One Love
If your mother ever told you that you’d meet The One as soon as you stopped looking for him, she was right. It happened to me.
I was in a small grocery store on the Amalfi Coast at the end of a hot and sticky June. I had my nose in a refrigerated case where there were hunks of cheese, containers of yogurt and bottles of milk.
“What do you need?” a man’s voice asked with a syrupy, seductive Italian accent. I’d noticed him when I walked in: thick black hair, radiant blue eyes, a muscular frame and a naughty smile.
Parmigiano, I told him, without looking away.
I heard the man leave his post from behind the cash register, then his light breathing as he peered down over my left shoulder. “Here,” he said gently, choosing a wedge of white cheese and putting it in my hand. “This will work.”
That’s how I met my One: the
one and only cheese I could never part with. Grana Padano, I take you, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.
To understand the significance of this declaration you have to understand that I love cheese. I mean: I. Love. Cheese. Bring me to a cheese shop and put me in front of the display case, I will be happy to stand there with my nose pressed against the glass, reading the descriptions of origin and taste, imagining what a piece of each might taste like as it melted into creaminess on my tongue. With an imagination like mine, this is nearly as pleasurable as the act of eating.
Yet, if it came down to it, and I could afford to have only one cheese in my refrigerator, I would give up my triple cream, my goat cheese and, sigh, my artisan reserve manchego for the humble Grana Padano.
It’s true; Grana may not know how to tango or how to play a Chopin concerto. But it’s satisfying, dependable and comforting. It will never let you down. After all, let's be real: Even though we all fantasize about being with a mysterious, spontaneous romantic One, the One we end up with for life is usually a sturdy Grana Padano.
Grana has the dry, hard flaky texture of really good Parmigiano-Reggiano but with a lower tone of sweetness. Grana’s taste is a little earthier, a little nuttier. With each bite you are reminded that this food is made from the milk of grass-grazing cows. It yields to the teeth with several crystalline pops and then dissolves into a creamy, slightly tangy, coating on the tongue.
Grana Padano is a staple in many Italian homes. It was created by 12th-century monks living on the Paduan Plain, a wild stretch of the Po Valley in Lower Lombardy that they tilled and tamed. Today its production is controlled and protected. So when you go to purchase the cheese look for stickers that say “Denominazione di Origine Protetta” (Protected Des- ignation of Origin, D.O.P.) or “Indicazione Geografica Protetta” (Protected Geo- graphical Indication, I.G.P), which authenticate its production.
Grana Padano is a good substitute – often, I think, a better substitute – for Parmigiano. It can be grated over pasta and into soups and sauces. But my favorite way to eat it is as a simple snack with sweet slices of juicy pear. I also use the combination in my go-to appetizer for every occasion: slices of Grana melted over a thin crostini and topped with roasted pears and a heavy sprinkling of freshly ground pepper. It’s sophisticated simplicity.
My source for Grana Padano Stravecchio (meaning Grana that has aged 15-20 months) is Tutto Italiano, a Citarella outpost in East Hampton. The first time I visited the shop I found myself once again with my nose in a refrigerator case. This time Pasquale, a native Neapolitan, came to assist me. I showed him a wedge of Grana and told him I had found what I was looking for. His eyes lit up and he pulled me over to the fresh fruit aisle.
“I have all these people who come in and ask me what they can do with this,” he said, holding my wedge of cheese. “I tell them all you need is a few pears and a bottle of wine.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell Pasquale that I’d already discovered this perfect pairing. His passion for Grana Padano was a mirror to my own, and I let him gush until his heart was content.
Crostini with Grana Padano and Roasted Pears
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
Slice each pear vertically against the core into four large pieces. Slice each piece vertically again, this time into quarter-inch slices. Place the slices in a single layer on a greased baking sheet and roast until soft and the bottoms are caramelized, about 15 minutes. Do not move them while they roast to ensure that they caramelize properly.
Meanwhile, cut the bread into 24 quarter-inch slices and lay them on another baking sheet. Then cut enough thin slices of Grana Padano to cover the surface of each crostini.
When the pears are done, cool them enough to handle. Assemble the crostini by topping each slice of bread first with cheese and then two pears in an X pattern. Broil the crostini on low until the cheese is melted and bubbling. Serve them immediately with a generous grinding of fresh pepper.


mmmmm...ccchhhheeeezzzzeeee....
Posted by: Philly | April 19, 2007 at 10:04 AM
...never really thought of using a cheese like that as a meal itself... rather than just a sprinkle here and there on my pasta.... learn something everday... shows how cultured i am
Posted by: Bob | April 19, 2007 at 07:43 PM
Yum. I was at Banfi vineyards in Tuscany last summer, about to sit down to a five course meal and wine tasting, when I first tasted the amazing GP. They offered us generous amounts of this incredible cheese with a sparkling white starter wine, to get our palates going...
We were tempted to skip the main meal and sit there all afternoon eating Grana Padano :)
Pure bliss, but minus the pears -- I'll have to try that next...
Can you suggest a good place to get it in NYC?
Posted by: Kelly | May 05, 2007 at 10:36 PM
Hi Kelly, thanks for sharing that lovely memory. I imagine I would have been tempted to linger over the Grana Padano too! Usually you can get GP at Buon Italia in Chelsea Market. If you go, make sure to stop for an espresso. ;)
Posted by: NICOLE COTRONEO | May 06, 2007 at 12:44 AM
Damn it! I was all set with the menu for tomorrow's dinner party and then I had to come to your blog and read this. Crap, now I MUST redesign my menu around this recipe. Maybe top with crumbled crispy fried Proscuitto?
Posted by: Steamy Kitchen | May 10, 2007 at 11:05 PM
NOW we're talking, Steamy. You just put it over the top!
Posted by: NICOLE COTRONEO | May 10, 2007 at 11:14 PM