This Alpine path leads up to where farmers milk their cows and make cheese that tastes of sunshine and long green grass with flowers. We hike up just when the cows come home from a day of grazing.
Here comes Magda. Her name’s in her ear, on a piece of yellow plastic, like an earring. She’s gorgeous in her spotted coat.
Sweet Milva follows next. We admire her horns which swirl gracefully around her ears. Donna and Emilia trot along after, heading straight to the stone building for relief from the milk that weighs them down.
In a dank stone cellar, the farmer’s slender daughter sells us our favorite cheese. Called Latt Brusc in the dialect of these parts, it is dense, like cheesecake, with a smoky center and a rough black rind. Tonight we’ll savor it at dessert with honey–also from these parts–and hazelnuts.