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September 21, 2019
Piave PDO’s Super Power
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TASTE-PIAVE-A

Why We Can’t Stop Eating This Under-The-Radar Alpine Cheese

Have you ever heard a European cheese described as being “selfless”? I hadn’t either, until I started discussing Piave PDO—the under-the-radar cheese from the Dolomites that’s beloved by in-the-know chefs and cheesemongers—with Eataly North America’s Director of Fresh Products, Tess McNamara. “It’s kind of like the best friend everyone leans on but never looks out for,” she tells me, and suddenly I feel guilty. As the Dolomites and its culinary heritage enjoy a well-earned surge in interest, it’s time to start paying humble Piave PDO a little more attention.

Piave’s story takes place in the province of Belluno, sometimes called the “gateway to the Dolomites,” in Northeastern Italy’s Veneto region. A little over an hour north of Venice, the topography couldn’t be more different from that city’s lagoons and canals. But the cheese shares its name with the Piave River, which flows from the mountains down through the Venetian Plain, past the Venetian Lagoon, and into the Adriatic Sea.

Along that river is the town of Busche, headquarters of the regional dairy cooperative Lattebusche, which was formed in 1954. Lattebusche is the sole producer of Piave PDO, which achieved PDO status—the highest mark of quality in the European Union—in 2010. “In order to get a PDO, it’s a long, difficult road,” says Chiara Brandalise, the director of the Consorzio Tutela Piave DOP, the consortium that protects and promotes Piave PDO. “It took us ten years, and we had to demonstrate that this cheese is both unique and inimitable, and that it’s this way because it’s produced in this territory,” she adds. Clearly, all those things are true.

Piave PDO starts with the cows, and they can only be four breeds: the Bruna Italiana, the Frisona Italiana, the Pezzata Rossa, and the Grigio Alpina. Michela De Cet, a third-generation livestock breeder and dairy farmer, raises the first two on her farm near Busche. “The taste of the milk depends on what the animals eat,” she explains, “so a lot of the particular taste of Piave PDO comes from the herbs and flowers that are in this area.”

In this region, like other cheese-producing Alpine areas, farmers engage in the centuries-old practice of transhumance, which allows the cows to seasonally migrate and graze freely in higher-altitude pastures. There are even seasonal variations in the milk that manifest in the finished cheese. “It’s very different in structure,” explains Brandalise. “The mountain milk is much more protein-rich.”

De Cet’s farm is one of about 150 that provide milk to the cooperative, where it is treated with starter cultures—fermenti, in Italian—that introduce another layer of hyperlocal bacteria to the process. Brandalise likens it to a lievito madre, or sourdough starter. “That’s part of what makes it so unique and so different,” says Brandalise.

The mixture is then cooked into curd and pressed into wheels, before being tattooed with Piave PDO’s distinctive 1960s-era logo in evenly spaced intervals along the outside of the wheel. “We wanted to maintain the identity of the cheese even when it is sliced,” explains Brandalise.

Even more eye-catching are the colorful labels that adorn each wheel, color-coded to match the cheese’s four different stages of maturity. There’s light blue for Piave PDO Fresco, aged 20 to 60 days; medium blue for Piave PDO Mezzano, aged 60 to 180 days; dark blue for Piave PDO Vecchio, aged at least six months; and finally, red for the Piave PDO Vecchio Selezione Oro, aged at least one year.

The typography and graphic design of both the Piave PDO logo and Lattebusche’s logo (which is on the wheel) recall classic mid-century aesthetics such as Walter Ballmer’s legendary work for Olivetti. “It’s iconic,” says McNamara, and I totally agree. Whole wheels of Piave PDO jump out of the case—and then it’s only a matter of choosing one.

The younger styles of Piave PDO are mellow and creamy, with floral aromas and characteristic sweet undertones that match well with local white wines like Soave. They melt beautifully, in panini for example, but also—more traditionally—when seared in a frying pan and served alongside polenta. “We use polenta as the side dish,” Brandalise explains, “and the cheese cooked in the pan is the main dish!”

