For many centuries, the names of Anthony and Cleopatra have provided food for thought. Those with an historical bent can chew over what role the Egyptian queen played in Rome's decline.

The literary may savor retellings of their doomed romance by Shakespeare, Dryden and Shaw. And, for those with campier tastes, there are Liz and Dick, and their magnificent mess of a movie that nearly bankrupted 20th Century Fox in 1963.

Whatever your appetite, however, Anthony and Cleopatra probably haven't conjured images of cheese.

Though well they might. For legend has it that during the idle hours the lovers cruised the Nile on barges pulled by water buffalo, they feasted on a sweet, puddinglike cheese made from the buffalo's milk. Rumors of the cheese's aphrodisiac qualities quickly spread throughout the empire, and its popularity has grown steadily ever since. In many ways, however, what we now call mozzarella is still deeply mysterious.

First of all, there's the issue of nomenclature. Similar to the blithe way Americans refer to any white wine with fermented bubbles as "champagne" (much to France's dismay), so do we infuriate Italians by dubbing any cheese splayed across pizza as "mozzarella."

Italian law takes a much firmer line, declaring that only cheese made with buffalo milk can be called mozzarella; cheese made from the identical process but with cow's milk is called fior di latte or flower of milk.

Until relatively recently, almost all of what we call mozzarella in the United States was actually made with cow's milk. And, the type most readily available was a bastardized "low-moisture" variety, meaning less than 50 percent fluid, made to U.S. Department of Agriculture specifications, which could be shrink-wrapped and stored indefinitely on a grocer's shelf. (You'll recall the mortarlike topping on grandmother's parmagiana?) On the contrary, high-moisture buffalo mozzarella, which is more than 52 percent fluid, is softer, smoother and altogether perishable - usually lasting no more than a week after it's made.

The American appetite for buffalo mozzarella, imported from Southern Italy, has steadily grown over the last decade. It is now available in several specialty shops around Baltimore.

"I like to marinate it in fresh pesto," said Ellie Cohen, executive chef at the Combalou Cheese Shop on Calvert Street. "Because buffalo mozzarella is so incredibly white, it really makes a beautiful presentation."

After a trip through Italy she took not too long ago, Cohen, who prefers to be called Chef Ellie, was inspired to combine regional cuisine from Maryland and Italy in a Roasted Red Pepper and Crab Lasagna entree she invented.

Though no one knows precisely when or how mozzarella came to be discovered, Romans were making something similar to it by 60 A.D. Back then, it was most likely made from sheep's milk. Not until the water buffaloes, which roamed wild in southeastern Asia, were introduced into Southern Italy in the 16th century was the cheese we know today invented. Then as now, the low, broad and marshy plains south of Naples in the province of Salerno are home to Italy's highest concentration of water buffalo.

It was here, earlier this year, that Gianfranco Polito, owner of a farm in Capaccio, welcomed a group of visitors and introduced them to his herd. In response to the continuing invasion of American fast-food restaurants all across Italy, many towns like Capaccio now participate in what's called the "Slow Food" movement, and welcome taste-testing tourists (both Italians and foreigners), who want to learn more about the country's traditional cuisine.

Polito explained the buffalo diet and its unique advantages. "What gives buffalo milk its 'bouquet' is the bacteria naturally found in the dirt and grass eaten by animals who graze in the wild," he said. "Buffalo who eat processed feed will produce a much blander cheese than [those who are] allowed to eat freely."

The signor also had disparaging things to say about America's obsession with pasteurization, a process he summarily dismissed. "Pasteurization is the murder of a cheese's flavor," he said.

For obvious reasons, all the buffalo in this milk-producing herd were female. A pregnant buffalo (no males, or studs, are necessary, as the cows are artificially inseminated) has a goiterlike pouch of flesh hanging at her neck that supplements the amount of fat in her milk. How much fluid she produces depends on where the animal is in her gestation and birthing cycle.

There are milkings twice a day, at 4 a.m. and 3 p.m., and the two batches are blended together before the cheese-making begins at the nearby case ficio or cheese house.

