A House Without Cheese Isn't a Home

One of my favorite rituals when I arrive at our home in Italy is stocking the fridge. Not just with essentials like milk or eggs. With cheese.

I'll admit it: I have a problem. The moment I land in Piemonte, I'm mentally cataloging which formaggi I need to replenish and which new ones I'll hunt down at the next market or festival. A stop at Formaggi di Guido for some stracciatella. A Montebore from Roberto. Whatever the artisan at the weekend market convinces me I absolutely cannot live without. (They're very persuasive. Or I'm very weak. Probably both.)

By the time I'm done, my fridge looks less like sensible meal planning and more like I'm preparing for a cheese-themed apocalypse. But here's the thing: that's when I know I'm home. Not when I unpack my suitcase or open the shutters. When the cheese drawer is full.

My character Maddie Cole feels the same way. I can't help but give Maddie some of my own beliefs, and this cheese one is very true. In Out of Time, when Nate teases her about all the cheese she has stashed in her kitchen, she tells him, "A house without cheese isn't a home."

He points out he's never heard that expression.

"I made it up," she admits. "But I believe it to be true."

I love that exchange because it captures something essential about Maddie. She's an engineer who spent her career in rooms where she wasn't supposed to belong, doing work people said women couldn't do. When Nate asks if she makes up a lot of her own rules, her answer is pure Maddie: "Isn't that better than having to break other people's rules?"

The older I get, the more I appreciate that philosophy. Why fight against someone else's framework when you can simply build your own?

And food is where we often do this most naturally. Leftovers taste better standing at the fridge at midnight. Tomatoes don't belong in the refrigerator. You never show up to someone's home empty-handed. We all have our non-negotiables.

Nate insists that crab cakes should fall apart because if they don't, there's too much filler. Maddie insists a house without cheese isn't a home. I insist on stocking enough formaggi to survive a small apocalypse.

My husband has learned not to comment on my purchases. He knows that questioning my cheese acquisitions is a losing battle.

"Are you really going to be able to eat all of that before it's time for us to go home?"

"I just want to have options," I tell him. "Some Taleggio for making that pasta with zucchini you like, 40-month Parmigiano for our aperitivo, that really lovely goat cheese..." If there are leftovers, I'll leave them with one of my neighbours who will happily use them up.

This trip, the universe rewarded my obsession. My first dinner out after arriving was at Agriturismo Ca' dell'Aglio for their Serata dei Formaggi, a cheese-themed evening. The menu description promised "a convivial, indulgent, unhurried gathering for those who love to sit at the table, share, and be surprised by a selection of different flavors." They weren't exaggerating.

Seven courses. All cheese.

It started with crispy cheese baskets, fried cheese pearls, and fonduta served with crostini. Then a savory tart with brie, pears, and walnuts. For primi, risotto ai quattro formaggi and gnocchi with Montebore (a local treasure). The secondi brought polenta with Gorgonzola and a selection of mixed cheeses with honey and compote. And for dessert? Cheesecake, naturally.

Sitting at that long table at Ca' dell'Aglio, working my way through a plate of polenta con Gorgonzola, I remembered writing about Maddie making that same dish for Nate. And I thought about her philosophy on rules, one that had sprung from my own imagination. The rules we make up for ourselves often reveal more about who we are than the ones we follow. Maddie decided a house without cheese isn't a home. I've decided that seven courses of cheese counts as a balanced meal.

So I'm curious: what's your made-up rule about food and home? The thing that might sound silly if you said it out loud, but that you believe to be absolutely true?

I'd love to hear it.

M. Jacqueline Murray is the award-winning author of the Maddie & Nate series. She divides her time between homes in the USA, Canada, and Italy, where her cheese consumption remains entirely unregulated.