I Moved to Italy for the Wine - But I'm Staying for the Cheese!

Okay, technically I haven’t moved yet. But it’s not for lack of trying. Or eating.

I’ve been going to Italy since I was two. That’s not an exaggeration or a cute anecdote — it’s just my origin story. My dad was a cargo ship captain. Italy was on the route. Pasta was served. Somewhere in those early years, between the mystery meats and the Fanta that tasted like sunshine, I imprinted on this country like a duckling.

Like every aging Italophile with a grudge against the U.S. healthcare system, I’ve been daydreaming about moving there permanently. I told myself it was about the wine. The lifestyle. The sheer emotional high of watching someone slice prosciutto like it’s a sacrament.

But it’s not the wine that’s pulling me in.

It’s the cheese.

Five reasons I’m ready to uproot my life and move to Italy — and they’re all staring back at you from this cutting board.

The Slap Heard ‘Round Campo de’ Fiori

My first run-in with real Italian cheese came like a slap. Not a gentle, welcome-to-Europe slap — more like a “why have you been eating rubber your whole life?” kind of slap.

I was in Rome, jet-lagged, cranky, wandering a cramped stall on Campo de’ Fiori, when I spotted a cloudy ball of burrata glistening in a shallow pool of cream. I took it home, hacked it open, and sat in stunned silence as it poured its soul onto my plate.

That was it. Game over. Everything after that has been a slow, dairy-fueled awakening.

Cheeses Worth Starting a New Life Over

Italy has over 400 cheeses. I’ve eaten maybe 30 of them. Which is both impressive and, frankly, disappointing. But these five? These are the ones I keep thinking about in the middle of the night like some kind of lactose-fueled fever dream.

• Taleggio

  Smells like someone died in your refrigerator. Tastes like warm velvet wrapped in funk. It’s a cheese that makes demands, and honestly? I respect that.

• Pecorino Romano

  Grates like a dream, shreds your mouth, and somehow makes you crave more. Aged sheep’s milk salt-bomb that laughs in the face of Parmesan.

• Burrata

  If mozzarella is the responsible sibling with a job and a Roth IRA, burrata is the emotionally unstable artist who shows up late, steals the spotlight, and still makes everyone fall in love.

• Gorgonzola Dolce

  Soft, blue, and just the right amount of weird. Like if cream cheese joined a punk band but still remembered to call its mom.

• Fontina Valdostana

  Melts like it was designed in a lab to soothe your nervous system. The alpine comfort cheese you never knew you needed until it’s 10 p.m. and you’re Googling “how to fonduta without a fondue pot.”

Let’s Not Pretend Wine Isn’t Still Involved

Yes, I still care about the wine. I’m not a barbarian. But wine — for me — has become the supporting act. A talented understudy to the true headliner: fermented milk.

Some no-fail pairings:

• Taleggio → Barbera

• Pecorino → Cannonau (preferably from a Sardinian nonna who will judge you if you ask for ice)

• Burrata → Fiano or anything cold, crisp, and unapologetically drinkable

• Gorgonzola Dolce → Passito di Pantelleria (dessert wine that makes you feel vaguely sinful)

• Fontina → Nebbiolo, Pinot Nero, or just mulled over your poor life decisions

The best part? You don’t need to be fancy about it. Italians don’t break into a cold sweat over perfect pairings. You eat, you sip, you shrug, you go back for seconds.

Two Recipes for the Cheese-Obsessed

Because until I live within walking distance of a man who hand-stretches mozzarella at dawn, I’m recreating what I can at home.

Cacio e Pepe (Translation: Let the Pecorino Speak)

Just cheese, pepper, pasta water — and the will to live deliciously.

What you need:

• Spaghetti or Bucatini

• Pecorino Romano (grated finely — not your sad green can)

• Coarsely ground black pepper - in a mortar

• Pasta water

• Zero fear

How to:

1. Boil pasta. Save the water. You’ll need that magic starch.

2. Toast ground pepper in a pan until your kitchen smells like you know what you’re doing.

3. Add pasta and a ladle of water. Kill the heat.

4. Add cheese gradually, stirring like your visa depends on it.

5. It’ll emulsify into creamy perfection — unless it doesn’t. In which case: eat it anyway. It’s still cheese.

Burrata + Blood Orange Salad That Makes You Feel Like You Have Your Life Together

What you need:

• One ball of burrata

• One blood orange, peeled and sliced

• Arugula

• Shelled pistachios

• Olive oil, flaky salt, cracked pepper

How to:

1. Lay down the arugula like you’re composing a still life.

2. Add orange slices and pistachios.

3. Drop the burrata in the center like the diva she is.

4. Drizzle generously with oil. Salt and pepper to taste.

5. Serve with wine and self-satisfaction.

The Real Retirement Plan

At this point, I’ve built spreadsheets about moving to Italy. Tracked exchange rates. Researched regional tax incentives. Debated which town has the best fiber internet and the fewest screaming mopeds.

But deep down, I know the truth: I’m not moving for the logistics.

I’m moving for the cheese.

So yeah — the wine is nice. The landscape is cinematic. The culture? Magical. But the thing that keeps whispering “come back” isn’t some postcard-perfect piazza....

...It’s that damn burrata.

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Craving more?

If you’re serious about building a life abroad — or just want to follow the scent of melting Fontina a little further — subscribe to the newsletter. Every month I break down one Italian region, share expat strategies that actually work, and occasionally lose my mind over cheese.

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