The Halloumi Conundrum

By Soraya Kishtwari

Whether you call it Χαλλούμι, halloumi or hellim, this rubbery, salty and chewy Cypriot cheese could not have gotten the European PDO stamp of approval without the successful collaboration between Greek and Turkish Cypriots. Photo by Anatoliy Smaga, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

I inadvertently stumbled ink first into a diplomatic row involving Cyprus, Europe and the United Kingdom. 

It was 2014, and I was a political reporter based in Westminster, land of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. Member of Parliament Dr. Liam Fox told me that one of his constituents had successfully secured $290,000 funding from the European Union to start producing halloumi cheese at his farm in sought-after Abbots Leigh, a quintessential English village on the outskirts of Bristol city in England’s southwest. 

I thought it would be a good, wholesome local news story about British-made halloumi that would stand out among the mass-produced industrial cheeses. After all, U.K. sales of halloumi had outstripped sales everywhere outside of Cyprus, representing 44 percent of the market. At the time, halloumi exports were worth $81 million annually. Within five years, this figure would jump almost threefold to $222 million, according to the Cyprus Trade Center.

The plan was to make a quality product using 100 percent sheep or goats’ milk, as per the traditional Cypriot recipe. Here was a British dairy farmer, of Cypriot descent, about to produce a cheese beloved by Brits, using local ingredients.

When Dr. Fox’s constituent farmer Michael Michael threatened me with a lawsuit for potential losses to dissuade me from pursuing an article, I uncovered a much bigger story.

Protected Origins

The Foundation for the Protection of the Traditional Cheese of Cyprus Named Halloumi and the Republic of Cyprus had been caught up in a drawn-out battle with the European Commission (EC) to register its cheese as a Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) under EU law, meaning only halloumi made in Cyprus could be marketed abroad under that name. By making geography a key indicator of halloumi, PDO’s Cypriot supporters hoped to do for halloumi what the Italians had done for mozzarella di bufala Campana and the Greeks for feta. 

Reasons for the delay included disagreements between sheep and goat farmers regarding the ratio of milk required to produce an authentic halloumi cheese, with serious concerns that many producers would be unable to meet the minimum requirement of 51 percent goat’s and sheep’s milk, which is due to kick in in 2024. 

Geopolitics and application of the PDO was another factor that risked souring, as equal consideration was given to both Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots, with the latter having lived in the northern half of the island ever since Ankara invaded in 1974, splitting the Mediterranean island along ethnic lines, physically represented today by the Green Line. (Since Cyprus joined the EU in 2004, only the southern government has ever been officially recognized by member states, with its rules and regulations only applying to the Republic of Cyprus.)

The disagreements left the barn door wide open for farmers outside Cyprus, like Michael, to make their own versions of the cheese. It was in this context that my article was received. The subject dominated parliamentary debates, newspaper articles, and television appearances. A telling interview with the Minister for Agriculture Nicos Kouyialis made clear why Michael had become so aggressive at the prospect of his venture making the news. 

“There is no reason for panic,” he told Cypriot Sigma television, “we are certain there was no submission of a trademark to produce halloumi.

In an odd twist of fate, a close Cypriot friend of mine called me to say her uncle wanted to speak to me regarding my article. Her uncle, it turned out, was Cyprus’ Agriculture Minister.

Britain’s departure from the EU brought further turmoil, with Brexit evoking fear of price hikes on PDO items such as halloumi, gorgonzola and prosciutto, amid concerns of issues with supply chains.

Then covid-19-hit. 
By the time Cypriot halloumi was finally granted PDO status, which came into effect in October 2021, pandemic restrictions resulting in mass lockdowns and a paralyzed hospitality and tourism industry resulted in the first-ever drop in exports, after 15 years of growth. Last November, the Cypriot government revealed it needed to offload a 6 million-kilo-stockpile of the cheese, much of which is currently stored in deep freeze facilities across the U.K.

