<< Back to Pack Yack

Farming in Italy: The life of a Volunteer by Rachel Leshaw

Chris and I decided to see Italy through the eyes of the farmers. We signed up for the WOOF directory (Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms) and contacted the farms that sounded enticing.

Our third farm, we read in the brochure, specialized in cheese production. We were surprised to pull up to a castle standing majestically over a large grass lawn. The perimeter of the lawn was lined with two-story red brick houses. Fabio and Paola, the owners, explained that the piazza was once central to a flourishing village.

Dinner on our first night set a precedent for the weeks to come. Starting at 8:30pm, neighbors and friends arrived to the large dining room. Many bottles of wine were opened and finished. Pasta and meat was served in generous proportions. A bowl of raw fennel salad dressed in oil and vinegar was passed around last. Because some of the dinner guests spoke English or translated, we felt included and welcomed (as well as ignorant for knowing only English.)

At 7am each morning, we helped Fabio hook each of the 30 cows to the milking machines (5 cows at a time.) The milk byproduct called whey is unusable in cheese production and is, therefore, breakfast for the pigs. By 8am, our Italian hosts were having their breakfast of espresso while Chris and I ate enough to fill the stereotype of Americans as Big Eaters. The yogurt, thick and pure, could be combined with just about anything.

Depending on inventory and upcoming demand, Fabio would teach how to make a certain type of cheese. For ricotta, he showed the technique of filling rectangular molds with hand-fulls of loosely formed cheese. As the water drained, free-standing rectangles of ricotta would emerge. Fabio and Paola teamed up to demonstrate the craft of making Mozzarella. First the milk was heated to a specific degree while enzymes were added. Then Fabio handled a bundle of the hot cheese in his arms. He squeezed to create sections about the size of a fist. Paola's job was to sever the fist-sized ball of cheese from the larger mass and let it drop into a bucket of cold water. She used only her fingers to "mozza" (cut) the section of cheese. She made it look effortless but by our third mozza, our fingers ached.

It was fun to learn the business side of cheese production. We sliced cheese, placed it on the scale, and wrapped it neatly in pretty paper. Every three days we did this to fill orders for delivery to local businesses and residences. At the farmer's market, Paola was our liaison to the customer and would translate their order into English. One cold afternoon working at the farmer's market, Paola and Fabio wanted to warm up in a coffee shop. They trusted the cheese stand with us. Customers quickly caught on that we could only understand gestures. As the customers pointed to a type of cheese, they would use the thumb and index finger of the other hand to indicate the desired quantity.

One night at 2am there was a knock on our bedroom door. Fritz, the only full-time employee of the farm hurriedly exclaimed, "You don't want to miss this! Come on!" We jogged in our pajamas and arrived at the barn just as a mother cow was tenderly licking her new born baby. The barn was decibels quieter than ever before, as if all the animals knew that something sacred just happened. In the morning, Fritz would determine if the baby was a boy (to be sold for meat) or a girl (to be raised on site for future milk production.) We were relieved when Fritz declared the baby a girl. A step was added to morning and evening chores: fill a 1-liter plastic bottle with fresh warm milk to feed the calf. While the baby focused on sucking the bottle's nipple, I pet her neck and kissed her forehead.

Food was often a topic of conversation. Fabio found it hilarious that Chris buys pasta in a supermarket when "it's so easy to make fresh!" To demonstrate, Fabio mixed flour and eggs in a bowl, rolled it loosely on the table, and cut the dough into squares. He filled each square with ricotta cheese, pressed the edges, and dropped each into boiling water for a minute or two. Each tortellini emerged as perfection.

On the day of American Thanksgiving, we cooked dinner. Without access to traditional provisions, we came up with a menu of butternut squash soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and stir-fry. The Italians chuckled and appreciated our effort.

When we returned to the U.S., we mailed a box of Macaroni and Cheese to Paola and Fabio. You know the box: 8 ounces of macaroni noodles with a packet of bright orange powdered cheese food. We were glad we had decided to volunteer for our vacation. Not only was our need to explore satisfied, but we exchanged cultures and made friends.

[ Back to Top ]


<< Back to Pack Yack