Photos by Michael Piazza / Styled by Catrine Kelty

Food memories are powerful. Like unearthing a beloved childhood toy, certain tastes and smells can catapult us back in time.

With one whiff of bell peppers roasting over an open flame, I’m instantly carried away to my grandmother’s kitchen on a summer afternoon. One taste of pungent oil-cured black olives, and I’m a teenager wolfing down her Sicilian-style pizza. A single crunch into refreshing raw fennel and suddenly it’s Christmas, the feast is finished, and I’m around the table with cousins, aunts and uncles, each of us with a fistful of playing cards.

But the one ingredient most likely to send me into a Proustian trance, that feels like a reassuring hug from an old friend, that I covertly eat by the spoonful while standing in front of the fridge, is fresh ricotta.

My grandmother’s refrigerator was never without a checkered red and white tub of the milky fresh cheese. I can still hear her voice in my head, pronouncing the word the Italian-American way: “Ri-GAWTH-ah.” She used the product copiously, in homemade ravioli and lasagna, baked into Easter cakes and pies and in casual family meals. My favorite dish, the one that would prompt an enthusiastic “yes” when asked to stay for supper, was pasta with ricotta. She’d stir a generous spoonful of the stuff into hot mostaccioli. It was my grandmother’s version of mac ’n’ cheese. Simple. Filling. Comforting.

The word ricotta translates to “recooked.” Traditionally, it is made by reheating whey leftover from the process of making other cheeses such as mozzarella or provolone. Like gleaning remains from a harvested crop, it’s an economical method of eking out every last curd from the milk. The resulting texture is like soft, crumbly cottage cheese. Most producers nowadays make it from milk, not whey—a step removed from tradition, but equally enjoyable. It is commercially made by large national companies (like what my grandmother used), and locally produced in small batches by New England dairies.

What you might not know is that with just an instant-read thermometer, some cheesecloth and about 20 minutes, you can make your own fresh ricotta that will be far superior to what you find in the grocery store. Think of the warm, fluffy clouds of dairy spooned straight from the strainer into your mouth. Trust me: It is time well spent.

Its delicate neutral flavor can lean sweet or savory. In honor of the season, I offer recipes that pair the cheese with spring herbs, eggs, ramps, peas and asparagus. For leisurely breakfast lovers, there are lemon ricotta pancakes— perfect on chilly April mornings when you want to stay cozied up inside. There’s even a spring chicken, stuffed under the skin with cheese and herbs, just like my mother and grandmother did. The spatchcocked bird is basted with the juices of pancetta and ricotta while it roasts, making it extra moist and tender. To this day, when a forkful of the filling hits my tongue, it’s like I’m a kid again—staying for supper, because when it comes to ricotta, I can’t say no.

RECIPE

Making your own ricotta is a low-effort, high-reward endeavor that is like watching magic appear right before your eyes. With just three ingredients and the alchemy of heat, you can transform milk (a great way to use up cartons close to their expiration date) into a rich treat for spreading on toast, or for incorporating into any of the following recipes. The only special equipment you need is a reliable instant-read thermometer and some cheesecloth. Once you’ve strained the curds, the reserved whey can be saved and used in place of water for cooking oatmeal or other grains, making breads or in the lemon ricotta pancake recipe.

Makes 1 pound

8 cups (½ gallon) whole milk, minimally processed (not UHT pasteurized)
2 teaspoons kosher salt
3 tablespoons distilled white vinegar

Line a colander or mesh strainer with 3 layers of cheesecloth and set it over a large bowl. Have a digital instant-read thermometer on hand and a large slotted spoon or mesh spider.

Pour the milk into a large heavy pot, stir in the salt and place over medium heat. Stirring the milk occasionally, heat until it reaches 185°F. Stir in the vinegar and turn the heat down to low. You will almost immediately begin to see white curds separating from yellowish whey. At this point, do not stir. Your job now is to manage the heat so that you maintain the 185°F (or 5–10 degrees on either side) for 20 minutes. This allows the curds to rest and set up.

Remove the pot from the heat and, using the slotted spoon or spider, carefully scoop the curds into the cheesecloth-lined colander set over a bowl. Once all the curds are transferred to the colander, you can strain the remaining whey through a separate mesh strainer and save, along with the whey collected in the bowl, for future use.

The ricotta can be eaten right away, strained further for a dryer texture and/or kept in a sealed container in the refrigerator for several days.

This story and recipe appeared in the Spring 2024 issue.