Last week, the BBC reported on the European Union bum-rushing Romanian peasants to comply with food production standards, threatening their ability to continue making the cheese the way they have for centuries. New regulations encourage stainless steel vats rather than wooden barrels, centralized production rather than cheesemaking in "sheepfolds" often a six-hour walk from the nearest road, and strict regulations that less than half of the producers can currently meet.
The peasants have two options: register as "traditional producers," or adapt to the new rules.
Well, at least they have that option. Can anyone imagine cheesemakers in the United States filing a few forms and carrying on to make raw-milk cheese in peace? No, our cauldron bubbleth over with paranoia.
The problem with registering as 'traditional producers' is that doing so ossifies the Romanians' practice, turning it into an obsolete tradition interesting only to gawking tourists. "Young people want to watch television, and play on computers nowadays, not look after sheep," laments Maria Sterp, member of the Old School. Can anyone blame them? In the fall, shepherds walk the sheep for two months until they reach a warm enough spot to brave the winter, battling wolves and bears before walking them back in the spring. Yeah, spending the winter with a Nintendo doesn't sound like too lame an alternative.
But people should be given the choice, no? If they want to carry on the tradition, they're not bothering anyone. The cheese is brined (feta-style), meaning its (probably extreme) saltiness is liable to kill any noxious bacteria that exist as a result of not pasteurizing the milk. It doesn't sound delicious, but it's probably safe. The Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) that arrives hand-in-hand with Romania's inclusion in the EU is "a multi-billion-pound juggernaut with armies of hygiene inspectors, fleets of spy satellites and hundred-page questionnaires." There is, as the Telegraph article just quoted suggests, an irony in European taxpayers building a Romanian farmer a dairy that his customers didn't ask for, forcing local farmers out of business. To Grigorie Danci, the idea of pooling land—what he'll have to do to survive—smacks of Communism. "I never want to go back in history," he said.
Funny. Aren't we meant to believe that these steps take us forward?
Nathalie Jordi's appetites keep her bouncing between between County Cork, New York, London and the French Alps. When not slinging curd or interviewing farmers, she writes for Travel&Leisure, Conde Nast Traveler, Gastronomica, and her blog at www.autobiogeography.com. Her dreams of a life spent baking, drinking margaritas, and sitting in the sun are gathering steam during her current stint as a waitress in New York City.
