Last night at Delfina I sat by myself at the counter and made a new friend: mezzano, a playful mix of cow and goat milks. It's from Friuli, one of those Italian mountain areas, and it tastes the way you would expect—like cows and goats grazing on tender grass at a high altitude, surrounded by rocky outcroppings. It's tangy and creamy, yet has a strong, rugged character, just like a mountain range. You taste it and you think of Giorgione's shepherd, standing watch over the storm. It's not unlike a mancheog; Delfina served it with quince paste. It's the kind of cheese that makes you glad you're sitting at the counter, just you and mezzano, rather than sitting at the table next to you, where the man keeps stroking his goatee as he bores his companions.