Piave Vecchio PDO is much more complex, with nutty and caramelly notes, plus tyrosine crystals that folks may recognize from other cheeses. But the similarities end there—while other cheeses can be brash and salt-forward, Piave PDO—even as a more robust vecchio—is nuanced, especially when enjoyed at room temperature. While both can be grated on top of pasta, for example, Piave PDO discreetly works its way into the underlying savory structure (rather than providing major bursts of umami).

“It’s not a cheese that has a lot of bravado,” McNamara says, and sometimes that’s just what a dish calls for. But it is also, as she says, “cheeseboard-ready,” and crucially, it’s quite affordable, even with tariffs, increased fuel prices, and other factors that affect both cheesemongers and consumers.

While Piave PDO—in all its selflessness—can be somewhat elusive on restaurant menus, discerning chefs incorporate it into salads, pasta dishes, and cheese courses. It frequently pops up at Evan Funke’s trattoria Felix in Los Angeles, where it may be served with the Venetian pasta shape bigoli, coated in duck ragù. At Manhattan’s Ci Siamo, chef Hillary Sterling, a card-carrying Piave PDO fan, serves it over rabbit stracci; at Rezdôra, Stefano Secchi’s temple to Emilia-Romagna, Piave Vecchio PDO is one of five cheeses offered in the cheese course. Not bad for a cheese from the Veneto.

But outside of restaurants, it is well represented at cheese shops and specialty grocers. And thanks to increased visibility from the Milano Cortina Winter Olympics, which took place a little ways north of Piave PDO’s production area, consumers are rightfully looking to stock their pantries with more and more products from the Dolomites.

By supporting cheeses like Piave PDO, we help ensure that it will continue for future generations—which is not always a given. “In mountainous areas, [cheesemaking] is much harder,” says Brandalise, “Younger generations sometimes prefer to go into a simpler line of work.” McNamara echoes her concern: “There is not a generation today that wants to go into the Alps from May to October,” she says.

There is also the question of climate change. When I talk to De Cet in July, during an unrelenting heat wave of multiple days in the mid-90s, she tells me that “we are dying of heat.” In the heat, she explains, “The cows produce less milk. They’re stressed, they’re not eating as well, and there’s a risk of miscarriages.” Farmers like her are having to consider new ways to adapt to the shifting reality. “We’ve added fans, which was previously unthinkable,” she says, “and we’re thinking of adding cooling sprinklers for the cows.” None of this comes without a cost, and while there are sources of government assistance, nothing is assured.

Importantly, helping out the region’s dairy farmers isn’t just a question of preserving cheesemaking traditions—it’s bigger than that. “I’m a dairy farmer, but I don’t just raise cows,” De Cet tells me. “I make hay for the cows and I clean the equipment, but I also have to look out for the land. If it weren’t for dairy farmers, our landscape wouldn’t look this way.”

Because Piave PDO’s production is located within a national park—the Parco Nazionale Dolomiti Bellunesi—stewardship of the pristine environment is a top priority. Brandalise also notes that they participate in the Carta d’Argento, a local sustainability and quality certification scheme that has similarities to the PDO program.

These two markers of quality have done a lot to elevate Piave PDO’s status both locally and internationally. And there’s a palpable sense of gratification when talking to those charged with maintaining its presence in the pantheon of Alpine cheeses. It’s hard work—but it’s not without its rewards. “I’m in love with this land, these animals, and these mountains,” De Cet tells me, “and knowing that these mountains gave birth to a cheese like Piave PDO is an enormous source of pride. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Funded by the European Union. Views and opinions expressed are however those of the author(s) only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union or of the granting authority. Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.

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Luke Pyenson

Luke Pyenson is a New York City-based food and travel writer whose features and recipes have appeared in the Washington Post, the Boston Globe, the New York Times, Saveur, and other publications. His first book, Taste in Music: Eating On Tour with Indie Musicians, will be published by Chronicle Books this fall.