Ode to Mozzarella

Caitlin Miller  

So let’s get this cheese column started right – with a brief ode to mozzarella. Ah, mozzarella. Just how long has mankind been infatuated with this lavish little cheese? Since the twelfth century, when the making of cheese from the milk of water buffalos was first recorded in southern Italy. Historians generally acknowledge the discovery of mozzarella as the most important event of the Middle Ages, its impact greater than the Crusades, the invention of the printing press, and the Black Death combined. On the seventh day God did not rest; he created the water buffalo so humanity could have mozzarella.

When was the last time you ate a salad starring cheddar cheese? Never, because no one in human history has gazed at a piece of cheddar and asked, “Can I lay a slice of tomato in that heavenly blanket?” A thick cut of mozzarella that is delicious beyond all reason, on the other hand, is like a tractor beam for tomatoes. Add a drizzle of olive oil, some freshly torn basil, maybe a pinch of sea salt, and brace yourself because caprese hangovers are real and not to be fucked with. If avocado and/or olive tapenade should find their way into this mix, however, go ahead and abandon all hope of resistance. As you dive headfirst into that perfect combination of flavors (literally, you will physically dive), just remind yourself that there is no shame in blacking out in the fetal position on your bedroom floor in a mozzarella-induced food coma. It’s happened to the best of us, guys, and it’s ALWAYS worth it. “I’m absolutely devastated I ate all that mozzarella and avocado last night,” said no one ever. Seriously.

But mozzarella isn’t smug about being the greatest cheese in the world – in the wise words of a friend, it’s “humble as fuck.” And luckily for all of us, the mozzarella cult is especially alive in Ann Arbor, with institutions like Zingerman’s whipping up fresh batches of milky, elastic goodness on the daily. Grab a friend, some balsamic, a baguette, and find yourself a grassy spot to call home for the afternoon (if your mozzarella addiction is as full-blown as mine, baguette and balsamic are optional). Because whether it’s a small round, a large ball, or a freaking loaf, mozzarella is king and the rest are his lowly servants. Mozzarella is preternaturally flavorful, inexplicably juicy, and endlessly sophisticated; it is omniscient, omnipotent, and benevolent; in a word, it is flawless.