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Foiling the Cheese Thieves To escape from the abundance of pork fat in my diet, I tour a cheese factory. My editor, Roberto, does public relations for a farming town and offers to lead me around. Modena falls in the official area that is allowed to make Parmigiano-Reggiano, according to government officials, which I call “the food police,” but Roberto is not amused. Authentic Parmesan is edible gold and must be made only with the milk from pedigreed red Reggiana cows. I’m told that wheels of Parmesan fill some local bank vaults, as the value of the cheese wheels remains more constant than any currency. Locals often call it grana, which refers to a less costly version of Parmesan-like cheese called grana padano. Ironically, grana is also slang for “money.” One wheel of Parmesan sells for upwards of $500, so I ask the guide at the cheese factory if they’ve ever had a security problem. His tone turns somber as he tells me about his encounter with the notorious cheese thieves. “One night, burglars broke into our warehouse and filled their truck with wheels of Parmigiano. Millions of Euros of cheese were in the truck headed for the black market. Luckily, as they drove away, the police noticed their license plates were from out of town. The crooks were caught as they were leaving.” Then he whispers, “They were from Naples,” as if this was to be expected. 33 Even though I’m in a warehouse with delicious cheese stacked two stories high as far as I can see, the subject of the conversation inevitably changes to pigs. “The leftovers from making Parmesan are given to the pigs. This is what gives prosciutto its special flavor,” the guide notes. “Not only are wheels of Parmesan in the bank, but also legs of prosciutto.” Even the cheese is somehow related to the pigs in Modena. 34 Foiling the Cheese Thieves ...

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