The Art in Slow Food | Photos brought to you by the Cheese Boutique

Cheese is simply the most versatile food I can think of, for the inclusion or exclusion in a dish often acts as the catalyst for the entire success of the meal. And one dish consisting entirely of Italian cheese has become one of the most unforgettable meals of my life.

I was presented with Pecorino cheese in three separate large slices: one was very young cheese, one was aged for about a year (described in broken English as a medium flavoured cheese) and the last was aged for several years. I was given three small vials of sweet jelly that was specifically meant for the cheese depending on age: the young cheese was complimented with a strawberry balsamic jelly, the medium cheese with eggplant jelly and the old cheese with a green tomato jelly. I can say with confidence that I have never been so impressed with cheese in my life. The young cheese was nearly as soft as a ricotta, the medium cheese had the stirrings of the older flavour in it while the old cheese was strong and ripe - obviously each of the jellies was painstakingly chosen.

But the truth is that I know nothing about how cheese is made and the process that goes into making such a luxurious gourmet product. But more importantly, I have no idea where cheese comes from in Toronto and remain unaware of the people behind the scenes that help put cheese on my table. My curiosity was piqued when a server at Fressen pointed me toward a special cheesery right in the city: “The best cheesery in town, one that has French distinction!”

Taking a bus from Runnymede, I ride south to a boutique situated by the Kingsway in a more residential area of Toronto. The old wrought iron doors are closed and guarded by a sharp-eared metal dog, so I walk in through automatic doors into a hallway filled with many shelves of gourmet products, already distracting me from the draw of the cheese to come. On the right of the hallway is a small terrace with an herb garden and flowers, particularly appealing in the good weather, but I linger as little as possible and make my way into the shop. A gust of cool air hits me as I enter and I’m greeted by Agim Pristine, son of the founder Fatos Pristine, who asks if I would like a latte before heading out to the terrace.

Agim works in the Cheese Boutique that Fatos Pristine developed, who has since been inducted into the Order of the Confrérie des Chevaliers du Taste Fromage de France for his contribution to cheese, something his son is all too aware of:

“My grandfather may have started the business, but my father built it. We’re the third generation and we’re trying not to screw it up – it’s the generation that things often seem to unravel, but we understand what it took to get to where we are and we respect that work.”

He tells me his father’s story: a man attending university while working at Ponderosa steakhouse and a Sobeys. His grandfather ran a local Becker’s convenience store on Bloor West, selling mainly cigarettes and milk. The previous tenants at the Bloor West location had failed to turn a profit, so the landlord gave the new tenants two thousand dollars, the monetary equivalent of one and a half months rent, to take over the lease. While the business was steady, it wasn’t until Fatos began thinking a little bigger did business truly take off; he fought with his father about the sale of cigarettes and instead began to import Brie and French truffles into the shop.

“And my father was a smoker! I remember seeing burns from cigarettes he left on the counter, back when it was ok to smoke at work, but my father understood that the opinion of smoking was changing and did not want business to be associated with them anymore, even if they were our top seller.”

Fatos Pristine is currently taking a short European vacation from the shop, but left the boutique in the capable hands of his offspring. His son Afrim has recently been named on the Ontario Hostelry Institute list of the top 30 young professionals under 30 working in hospitality and food, and Agim puts his share of work into the business as well: he was behind the move to import dried meats and helped bring other high-end groceries to add another facet to the shop, to entice customers to the new lower volume location.

“The best thing about being the third generation is that we get to work with passion. Not to say that my father didn’t, it’s just that things are more secure now. Last week Afrim took a one-kilo wheel of sheep milk cheese, threw it into a barrel of wine [Malivoire Old Vines Foch] and it will stay in there for the next year or more if something isn’t quite ready – we’ll see what happens.”

Even without financial security, the boutique has always risen above the societal mentality of unloading product to turn a quick profit; the Pristine family never compromise quality. Unlike the average supermarket, the added stress of selling new products has never stopped the boutique from holding onto cheese until the quality rises to a personally satisfying standard. Agim contrasts Brie sold at the boutique to the Brie at a supermarket, asserting that Brie only becomes unpleasantly chalky for three reasons: too young, no care and no love.

“Our society has an accessibility problem: we provide what we want whenever and wherever, as long as you pay for it. In Ontario, [the public] want strawberries in the middle of December, even though Ontario produces some of the best strawberries in North America during the spring and summer months. So why would you want strawberries in December? You eat much better if you eat in season.”

Inhabitants of many small European cities strictly eat in season, for the price of imports does not make economic sense. The cheese that comes from the Cheese Boutique reflects this base cultural perception; Agim constantly stresses the terroir of the product they import.

“The actual conditions of the materials is the most important part, because cheese itself is simple in the end: bacteria, salt and milk make 90% of the cheese. Here, we only want milk produced in June and August – well, July is ok too. But during these months the grass is green, flowers are out and cows are grazing properly. Between September and November the milk is still good, but the environment does not provide the best.”

The boutique prefers to buy cheeses from France and Italy due to the AOC and DOP, belonging to each nation respectively. These are governing boards that mark each cheese with their trademark symbol, which guarantees the products for buyers like the Cheese Boutique. These accreditations are similar to Ontario’s VQA, but are only generally accepted for cheese from these two European boards. While Agim agrees that not many groups can create such prestige, making it tough to create establish such a council, he believes official recognition is better. For a Parmigiano Reggiano to receive accreditation from the DOP, the cheese must be aged between sixteen months to three years at minimum, or it will not bear the name of Parmigiano Reggiano. To Agim, a non-accredited label could be any label: “No governing body can tell you for certain what the product is and what it isn’t and you can’t go back to the cow and ask. Once the product is pre-packaged you just don’t know”.

