fa il formaggio (“Slowly, slowly, the cheese is made”). And trust me, every dreamy, creamy bite is worth the wait.

Under the Tuscan Sun: Fattoria Bistecca

Meet Lapo Salvadori and his daughter Ilaria, cheesemakers at Fattoria Bistecca, a sun-drenched farm tucked into the hills of Cortona. Lapo may have made a cameo in the 2003 film Under the Tuscan Sun, but it’s his family’s artisan cheese that’s truly star-worthy. One golden June afternoon, a small group of us had the joy of learning to make three traditional cheeses right on their farm.

Cheese #1: Raviggiolo

We began with a farm tour, complete with hot sun, happy sheep, and the scent of warm milk. Inside the farmhouse, Ilaria gently heated sheep’s milk to 22°C and added rennet—just 0.5 grams per 10 liters (L).

The result was raviggiolo, a silky cheese best eaten within 48 hours. Fresh from the vat, it’s a little sweet and very milky.

Ideally, it’s slathered on Tuscan bread with olive oil and cracked pepper. Yes, please!

Cheese #2: Pecorino

Next came the star of the show: pecorino, literally translated as “of sheep” in Italian. Lapo stirred the raviggiolo, breaking it down into curds. Then came the fishing: scooping warm curd from the whey with our hands, forming hefty balls of cheese dough. Gently, we pressed, pinched, salted, and flipped our way to the first stage of pecorino perfection.

The aging process is part alchemy, part patience: four days of flipping and salting, followed by 25 more days of gentle turning to form a firm crust. At one month, it’s pecorino fresco, fresh pecorino—mild and creamy. Aged longer, it’s brushed with olive oil, sealed with tomato paste or an ashy wood mixture. After six months, it becomes pecorino stagionato, aged pecorino—a sharp, robust cheese that is low in lactose.

Lapo stirs the raviggiolo, starting the process to make pecorino. Photo courtesy of the author.

Cheese #3: Ricotta

We nearly forgot the leftover whey! Reheated, skimmed, and drained, it became ricotta, literally “re-cooked.” While raviggiolo and pecorino are strictly sheep’s milk, ricotta plays the field: sheep, cow, goat, you name it. Sweet or savory, it’s the workhorse of Italian kitchens.

Arrivederci, Pecorino!

As the sun dipped low, we nibbled pecorino and sheep’s-milk desserts, full and happy. Ilaria’s final surprise? If our cheese passed muster, we’d get an email in three months with shipping instructions.

I wait for it still. Not goodbye, but arrivederci (“Until we meet again”). Because when it comes to cheese this good, parting is only temporary.

Lapo gives Maggie some cheese dough to begin the pecorino making process. Photo courtesy of the author.

Field Notes

• In prime milking conditions, sheep on an organic farm produce about 2 L of milk per day. On a non-organic farm where the goal is only to produce milk, sheep may produce up to 5 L of milk per day.
• Sheep’s milk must be heated to about 22°C to form curd.
• The enzyme rennet acts in about 20–25 minutes.
• It takes about 4 L of sheep’s milk to produce a ball of cheese dough for a wheel of pecorino measuring 15 centimeters in diameter and 8 centimeters in height.
• Five liters of whey produce about 500 g of ricotta.

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