Cheese experts seem to agree that the best time to eat buffalo mozzarella is just hours after it has been made. It should be at that cloud-like phase between solid and liquid; creamy, soft and delicately flavoured without those strong overtones we associate with other cheeses.
I’m a bit of a thug when it comes to enjoying cheese and like them to be as full-on, strong, salty, earthy, and farm-yardesque as you can get.
But this is not what you are looking for when enjoying the light and subtle flavour of this mild cheese.
Ideally you should fly to Naples and hang out in your favourite artisanal shop, waiting for a ball of new-born buffalo mozzarella to arrive in the door, just hours after being made, to enjoy it at its finest, a bit like eating bread on the day it’s made, ideally fresh out of the oven.
When I ask Seamus Sheridan, from Sheridan’s Cheesemongers, what he looks for or how he would eat it, he confirms that you want the very freshest you can get, which is why you should hoof it (sorry) down to the English market in Cork to buy some Toonsbridge buffalo mozzarella, which is made here in Ireland and sold on the Real Olive company stand.
He rates the Toonsbridge stuff highly, and explains that even the mozzarella made in Italy can vary significantly in style. When pushed to confess his favourite way of eating it, he starts to get all misty-eyed and choked up. He then mumbles something about fresh, local tomatoes, just picked sprigs of basil and great, great olive oil.
So, first and foremost, simplest is best for a great Caprese salad. But if you are looking for something a bit more adventurous, then I like both of these dishes, although you might argue that the strong dressing in the crunchy Caprese salad ruinins the delicate flavour of the mozzarella. But for me, the joy of mozzarella is in the texture and I love it here in this salad.
The stuffed chicken is gutsy and ever so tasty. It's a dish that makes you very popular at home. Don't be put off by the anchovies, even if you aren't a fan. I love the lovely brown tinned ones – little slithers of flavour – but hate the silver pickled ones you get in some delis. I didn't tell anyone what was in the stuffing and everyone oohed and aaghed over the flavour, so leave all anchovy haters in blissful ignorance and pile them in.
dkemp@irishtimes.com
