“When I was 26 years old,” writes Michelle Wildgen in O, the Oprah Magazine, “I got married, moved to Yonkers, New York, and tasted devastatingly fresh mozzarella for the first time. The cheese remains the most vivid memory of the three.”
I was sold. My life was ready for devastatingly fresh mozzarella. On, to Arthur Avenue!
After visiting the Holiday train show at The New York Botanical Garden, Tammy and I skirted around Fordham University to Arthur Ave, known as the ‘authentic’ Little Italy in NYC. Our first stop was Wildgen’s mecca, Casa Della Mozzarella (the name rolls off your tongue like an Italian song!). We grabbed a number, squirmed to the back of the narrow bustling store, and asked the lovely Marco for a small tub of salted mozzarella. As we waited to pay, we arched over the counter, trying to catch a glimpse of the magic mozzarella making that was taking place in the back room. Then Marco asked if we wanted a picture, lifted up the counter, and gestured us quickly into the back room. (I said he was lovely!)
Orazio, who has been making the mozzarella at Casa Della for 25 years, graciously showed us his craft. He’d been there since 6am, getting the cheese ready. First, he showed us how the curds are broken up.
Then Orazio poured boiling water on the curds, kneading them until they formed one smooth, shiny mass.
“Are you ready for a miracle?” he asked. “Because miracles don’t just happen on 34th street. They also happen on 187th!” He gestured to a tableau honoring the Virgin Mary. “Get ready for a miracle!”
And like that, he stretched the mozzarella out, three feet high! (Too much stretching, and the mozzarella will be tough, so it’s limited to a single miraculous show-off per batch.)
But the real miracle, for me, came after the cheese was formed and dropped into a vat of salty water. Marco pulled a piece out for us, mere moments after it had undergone its transformation. It was like eating a salty cloud, with the slightest tangy chew to remind you to do more than just stand there and blissfully smile. And it was so soft, I felt like my mouth was a brick-fired oven that could literally melt cheese. It tasted nothing (nothing!) like grocery store mozzarella. Orazio is definitely my new cheese hero!
We left with some pretty big grins on our faces, our cheese bundled up and cherished against the cold. (And p.s. They sing!)
We’re storing our mozzarella in a container filled with water and a little salt, until we eat it all raw or find a recipe to honor it.