The making of mozzarella is a fascinating process to witness. As with all cheeses, it is the introduction of rennet - a digestive enzyme taken from the stomach of a young calf - that will cause freshly squeezed milk to coagulate into curds. Watery refuse called whey (yes, as in Little Miss Muffet, sitting on her tuffet) is ladled off, while the curds are allowed to form into thick, porous slabs.

Eventually, these slabs are diced into smaller chunks and blended with scalding water. As this occurs, the curds suddenly congeal into a glistening mass that has the elastic appearance of saltwater taffy.

At this point, the cheese must be pulled apart by hand, a process called mozzatura, which is what gives mozzarella its name. It must be done quickly, so a group of eight men gather around a large stainless-steel tub, their arms submerged up to the elbow in hot, brined water.

Because the cheese is slippery to handle, it appears as if they are fishing without hooks. The men laugh and joke with each other, perhaps to allay the oddness of working in such intimate proximity.

Water churns and splashes as hunks of cheese are ripped from the main mass and manipulated manually so that a "skin" forms around the outside of each globule, allowing each ball of cheese to hold its shape.

A few moments later, Matteo Palmieri, one of the men who'd been working so furiously a moment earlier, offers a taste of dripping-wet mozzarella. Buffalo milk is whiter than white, so the cheese it makes resembles nothing so much as a snowball. This purity of color carries over into a remarkably fresh flavor: mild, sweet, with just the slightest hint of salt.

There is more than a bit of magic to this, as Palmieri is quick to admit. "We don't know why exactly mozzarella forms into these perfectly smooth shapes. It's been happening for thousand of years, but no one, not even the chemists, can explain it," he said.

Only after a several-year apprenticeship did Palmieri learn for himself through hands-on experience how the process occurred. "It's actually a little like falling in love," he concluded. "It just happens."

So, buffalo mozzarella, like romance, operates by rules better understood by the heart than the mind.

That, of course, is a sentiment Anthony and Cleopatra knew all too well.

Where to buy

Buffalo mozzarella, imported from various towns throughout Southern Italy, is available at the following stores in Baltimore:

Sutton Place Gourmet, 1809 Reisterstown Road. 410-484-5501

Combalou Cheese Shop, 818 N. Calvert St. 410-528-1117

Whole Foods Market, 1330 Smith Ave. 410-532-6700

Chef Ellie's Crab and Roasted Pepper Lasagna

Preparation time: 1/2 hour; cooking time: 45 minutes

Serves 8

20 lasagna noodles

2 large red peppers, thinly sliced

1 large onion, thinly sliced

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 pounds ricotta cheese

1 cup shredded domestic mozzarella

2 eggs

1/2 cup chopped parsley

2 garlic gloves, minced

1 teaspoon nutmeg

salt and pepper, to taste

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup flour

1 quart half-and-half

1/2 cup dry sherry

1 1/2 pounds lump crab meat

1/2 pound buffalo mozzarella, sliced into thin discs

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cook lasagna noodles in salted water until they are nearly al dente. Drain and plunge into a bowl of ice water. Saute red peppers and onion in olive oil in fry pan over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until they are wilted, about 10 minutes. Make cheese mixture by combining ricotta cheese, domestic mozzarella, eggs, parsley, garlic, nutmeg, salt and pepper.

Make bechamel sauce by combining butter and flour in a fry pan over medium-low heat. When butter and flour are a smooth paste, or roux, gradually stir in half-and-half and sherry. Whisk together for several minutes till smooth and heated through.

Assemble lasagna in a 9-inch by 13-inch baking pan. Cover bottom of pan with a thin layer of bechamel, and layer on four noodles. Top this with sprinkled layer of cheese mixture, crab, pepper and onions, and douse with more bechamel.

Repeat layering, eventually using all the cheese, crab, pepper and onion, and ending with a layer of noodles. Top this with last bit of bechamel, and then cover all with discs of buffalo mozzarella.

Bake covered with foil for 30 minutes, and uncovered for an additional 15 minutes. Let sit outside oven for 10 minutes before serving.