Curd cut by hand before breakfast: reserve an early morning dairy day near Parma

Five hours in order of appearance

Four in the morning is not a flourish. It is when the evening milk has finished standing and the morning milk arrives, and the two go into the vat together. You watch the vat come up to heat, the curd set, and then the cutting, done by hand with a long blade until the grains are the size the cheesemaker wants and not a moment past. The mass comes out in cloth, is cut in two, and goes into moulds. By half past eight the first wheels carry their marks. Then the brine room, which is cold, and a walk down the ripening store where the wheels sit in ranks and the older ones are sounded with a small hammer to hear what is happening inside. You eat at nine, after the work.

Cold floors and a four o'clock alarm

The alarm is the hard part. You are collected in the dark, and the working floor is wet, cold and loud with pumps for the first two hours; the ripening store afterwards is colder still, with a draught along it. There is nowhere to sit until breakfast. Shoes must be closed and washable, and at the door you will be handed a coat, a cap and overshoes, plus a beard covering if one applies, and nobody is exempt from any of it. Hands go into the vat only if the cheesemaker offers. If you cannot stand for two hours without something to lean on, this is a poor five hours to buy, and the attic day for cooked must vinegar in the same region is a gentler way to spend a morning.

What $176 holds and what it leaves out

From $176 per person. Inside the figure: the dairy's time and the cheesemaker's attention across five and a half hours, the clothing handed to you at the door, breakfast at the end, and a piece cut from the store in front of you. Outside it: getting to the province, and getting to the gate at four, which in practice means a car, because nothing else moves at that hour. Beds are not included, though the office will place them close enough that the alarm is survivable. The dairy invoices you itself, in its own name, after the morning. This office takes no payment, holds no card details, and is paid a commission by the dairy once the day has happened.

Awkward things people ask about this day

Four in the morning is brutal. Can it start at seven?

No, and not because anyone is being awkward. The vat is filled once, when the evening milk has stood and the morning milk comes in, and the curd is cut when it is ready rather than when a visitor turns up. By seven the wheels are in their moulds and the part worth watching is over. If you want the same region without the alarm, the attic vinegar day starts at ten.

There are two of us and the day needs four.

Then it sits on a provisional date until two more names arrive, and you will be told the running count rather than left guessing. Two things can move it: a later week where names are already gathering, or covering the shortfall between you, which the dairy will quote and which is usually poor value. Nothing is charged while a date is still provisional.

Can you post cheese to us at home?

No. This office arranges days. It does not send parcels and does not act as a shipper. The dairy sells at its own counter and can tell you what it will and will not pack for a suitcase. What may cross a border with you is a question for the carrier you travel with and for your own authorities, and we give no advice on it.