In the rolling hills of Lazio, Italy, where the ancient Romans once roamed, a small dairy called I Buonatavola clings to a centuries-old tradition amid the pressures of modern global markets. Pecorino Romano, one of the world's oldest cheeses with roots tracing back to Ancient Rome, is still produced here in its original territory, even as most of the cheese bearing its name is now made far from the Eternal City. According to a recent report from Business Insider, I Buonatavola stands as one of the very last producers maintaining this historic craft in Lazio, a region that encompasses Rome and its surrounding areas.
The story of Pecorino Romano is deeply intertwined with Italy's culinary heritage. Historians note that the cheese was a staple in the Roman diet, mentioned in ancient texts for its sharp flavor and versatility in dishes ranging from simple peasant meals to imperial feasts. Made exclusively from sheep's milk, the cheese develops its distinctive salty, tangy profile through a meticulous aging process that can last from five months to over a year. But in recent decades, surging international demand has dramatically altered its production landscape.
Today, the vast majority of Pecorino Romano sold worldwide originates not from Lazio but from regions like Sardinia and Tuscany, where larger-scale operations can meet the needs of export markets. Business Insider's exploration highlights how this shift began in the mid-20th century, driven by post-World War II economic booms and a growing appetite for Italian specialties abroad, particularly in the United States. American consumers, who import millions of pounds annually, have fueled a production boom that prioritizes volume over strict geographic authenticity.
At I Buonatavola, located in the countryside outside Rome, the process remains a labor of tradition. Workers milk local sheep breeds twice daily, using only the fresh, unpasteurized milk to curdle into wheels weighing around 5 to 7 kilograms each. The curds are cut, salted in brine baths, and then aged in cool, humid cellars where molds like Penicillium contribute to the cheese's complex rind and interior. This method, according to the Business Insider report, adheres to the Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) standards set by the European Union, which mandate production within specific Italian territories for the cheese to carry the official Pecorino Romano label.
Yet, the report points out key differences between the Lazio version and those from other areas. Pecorino Romano from near Rome tends to have a more intense, herbaceous flavor influenced by the local pastures, where sheep graze on wild herbs and grasses unique to the volcanic soils of the region. In contrast, Sardinian productions, which account for about 70 percent of global output, often feature a slightly milder taste due to different feed and faster production cycles designed for export efficiency. Officials from the Consorzio per la Tutela del Formaggio Pecorino Romano, the regulatory body, emphasize that while all PDO versions must meet quality benchmarks, subtle variations arise from terroir and techniques.
Global demand, especially from the U.S., has been a double-edged sword for producers like I Buonatavola. In the 1980s and 1990s, as American supermarkets and restaurants clamored for affordable Italian imports, production in Lazio dwindled from dozens of dairies to just a handful. The Business Insider piece notes that exports now sustain I Buonatavola, with up to 60 percent of their output shipped overseas, preventing the complete disappearance of the traditional Lazio style. Without this international lifeline, the report suggests, the cheese's Roman roots might have faded entirely.
Local cheesemaker Giovanni Rossi, a veteran at I Buonatavola with over 30 years in the trade, described the challenges in an interview featured in the report. "We've seen families leave the business because they couldn't compete with the big factories in Sardinia," Rossi said. "But the American market appreciates the real thing—the one made here, with the history in every bite." His words underscore the resilience of small-scale operations, which rely on direct sales to exporters and a niche following among gourmet importers.
The economic pressures are not unique to Pecorino Romano. Italy's dairy sector has faced similar upheavals with other PDO products, like Parmigiano-Reggiano, where industrial production in non-traditional areas has sparked debates over authenticity. In Lazio, regional officials have pushed for subsidies to support heritage producers, citing the cultural value of maintaining ancient practices. According to a 2023 report from the Italian Ministry of Agriculture, traditional cheesemaking contributes over €500 million annually to the local economy, though much of that comes from exports.
Visitors to I Buonatavola can witness the process firsthand, from the milking sheds to the aging rooms stacked with thousands of wheels. The dairy, established in the early 1900s, employs about 20 people seasonally, many from nearby villages. The Business Insider visit, conducted in late 2023, captured the hands-on nature of the work: workers pressing curds by hand, brushing salt onto surfaces, and monitoring humidity levels to ensure proper rind formation. Such details highlight why enthusiasts argue that Lazio's Pecorino Romano offers an irreplaceable depth of flavor.
Despite the dominance of other regions, advocates for Lazio production point to growing interest in artisanal foods. U.S. import data from the U.S. Department of Agriculture shows Pecorino Romano shipments rising by 15 percent between 2020 and 2023, with premium segments from original territories gaining traction in high-end markets. Chefs in New York and San Francisco, for instance, praise the Lazio version for its pairing with bold reds and fresh pastas, distinguishing it from milder imports.
However, not all perspectives align on the cheese's evolution. Some industry experts, like those from larger Sardinian cooperatives, argue that scaled production has improved consistency and accessibility without compromising quality. "The PDO rules ensure every wheel is authentic, no matter where it's made," said Maria Conti, a representative from a major exporter, in a separate industry publication. This view contrasts with purists at I Buonatavola, who maintain that geography is integral to the cheese's soul.
Looking ahead, the future of Lazio's Pecorino Romano hangs in the balance. Climate change poses risks to sheep grazing, with drier summers affecting milk yields, while younger generations show less interest in the grueling work. Yet, initiatives like agritourism at dairies like I Buonatavola are drawing visitors, potentially bolstering local support. The Business Insider report concludes optimistically, noting how exports have "helped keep this historic producer alive," suggesting that global appreciation could preserve the tradition for years to come.
In Rome's bustling markets, slices of Pecorino Romano from Lazio fetch premium prices, a testament to its enduring allure. As one vendor put it, "It's not just cheese; it's a piece of history." With demand showing no signs of slowing, the story of I Buonatavola illustrates how ancient crafts adapt—or resist—in a world driven by far-flung tastes.
The broader implications extend to Italy's fight to protect its gastronomic legacy. As global trade expands, PDO designations serve as bulwarks against imitation, ensuring consumers know the origin of their Pecorino Romano. For now, in the quiet fields of Lazio, the wheels keep turning, bridging antiquity and modernity one salty bite at a time.