not really pairing anything with: bufala mozzarella

The trumpeting self-publishing hubbub of the Anglophone expat community here in Paris sometimes allows us to forget there are also corresponding expat groups from other, more interesting cultures inhabiting the same city. So I'm lucky to know my friend L, an Italian whose copious free time and multinational background allow him to move freely among both Italian and American circles. He travels constantly, and whenever sur la route du retour from Campania he makes sure to back a suitcase full of fresh bufala mozzarella.

Which in Paris provides a nice occasion to throw a party. If you've ever seen the line outside of Cisternino when the burrata arrives on Thursdays, you'll understand what I mean.

Our friends A and P. No prizes for guessing which one is Italian. 

I arrived late the other night, but just in time to snag a few slices of dreamy white mozzarella. Like many afficionados, L insists that fresh bufala mozzarella never be refrigerated, and instead simply left at room temperature in its amniotic sac of whey until eaten. So what you get is lukewarm suitcase cheese. It's terrific, meaty and ripe in a way that the legally imported stuff rarely approaches.

As happens all too frequently, I was asked what we ought to pair with fresh mozzarella. Having spent time as a sommelier at a restaurant themed around mozzarella, I ought to have an easy answer by now. I don't.