Dear Mozzarella,

Each and every one of the last ten summers, you have been the star attraction with my summer tomatoes.  I loved you in all your moods and I always will.  We had a great run. 

The soft center of your  bufalla, the small ones or, the fresh one that is handmade. 

I prized you in all your glory.  Simple, light yet a great medium for the olive oil, the tomatoes and the basil.  

Remember that afternoon in Berkeley?  

Here you are at my brother's birthday last year; 

that evening in August;

 and early this summer with the tomatoes from the farmer's market. 

It's not you, really, it's me.  I went back to my childhood, I went back to my summers in Egypt and Greece.  I went back to where I was comforted and where I was nourished. 

You see it started with a simple request, I asked my brother in New York to send me Greek Feta, from Astoria.  Being a Greek and a member of my family, he did not send me a human amount, this is what he sent me.

Two types of real Greek feta, one from Metsovo and one from Arachova. Now, as you can see, he sent enough feta to feed a small country.  Not that French feta I find here, or the other stuff that poses as feta from other places.  The Bulgarian, now that is close.  But, I don't find that one here, I have to go to Berkeley. 

Considering that feta needs to be kept in brine, the two chunks took a lot of room in my fridge and they served us this summer.  Mozzarella, in this quantity is not possible and would have gone all pink and fuzzy on me.  Anyway, after last year's mozzarella scandal, I was a bit concerned. 

So, when I make my bread

and wonder, what shall I eat for lunch?  It's obvious 

or this, simple taste, comforting taste;

and finally, your full glory the nightly salad,  cucumbers, onion and kalamata olives.

Ciao, bella mozzarella, maybe we can have some encounters in restaurants , but for this summer, it's back to my roots, back to my feta, olives and tomatoes.  

Arivederci.  

Your true devoted lover, Stella.