I was invited to serve as a judge at the World Cheese Competition in São Paulo, and the most curious thing is realizing how life manages to connect dots that once seemed worlds apart.

In addition to my background in industrial pharmacy, I have training in food technology: I’ve made cheese, studied fermentation and aging processes, and watched my aunts prepare artisanal cheeses. Taking part in that competition was like reconnecting with a part of my history.

The scale of the event was impressive: about 2,700 cheeses, more than 400 judges and producers from various parts of Brazil and the world—France, Italy, Switzerland, Denmark, India, Argentina, Mexico, and the United States. But one of the most beautiful things was feeling the strength of Brazil itself.

Producers from the Amazon, from remote rural regions—simple people who poured years of work, tradition, and resilience into a single wheel of cheese.

One story really stuck with me: a female producer crossed a river carrying cheeses on her head after a flood just to make it to the competition. When you hear something like that, you realize that judging a cheese goes far beyond aroma, texture, flavor, or appearance. Every rind, every stage of aging, every flaw or merit carries with it someone’s life.

Alongside this emotional dimension, there was an extremely high technical standard. The competition rules were endorsed by the Guilde Internationale des Fromagers and the Fédération des Fromagers de France, leading institutions in the world of artisanal cheeses. And it was precisely there that you could sense how technique and emotion coexisted in the same space.

We tasted everything: traditional and buffalo mozzarella, stretched-curd cheeses, fresh cheeses, intensely blue-veined cheeses, long-aged hard cheeses, cheeses made from goat’s and sheep’s milk, and many signature Brazilian cheeses. But one of the biggest surprises was the Indian cheeses.

Among them was a semi-hard, pliable “mountain cheese” with fruity and almond notes, entirely coated in dried rose petals—it was impossible not to take a second look.

Perhaps this is precisely what I took away with me: the realization that cheese is never just cheese—it speaks of territory, climate, memory, family, culture, pride, and survival. Seeing it all come together in Itaim, in the heart of São Paulo’s financial district, surrounded by skyscrapers and business meetings, while producers from remote farms presented the work of a lifetime—it was impossible not to be deeply moved.

In the end, what moved me the most was realizing that behind every piece of cheese served at the table, there’s always a story trying to make its way across the world.