Pecorino Sardo

Pecorino Sardo is a semi-cooked sheep's milk cheese made across the island of Sardinia from the milk of Sarda ewes. The DOP rules define two separate cheeses, and the label must say which one you are buying.

Pecorino Sardo Dolce comes in wheels of 1 to 2.3 kilos, aged 20 to 60 days, with a thin pale rind and a white, elastic, slightly moist paste. Pecorino Sardo Maturo weighs 1.7 to 4 kilos, ages from two months up to a year and beyond, and develops a hard amber rind and a firm, faintly granular paste.

The decisive technical choice is the rennet. Pecorino Sardo is coagulated with calf rennet, not the lamb rennet paste used for Pecorino Romano and Fiore Sardo. Lamb rennet paste carries lipase enzymes that break down milk fat and create sharp, peppery flavours; calf rennet does not. That is why Pecorino Sardo stays sweet-natured even when it is old, and why it was conceived as a cheese to eat rather than a cheese to grate.

It was recognised in Italy in 1991 and granted EU protection in 1996, largely to give the island's own table cheese a defensible identity next to the Roman giant that had taken over its dairies.

The Dolce tastes of fresh sheep's milk: clean, lactic, faintly tangy like good yoghurt, with a buttery weight in the mouth and a short, sweet finish. There is no sharpness at all, and the salt is moderate: it eats like a young Manchego with the oiliness dialled down.

The Maturo is a different register. Six months in, it is savoury and nutty with a lanolin note that says sheep clearly but politely, a mild tingle at the back of the palate and a long finish that recalls toasted almonds. Past a year it picks up a genuine piquancy and small crunchy crystals, though it never reaches the salt-forward aggression of Pecorino Romano.

The texture tells the same story: Dolce slices and melts, Maturo flakes and grates.

Treat Dolce as a slicing and melting cheese. It goes on bread with a drizzle of olive oil, into ravioli and pasta fillings, over hot malloreddus, into a frittata, or under the grill on toast. It melts without stringing or splitting, which is exactly what Pecorino Romano refuses to do.

Treat Maturo as a board and finishing cheese. Shave it over fennel and orange salad, over raw broad beans in spring, or with a spoon of bitter corbezzolo honey. Grate it into bean soups, over fregola, into meatballs. Because it is far less salty than Pecorino Romano, you can be generous with it, but you will also need to add salt yourself.

The useful kitchen rule: in a dish where the pecorino is the loudest ingredient, Romano is the right cheese; where it is one voice among several, Sardo Maturo lets everything else be heard. Both benefit from thirty minutes out of the fridge before serving: cold sheep cheese has almost no aroma.

Dolce sits in the fridge between 4 and 8 °C, wrapped in greaseproof paper or left in the pack it came in, and is generally used within two or three weeks. It carries a lot of water, so cling film against the surface makes it sweat and a slick film gathers within days. Maturo holds far longer, two to three months, wrapped first in a barely damp cloth and then in paper, and over that time it keeps losing water: it hardens, the salt concentrates and it drifts towards the grater.

The cut face dries and turns glassy after a week or so, and scraping it back exposes the paste underneath. A dry white or green bloom on the rind comes away with a cloth dipped in vinegar; anything damp, pink or black is a question for the cheesemonger or the producer. Dolce crumbles on thawing and is not worth freezing, while Maturo takes it in 200 to 300 gram pieces for up to six months. Give either half an hour out of the fridge before serving, because cold it has almost no smell.

The label has to spell out Pecorino Sardo DOP and then the type, Dolce or Maturo; a piece naming no type is not compliant. On the wheel there is a numbered casein plaque, pressed in at moulding and so embedded in the rind rather than stuck on, alongside the Consorzio mark. Dolce has a white paste, moist at the cut but not wet, springy under a finger, with a few small irregular eyes; chalky or floury Dolce acidified badly. Maturo is straw coloured, flakes rather than slices and carries a faint grain, and a piece that bends like a soft caciotta has not spent the months it claims.

Two phrases to distrust at a counter: pecorino sardo in lower case with no DOP, which states origin and nothing more, and semisardo, which often means a sheep and cow milk blend. A black or red rind is a dairy's styling, not a category. Fiore Sardo, sold beside it abroad, is a separate DOP, smoked and made from raw milk.

In the US it is stocked by Italian delis, Murray's Cheese, Eataly and the better supermarket cheese counters, at roughly $14 to $24 per pound depending on type and age. Ask explicitly for Dolce or Maturo: American counters often sell both simply as 'Pecorino Sardo', and the difference matters more than the price does.

In the UK expect £18 to £30 per kilo from Italian delicatessens, La Fromagerie, Ocado and online Italian importers. It is less widely distributed than Pecorino Romano or Toscano, so a specialist cheesemonger is usually the shorter route.

Wherever you buy, check the label for the words Pecorino Sardo DOP plus the type. Lowercase 'sardinian pecorino' or 'sheep cheese from Sardinia' is a description of origin, not a certification. On a whole wheel, look for the numbered casein plate set into the rind at moulding: a printed sticker on its own means nothing.

The Marghine district around Macomer, Thiesi and Bortigali is the densest concentration of dairies on the island, and several run tours through the ageing rooms. Ozieri, in the Logudoro, is the other historic centre, where dairies still collect milk from small flocks.

Inland Barbagia is where to go if you want the cheese and the landscape together. From September to December the Autunno in Barbagia circuit opens the courtyards of villages like Gavoi, Ollolai, Orgosolo and Ovodda in rotation, and the cheeses are tasted where they are made.

On the east coast, Dorgali, Oliena and the Ogliastra have shepherds and agriturismi selling directly. Anywhere on the island, the honest test is an agriturismo dinner: the antipasto will arrive with three or four pecorini at different ages, and the difference between Dolce and Maturo will explain itself in one plate.