All about Halloumi
Certain cheeses inspire passion in people. Think heady hunks of booze-infused Rogue River Blue, only available in fall, or rounds of dippable Epoisses, the raw-milk washed-rind that inspires tourists to stink up their luggage with delicious contraband on their way out of France.
Brined and bone-white, halloumi may be humbler than these pungent wheels, but its fandom is no less fervent. Known for the ability to keep its shape in the face of high heat, halloumi—also known as hellim in its native Cyprus—makes up a huge part of its country’s agricultural output, ranking as its fifth-largest export in 2018. There, halloumi (also known as hellim) was traditionally made by villagers pooling raw milk from their goats and sheep in large groups and often spiked with mint, initially to help preserve it and now to enhance its sharp, salt-forward flavor. Cypriots often eat the cheese uncooked, but it’s best known for its seemingly magical ability to keep its shape—and get even more delicious—when exposed to high heat.
Halloumi and other fry-able cheeses like paneer from India, leipäjuusto (“bread cheese”) from Finland, and queso de freir, made across Latin America, get this incredible attribute due to the way they’re produced. What determines when and how a cheese melts, a few different factors come into play: moisture is one of them, and pH is another. Cheeses that are higher in moisture and fat tend to melt more easily and more smoothly: Between a young Gouda versus a two-year-aged hunk of firm, crumbly Beemster XO, for example, the former makes a great melter in your mac ‘n’ cheese. The latter can be grated in to add flavor, but it won’t give you the soft, pleasantly oozy texture you crave.
The primary factor at play in halloumi and its grillable cousins, though, is pH—the acidity of a cheese—which can affect its structure. The solids in cheese are primarily protein and fat, which are held together by the calcium found in milk. Acid dissolves that calcium structure. So cheeses with a higher pH (lower acidity) don’t melt well because the calcium is still holding them together. Cheeses with a lower pH (higher acidity) like paneer also don’t melt well, because although the calcium has been dissolved, the acid holds their structure together. We reach for cheeses with a pH in the middle of this range when we’re looking for smooth, rich sauces and dramatic cheese pulls.
Low acidity enables a cheese like halloumi to be seared, fried, or grilled over high heat while maintaining its shape long enough to develop a crisp, deliciously caramelized brown crust and a warm, bouncy paste that squeaks against your teeth when you bite in. But other aspects of its production also make halloumi unique: Typically, no starter cultures are added to the milk to drop the pH, unlike many cheese recipes.
After the milk is warmed, rennet coagulates the milk into a gel-like curd, which is then cut, stirred, and gently heated to drive out whey. Then, another signature step: the curds and whey are heated again, this time to just below boiling, which helps kill any lactic acid bacteria that may produce acid and leach calcium during the aging process. This also helps the cheese maintain its signature sturdy structure when grilled or fried after aging in a whey-based salt brine.
But halloumi doesn’t have to be heated to shine. A good-quality Cypriot variety can also be enjoyed uncooked as a table cheese, as it is in Cyprus, or used in dishes like watermelon salad or even grated onto other dishes as well as being fried to a tender, squeaky crisp.
However, many of the low-cost versions found in the US and UK are mass-produced in Eastern Europe, as Anthony Heard, cheesemaker at Kupros Dairy in London, told Vittles earlier this year. Heard’s Anglum, made with sheep’s milk, is meant to represent true Cypriot halloumi in a UK market that’s ravenous for low-cost, mass-produced versions of the product—so much so that there was a shortage of the beloved cheese there in 2019.
Since Anglum isn’t available in the US, though, what’s the best halloumi you can buy? Whatever it is, you’re likely to pay dearly for it at supermarkets and Middle Eastern grocers, even for lower-quality versions produced outside Cyprus. So why not find a domestic variety made by a small-scale producer and put your food dollars there?
My personal favorite American take on halloumi is Ironweed, made with cow’s milk by Valley Milkhouse, a tiny one-woman creamery located outside Philadelphia—but it’s hard to come by outside of Southeast Pennsylvania. In Austin, Texas, Bee Tree Farm’s goat’s milk halloumi-style cheese is available for sale, while Washington-based Lost Peacock Creamery makes an award-winning goat halloumi for sale in and around Olympia, Tacoma, and Seattle. Black Rose Creamery’s goat milk version is another well-reviewed domestic variety, available for sale in southeastern Vermont or online.
Wherever you get your halloumi, though, my favorite way to prepare it is to sear planks of the cheese not in olive or vegetable oil, but in ghee. In addition to a high smoke point—meaning you can get a good caramelized crust on the cheese without setting off your fire alarm—ghee (or clarified butter) gives your halloumi a beautiful sear while boosting its savory, briny flavors with a buttery richness.
As for how to serve it? Cool slightly and cut into sticks or cubes to toss in salads, serve it over grilled or roasted veggies, or make it the main protein in your favorite sandwich recipe. In my kitchen, though, the ripping hot, crackly brown slices rarely make that far.
All you really need is a pinch of flaky sea salt—maybe a dollop of sweet-tart fruit preserves or a few lashings of hot sauce—and the patience to wait until your hot cheese is cool enough to dig in.