Grana padano

"No, ma, probably in America your 'parmesan', it's not veramente Parmigiano Reggiano - D.O.P." he says this last rather emphatically.

Our Wednesday morning English lesson is winding down, the whirring sound of insects beyond the screens contributes a sense of summer lethargy to the lesson, and we have slipped onto the subject of food (as you do) and one of my students is explaining to me why American food is defective. (This is a common theme if you're talking to Italians about food.)

"No, its probably grana padano," he explains, making a face. I nod, pretending I understand why this is such an important point. He continues, his facial expression clearly conveying his distaste, "grana padano, it's not such good quality," he tells me. "Don't buy it."

"Infatti," adds another student, "it's strange because when you tell someone to go buy cheese, just generally, you say 'vai a prendere la grana', but really you mean Parmigiano Reggiano. No one would ever just buy grana padano."

"Yes," they all agree. "Don't buy grana padano. Only Parmigiano Reggiano. It's better."

I accept this and we move on to adverbs of frequency, using the framework of how often we eat various types of food. (Should you ever be in the situation of teaching English - or any language, really - to adults in Italy, food is pretty much a sure bet as a conversation point. You can make the longest of lessons go by in two seconds if you just start them talking about food.)

In the ensuing months (this was actually last May), every time I pass grana padano in the supermarket, I remember what's-his-name from that group last year, and I do not buy it. Until one day there happens to be a very appealing chunk of it on sale in Standa (Billa, whatever) and I am hungry and I say (to myself, silently), 'hey, what the heck, it has a D.O.P. as well,' and buy it.

And now it's awkward because the other day I grated it onto some bizarre rice and tomato mixture that I had concocted (don't ask - we've already established that I am crap at cooking, right?) and... anyway... the point is, Ithink I might possibly like it better than Parmigiano Reggiano, D.O.P.

Clearly I have the palate of an uncultured peon. Sigh. So now when I go to the supermarket, I have to sneakily grab my grana padano and hide it under a head of lettuce or something. Although apparently I don't feel the need to capitalize 'grana padano', even though it's clearly got its own D.O.P, too. I'm too lazy to go back and fix it now, though, so... tough luck. Anyway... yeah, there's no moral to that story or anything. Back to your normally scheduled activities.