August 2007

Stop reading this and look at your hands. They are the greatest tool in the entire world. Right now, as I clumsily plunk away at my keyboard, my fingers are performing the simplest of tasks imaginable. But think what else hands do. Hands caress and love. They comfort and build. They shape and sculpt. They plant and harvest. Very little human creation takes place without hands.

Hands are behind the foods we sell at Zingerman's Deli. Delicate (but probably calloused) hands, guided by informed masters who make food in small batches, with loving care. Machines can do it faster, but rarely better.

Handmade Fresh Mozzarella
There are hands behind all the food we sell at the Deli, but perhaps no where are they more evident than when it comes to food from Italy. It's August and the tomatoes are ripe, so let's use fresh mozzarella as an example. At the Deli, we make it fresh every morning in true Italian tradition. Mozzarella is a fresh, stretched cheese. It is supposed to be eaten the day it's made. There is no machine, anywhere, that can make better mozzarella balls than my hands. I take about five pounds of fresh cheese curd and cut it into slices, layer them in a large bowl and cover them in hot water. When the water cools a bit, (my fingers are my thermometer) I pour off the water and add a new batch of hotter water. Soon, the cheese has melted into one long string that flows between my fingers as I plunge my hands into the almost scalding water. Without thought, without intent, my hands wrap around the cheese, turning it into itself, and stretching the curd into perfectly shaped balls which I plunk into ice cold water. My aim is for each ball to weigh half a pound. It's a rare day when any ball is more than a few hundredths of a pound off. Hand made, as consistent as a machine, and full of deliciousness.

Our handmade mozzarella balls are creamy and yet, just firm enough to slice for a salad. You might want to top that salad with some of Emmanuele Lolli's Tiburtini olive oil, from just outside Rome. There are giant machines, big enough to enclose an entire olive tree that can shake olives off branches, whether they are ripe or not, bruising them from the force with which they fall. Have you ever dropped an apple off the table and bitten into the mushy brown part that results? Olives, too are sensitive to bruising. Tiburtini olive oil isn't harvested like that. On the front label of the Tiburtini oil is a picture of a little orange rake. These hand-held devices gently "comb" off only the ripest olives as they are run through the laden branches. The olives fall quietly on the nets below and rushed off for fresh pressing. Some of the trees on Emmanuele's land are almost 400 years old. I like to think this gentle harvesting is fitting for something so old. The flavor of the oil is our reward — gentle, well-balanced, and august.

Alongside our Tiburtini olive oil, let your hands be tempted to participate in a first-class taste comparison. We've set up two stations at the deli, each featuring two products from the same producers using the same methods. The only difference is the raw ingredients.

Olio Taibi Biancolilla vs. Olio Taibo Nocellara
The names are black and white. Are the tastes as different? These oils come to us from the most beautiful valley in Sicily, from olives grown in the shadow of ancient Greek ruins. The Taibi family makes both these oils using only organic production and processes them both using the same cold press. The only difference in taste comes from the olive. The Biancolilla is super silky with a hint of citrus and not much pepper. The Nocellara is way more intense and peppery.

Brusc White Moscato Vinegar vs. Brusc Red Dolcetto Vinegar
The Bianco family makes these brisk and complex vinegars using old fashioned oak casks and their own grapes. Most of the grapes are destined for their best wines, but a few are set aside for the vinegar. Piedmont is world famous for its Moscato, and this vinegar is full of the same complex flavors with a sour punch in the end. The Dolcetto isn't as famous but should be. Ruby red in color, a little more mellow than the white.

Hand-sliced Italian Prosciutto di Parma
The meat slicer is one of the main features of any deli. The workhorse of busy days, our Bizerba slicers have sliced tons of salami and corned beef. Yet as much as any good deli should feature its meat slicer, there are some jobs where even more care is needed. Our Prosciutto di Parma is such a product. It's been aged for three years. It was only deemed ready when an Italian Prosciutto master hand-inspected the meat, piercing the flesh in six places to check for proper curing. These hams come to us via Herb Eckhouse in Iowa, whose hams we also carry; a prosciutto expert in his own right. He keeps an eye on them as they hang in his aging rooms further and then finally sends them our way. Aged with the bone-in, we can't slice them on our slicer. Instead, we do it the old-fashioned way, pulling out our old carbon steel knife and diamond honing rod. Each slice is unique as we maneuver the knife around bones, following the grain of each individual leg. The result is the nuttiest, richest meat, sliced the way it should be, with care and passion. A good slice is a source of pride.

Italian Cheeses
Good prosciutto demands good cheese. There are two that particularly pair well. You might start with our Pecorino Toscano. We found a new source for this raw-milk sheep cheese, Il Fiorino. They make small batches of this cheese, only in the spring and summer, when they deem the milk the best. Then, when the cheese has aged for six months they go through their cave and hand-select their best wheels, just for us. I might say this buttery and nutty cheese is the perfect compliment to our Prosciutto if it weren't for another cheese: Piave.

From outside of Venice, Piave is made from the milk of rare Brown Mountain Cows. This disk shaped cheese has always been one of our most popular cheeses. We managed to find a cheese seller who can get us even older wheels and now there is absolutely no reason not to love this cheese. Aged for over a year, Piave is a cheese for novices and experts alike. Distantly related to Asiago, Piave melts, grates, and just plain tastes perfect as a table cheese. Enjoy it with every meal.

Eat this food with your hands. Grab a hunk of our Rustic Italian and dip it in a big pool of golden-green Mont Albo oil, our first oil from Sardegna. Fold some Nostrano salami, crafted by Paul Bertolli up in San Francisco, with your hands and feel the grain of the meat. Squeeze a tomato. Touch your food. Enjoy it.

Jess Piskor
Retail Scribe