If I would have been born in an old world country, I think I would have been very happy. Not that I’m not happy now, but I can imagine myself there–in a middle of nowhere village, twisted trees, sheep, grass. Somebody’s grandmother cooking something with garlic, and homemade red wine being passed around at all times.
There’s always fresh bread and olives and cheese on the table in those fantasies. And it’s never anything prepackaged. It’s bought from the farmer down the road, homegrown and warm from the sun.
That’s what Michael Paterniti imagined when he first came across Paramo de Guzman in a little deli in college. That far off land. Something rich and homemade. Something you don’t find here in the US. It’s an exotic thought. Sure, we can mimic it, but it’s just not the same.
The Telling Room is a story of his journey to find that special cheese, and what went in to making it. There is a lot of love and pain behind the curds.
Man do I want to go to Spain now. I’ll probably never find the tiny village of Guzman, but Paterniti has convinced me to add this amazing food culture to my list, for sure! I absolutely have to seek out these little bodegas where the cheese and wine are stored. I’m always afraid, though, that if I went to a place like this, that I would stay forever. Think I can convince my husband?
Probably not…
As I Lay Reading 