There are few things more quintessentially Italian than Mozzarella cheese. It is so highly appreciated and desired that much of it even maintains a Denominazione di origine controllata (DOC), or protected geographical status in English. This is similar to Roquefort or Champagne – only products produced in that area and with a specific method and ingredients can be labeled as such.

Here in Civitanova, a lovely man named Giuseppe runs one of the only places in this region that makes fresh mozzarella every day. He hails from Puglia, and spent thirty years there making cheese. One year ago he opened Le Bonta’ del Latte in Civitanova and has been gracing the residents with his divine dairy creations ever since.

Now, in the United States I’m not a huge fan of mozzarella, especially the fresh kind. It’s kind of a flavorless lump that adds nothing of value to most dishes. I’d much rather use a nice tallegio or fontina to top a pizza than the bland junk that passes as fresh mozzarella at home.

Here in Italy, however, it is an art – and one best served fresh. Very fresh. Made that day or it’s not worth eating fresh. And, as I found out last Saturday, eating it a few minutes after it is made will inspire heart palpitations and declarations of undying love for the region of Puglia and it’s cheesemakers.

Mozzarella, like most things worth eating and appreciating, is rather simple to make. In fact, it’s one of the easiest cheeses for novices to attempt at home, right after ricotta. What it requires for greatness, however, is a high-level of quality of its main ingredient – milk – and a few decades of experience doesn’t hurt either.

After my host mom arranged it the prior week, we arrived at the shop around 8:30 am to watch Giuseppe work his alchemy. He had already worked long enough to create the separation of curds and whey and was carefully stretching and manipulating the curds into a silky, creamy mass. Much of the transformation occurs with quick changes in temperature of water. Moving it from one bath to another shocks the curds, then Giuseppe caringly stirs the mixture with his hands, then with the handle of a large wooden paddle, and then works it over the paddle itself.

After he gets it to the precise consistency he desires, he forms it into a large number of different shapes. He takes small pieces and ties them into a granny knot to make knottini. Or he’ll smooth and squeeze the cheese into great big balls, or tiny little bocconcini. He braids some, then stretches even more into great big strips, perfect for making straciatella, the creamy, stringy, probably-literally-heart-stopping-goodness that is a combination of cheese and heavy cream.

The process is simple enough, but watching Giuseppe work his craft was truly amazing. He takes pride in his craft and it shows – the mozzarella he offered us just moments after it was finished was one of the best foods I have ever eaten in my entire life. Watching him methodically manipulate the cheese from a craggy mess into a silky smooth, perfectly salted mozzarella was cathartic in its own way. I truly felt honored to be invited into his store and to watch him work.

In fact, when I move to my next host family in two weeks or so, I’ll be close enough to pop over whenever I want. And Giuseppe, amazing person that he is, invited me to start in the early morning with him to actually help make the cheese with him. Mozzarella might be a fairly simple cheese to make, but learning from a true Italian artisan? Talk about an experience worth more than gold.