Inverse Spherification - Mozzarella Spheres

You want to do what to my sphere? Inverse it? Well, that’s quite enough of that, thank you very much.

Despite sounding like the name of a prog rock group from the mid 70s or the title of an obscure drum and bass album, inverse spherification is a rather nifty culinary technique.

It may sound scientific (partly because it is) but fear not. There is as much chance of me boggling you with science as there is of George Bush being named Iraq’s Man of the Century.

Spherification is a principle whereby a flavoured liquid is encased in a flavourless skin. Imagine ravioli with invisible pasta and you’re somewhere close. It is a technique perfected by Ferran Adria and one he uses to great effect with his ‘olives’.

Here fresh olives are juiced then strained before being mixed with calcic gluconolactato. The mixture is then spooned into an algin bath where the two chemicals react together, instantly forming a translucent skin which holds in the liquid.



Phew. Still with me? Good.

The effect can be repeated with almost any liquid thus creating a tasty burst of flavour with near infinite possibilities. Imagine dishes that ‘self-sauce’ at exactly the right moment or cocktails that mix in the mouth rather than the shaker. Oh what fun to be had.

For the cauliflower cheese dish, the inspiration came in the form of incredible buffalo mozzarella from Laverstoke Park Farm (A British made mozzarella? Believe it).

Whilst it tastes superb unadorned, oozing freshness from within the delicious pale orb, I was desperate to try Adria’s method for making mozzarella spheres.

Previous attempts at spherification had yielded mixed results varying from partial failure to complete and utter failure. Only when I found a thread on eGullet about the effect of hardwater on algin baths did I realise what was going wrong. The natural lime present in the water was setting the algae extract and creating a jelly.

Enter bottled water and, huzzah! Success. No more jellies.

The cheese (125g) was blended with a little cream then passed through a sieve before being mixed with about 2g calcic gluconolactato. Spoonfuls were then dropped into the waiting algin bath and fingers were crossed.

The excitement of seeing the spheres set for the first time was truly palpable. I couldn’t hide the smile from my face, neither did I want to. Half expecting the white liquid to ooze out, it was fantastic to see it set instantly into a neat little orb that looked exactly like a mini mozzarella cheese.



The surprise comes when you bite into it – instead of the slight resistance of a semi-solid cheese you get a burst of mozzarella flavour in liquid form. A real revelation and certainly one to try again.

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For UK supplies of the necessary bits and bobs to re-create some Adria inspired dishes try Cream Supplies who have a incredible range.

Laverstoke Park Farm Buffalo Mozzarella

I really didn’t think it was possible to get excited about mozzarella.

An ashed chevre, a gooey vacherin or a wedge of pungent stilton. These are cheeses to get excited about, cheeses with soul, cheeses that will happily slap you round the cheeks, badmouth your siblings and shout obscenities on the way down.

But mozzarella? It has always been something to melt onto a margarita or serve up with a few slices of tomato and some hastily torn basil leaves to create a half-arsed salad. It’s a cheese that might make you a cup of sweet tea whilst showing you a slideshow of their recent trip to the Cotswolds.

Those stringy balls of non-descript, lacklustre cheese suspended, implant like, in saline solution gradually hardening into inedibility? Not worthy of praise. They are barely worthy of pizza.

It might melt into gratifyingly long strings that somehow manage to break just before you run out of arm. And, granted, it can carry other flavours and act as a vehicle for herbs, olive oil or black pepper. But I would never have considered that it could stand on its own and just be, well, a cheese.

Until yesterday.

The luxurious life of a freelance food writer

As I mentioned, I was invited to the official launch of Laverstoke Park Farm’s latest product: a truly British mozzarella made from the milk of free-range water buffalo that graze happily on the Hampshire grasslands of Jody Scheckter’s organic and bio-dynamic farm.


Photo courtesy of Cristian Barnett

Apparently, the secret to good mozzarella is freshness. By the time we pluck it from its salty bath it will be at least a week old. And that’s assuming we have access to a good quality deli. God only knows how long those cosmetic surgery bags that supermarkets manage to pass off as mozzarella have been sat there.

But the fresh stuff is something else. It needs no adornments, no additions, no added extras like oil or pepper. It really is good enough to bite right into to enjoy the unique burst of freshness.


Photo courtesy of Cristian Barnett

The flavour is both gentle and rich, subtle and acidic, soft yet cheeky, without being intrusive and manages to coat and cleanse the palate concurrently.

This cheese wouldn’t make you a cup of sweet tea: it would mix a perfect martini then invite you up for coffee.

In short, it is just really, really good and sure to cause a few ripples in a nation that has grown used to the insipid balls of plasticy pap that float around like the eggs of some bizarre sea creature dreamt up by Jules Verne on a bad day.

Fancy trying it yourself? Just go to the Laverstoke Park Online Farm Shop where you can order it to be delivered straight to your door. And treat yourself to some buffalo steaks while you’re at it – they are as good as, if not better than, the best beef I’ve ever tasted.

Sometimes it pays to be a food blogger.

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