Agim has watched the interest vanish from trades such as the local tailor and shoemaker, a movement that has taken its toll on prepared foods as well: “These days, the only hands-on from a baker may be the actual scoring of a frozen loaf and while the product is still good, the art is gone.” A baker may need to freeze bread so that it keeps until the sale, but the Cheese Boutique has built its business on the aging process. More often than not cheese makers give a cheese wheel a ‘King’s Cut,’ which removes the center square of the cheese and leaves the edges of the wheel, and once the cut has been made the cheese is packaged and sent out. The vacuum packing preserves the product en route to its sale but cuts the cheese off from the all-important aging process, robbing the cheese of its potential. Contrarily, the Cheese Boutique ages and babies every cheese that passes through its doors, regardless of the inherent risk of such an extended turnaround time.

“Mr. Ericcio, an Italian cheese maker, attended a charity function of ours and proudly pointed out a 100 kilo provolone torpedo of his make to Afrim, who told him: 'You’ve never tasted your cheese as good as this.’ We had aged the cheese for 5 years and after having a taste he became very excited and called all of his friends over to try the cheese. He called my father the next day to thank him for the time and care on his provolone and told my father that if there was anything he could do at anytime that he would do it, to let him know. Well my father, never one to waste such a thing, proposed the cheese maker send a large 380-kilo monster of provolone he had seen displayed in similar shop in New York. He only ever makes two a year and agreed because a man in Japan had been interested too. So my father asked if he could have one every year.”

At this point I was led expectantly to the Cheese Cave, which I expect is an elaborate construct where Fatos has set up a lair to hide his secret identity as a Toronto cheese vigilante, but instead turns out to be a place where great cheeses hibernate, which is nearly as good; perhaps a venture into the private caves beyond would reveal more on the matter. The public cheese cave is only a sliver of the warehouse space dedicated to cheese, but I bear witness to the aforementioned torpedoes of provolone and the vat of wine containing a wheel of its own, in addition to other notables such as Spanish Manchego cheese, a highly recommended American cheese called ‘the Big Ed’, as well as a 500-pound Canadian cheddar in the corner.

“We put that cheese in here in 2004 and don’t plan on opening it until 2019 or 2020.”

I’m awe struck and it shows, so he drops another bomb on me.

“Two hundred pounds will be completely unusable,” and as my awe deepens he adds, “but the core will be perfect.”

The future of this business is secure in the third generation, but it wasn’t always planned. Afrim attended Wilfred Laurier in the interest of becoming a history teacher, yet Agim tells me that history and cheese are intrinsically linked; in Europe, certain cheeses were developed for certain families and those original cheeses are still crafted today. Afrim is certainly one that subscribes to the belief that when Napoleon reached into his jacket, it was to retrieve a piece of French Epoisse, his favourite cheese. Agim’s youngest brother also attended university, yet when I ask Agim if he ever harboured postsecondary aspirations, he tells me of his own childhood fantasies: a great love of sports led him into pursuing a scholarship to school for North American football.

“I was never pushed by my father to join the business, none of us were. But I was coming to the shop since I was five – I would stay at my grandparents place on the weekends so I could come in the morning, because their house was closer. By the age of nine I was coming after school to help out. I only wanted to go to school for sports, so when the scholarship fell through it was an easy decision. I ended up buying my grandparents house after they passed and I now have my family there.”

His own two children make appearances at the store, which elicits grins and jokes from the regular customers about the shop entering its fourth generation, but Agim doesn’t mind: “That feels good too, the recognition is a nice feeling. This is a family store, we have family customers and in my family, we place importance on what you put on the table, what you give to your guests. The kitchen has always been the most important room in the house.”

The Cheese Boutique has flourished since its move. A high traffic Bloor West location cannot compare to the new, larger location that has kept the boutique open for an additional nine years. The breadth of product is staggering and the welcoming environment keeps the customers coming. During the interview, I had a lady come up to Agim with a pamphlet for the Pilates program across the street. Another couple approached to show Agim a picture of a man they met in Holland making poffertjes that looks exactly like a younger Fatos, who they have known for years.

On my way out of the shop, Agim gives me a bag filled with a lump of Chabichou from the Loire Valley in France, a goat cheese aged 6 months, a log of Toscano salami made in house (also aged 6 months), and a fresh baguette. The goat cheese is best to eat in the summer because it is a lighter, fresher taste; richer, creamier cheeses can be overbearing in hot weather. The core of the Chabichou was soft and the edges ran slightly when cut, perfect on a baguette with the strong salami.

The Cheese Boutique is always finding new ways to serve their customers, recently manifesting in the arrival of a new Prosciutto slicer from Italy. Although it is an old machine that must be sliced without the aid of electricity, the boutique has spent over eight months transferring the machine for one simple reason: regular slicers move at too fast a speed and actually cook the meat slightly, while the new machine can never attain such a speed at which that will happen.

To slaver over future exploits at the Cheese Boutique, follow their personal blog: http://cheeseboutique.blogspot.com/