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Hollis prepared the rennet and citric acid, then set the milk up to boil. Cheesemaking wasn’t his favorite, it was more of his ma’s thing. But he could make mozzarella, cream cheese, and ricotta if they wanted to have lasagna.

Mrs. Brown could stretch milk and cream out into yogurt and sour cream, buttermilk, farmer’s wheel cheese, and that bitter white cheddar his father liked to open on New Year’s Eve every year. There was even an experimental Parmesan moldering away in the root cellar.

But mozzarella was easy; anyone could make it.

They had onion soup with firm white slices of it for dinner, and he shredded a bit of it to make a cheese pizza with store-bought sauce the next day. Mr. Brown packed some of it to take with him wherever he went during the week. He pressed his big hand onto Hollis’s shoulder as he passed through the room.

Hollis went to bed Sunday night warm and full.