Flavour shaker

For most of us Parmesan cheese arrived in the sixties along with the mini skirt and free love - somewhere between Elizabeth David's 'Italian Cookery' and the surge of cheap package holiday travel that gave us 'International Cuisine' and the dinner party 'spag bol'. It was grim stuff, expensive, pre-grated, foul-smelling, and packed in a cardboard shaker.

Later, as we all learned more about Italian cuisine, bigger chunks appeared at the supermarket and fresh-grating became the test of authenticity. Today, hardly a salad is served without 'shavings of fresh Parmesan'.

In fact, the cheese we call Parmesan has been part of our cuisine for a very much longer time. According to his diaries, Samuel Pepys buried 'my Parmazan cheese, as well as my wine' in the garden of his house in Fleet Street to protect them from the Great Fire of London.

Stilton, the most English of cheeses, doesn't appear in historical record until 1720 so what was Parmesan doing in London in 1666? Let's just think about that for a moment. That's like finding a mention of chile con carne in 'Paradise Lost'.

The name 'Parmesan' is French and refers to the area of origin, around Parma in northern Italy. Historically, the name was applied to any of the northern Italian hard grating or 'grana' cheeses; Parmigiano, Reggiano, Padano, Bagozzo and Lodigiano.

'Grana', meaning 'grainy' refers to the texture produced by the cheesemaking process. Skimmed cow's milk is curdled with rennet, heated, pressed, brined and matured, producing a dry cheese with a fantastic shelf life. Since the Middle Ages traders in exotic luxuries had been able to import Parmesan, safe in the knowledge that a long voyage and storage would only improve the flavour. Most English cheeses, on the other hand, kept and aged poorly and were rarely eaten outside the area in which they were made.

Pepys would have regarded his cheese as a condiment. Then, as now, it was used as a flavour enhancer but it was only recently and from the unlikely direction of Japan that we've begun to understand why.

It had long been believed that the human palate could only distinguish four separate tastes; sweet, sour, bitter and salt (tastes are sensation that take place solely in the mouth while flavor is a combination of taste and olfactory sensation) In 1908 professor Kikunae Ikeda working in Tokyo isolated a fifth taste which he called 'umami' - Japanese for 'delicious' or 'savoury'.

This new taste was present in several common eastern ingredients; soy sauce, nam pla fish sauce, dried shrimp, dried seaweed and controversially, monosodium glutamate. Most importantly, umami was found to improve or enhance the tastes and flavours of other ingredients.

Western ingredients with an umami taste are less common but include some varieties of mushroom, anchovies and, of course, Parmesan cheese. It seems that dear old Samuel Pepys was livening up his dinner with a natural form of MSG.

Parmesan matures brilliantly, tastes phenomenal and makes everything it touches taste better so it's not surprising that it's remained a favourite luxury ingredient whenever and wherever it's been exported. The Emperor Napoleon, with the finest that French cuisine could offer at his command still favoured Parmesan above all other cheeses and the poet Molière, stricken with illness, refused broth and demanded Parmesan which he consumed with such gusto that he spilled it over his deathbed.

Since 1955, when a government decree established and defined the area which could use the name, only 'grana Reggiano Parmigiana' from the area around Reggio Emilia can be called Parmesan, but all grana cheeses have their own unique qualities and share the umami effect. Today, high quality, well kept grana of all varieties is available through most delis and supermarkets.

We still grate it indiscriminately over every Italian dish we can concoct and let umami work its mysterious magic, but we are also beginning to appreciate the subtle delicacy of grana cheese alone. The best deserves a place on the cheeseboard not just on the grater. In fact, as it's such a delicious and versatile luxury, perhaps we should all consider burying a bit in the garden - in case of fire.