“As the U.K. is our biggest market, and we do not have enough freezers on the island, it made sense to export it to the U.K., with the products being ready to hit shelves once demand rises,” says George Petrou of the Dairy Producers Association. “Hopefully, this will happen once all covid restrictions are lifted.”

The move, which marked the end of a seven-year-long campaign, was hailed as a “milestone day for halloumi and for our country,” by Cypriot President Nicos Anastasiades. 

The EC, meanwhile, acknowledged halloumi’s “cultural value” and chose to highlight the political significance the PDO label afforded. The PDO covers all parts of the island and allows agricultural products to move between Turkish Cyprus and Greek Cyprus for the purpose of making halloumi, which the EC describes as a “highly symbolic step” in relations between the two. 

In the case of Northern Cyprus, one in five residents depends on halloumi for their livelihoods, which accounts for 36 percent of its exports, despite an international embargo blocking trade to Europe. Cheesemakers consisting of small family-run enterprises, made up of goat and sheep farmers and shepherds, felt their pleas had finally been heard.

The Drawbacks

Not everyone agreed there was cause to celebrate, least of all the Pan Cyprian Organization of Cattle Breeders who were concerned about the impact the PDO will have on their segment of the market. The group warned the island did not have enough goats and sheep to keep up with demand, with some producers resorting to importing sheep and goats’ milk from elsewhere.  

The group was also unhappy that the PDO did not cover low-fat and flavored varieties, effectively allowing their manufacture outside Cyprus. 

The Cyprus Dairy Producers Association added its voice to the discontent, predicting a fall in halloumi sales from the current $386 million a year to $113 million. The group is concerned that the 2024 regulation stating the cheese must be 51 percent goat’s or sheep’s milk will cause a shortage, jeopardizing their ability to continue exporting their products in large quantities.

“These losses will lead to the destruction of the entire dairy industry, livestock, and agriculture at a huge cost to the local economy,” it said in a statement.

The hot topic continues to take up parliamentary time as the Cypriot government tries to assuage industry fears ahead of the 2024 minimum milk quota date. Current Agriculture Minister Costas Kadis told the Parliamentary Committee on Agriculture in February that consultations with the country’s dairy farmers were ongoing, with a number of possible changes being submitted in relation to halloumi’s PDO status. 

One solution envisaged is the coexistence of halloumi produced under the PDO label and another produced using the trademark that some manufacturers owned prior to its geographic designation, allowing for nontraditional and flavored alternatives. 

Even if Cyprus finds a way to satisfy breeders across the dairy divide and convince the European Commission to agree to the changes, it’s hard to see how its condition to keep halloumi made from mostly sheep’s and/or goat’s milk from appearing on the same shelf as nongraded halloumi will work in practice. 

The appearance of mozzarella di bufala alongside its industrial cousin, regular mozzarella, has never been an issue for discerning consumers who generally know the difference. Why would halloumi be any different? Anyone who’s tasted a quality produced halloumi and then happens to have the misfortune of purchasing a poorer imitation will not be swayed by price point alone. 

The never-ending debate on what constitutes halloumi also raises questions about a program that values culinary homogenization above plurality, whilst at the same time trying to underscore a product’s uniqueness against a flooded market of copycat items. What if an heirloom family recipe that goes back generations and is no less labor-intensive than other artisanal cheeses has demonstrated that 40 percent goat or sheep’s milk is enough to produce a fine halloumi? However unlikely, could attempts to bring Northern Cyprus production in line with European standards of hygiene and food security affect what makes hellim special?

Still—whether you call it Χαλλούμι, halloumi or hellim—this rubbery, salty and chewy Cypriot cheese could not have gotten the European PDO stamp of approval without the successful collaboration between Greek and Turkish Cypriots. But as the ongoing cheese diplomacy demonstrates, the agreement could still crumble if a compromise isn’t found (across breeder types, as much as across North and South). Much like trying halloumi, the real proof of the program, however, will always be in the taste. When applied and leveraged effectively, ensuring predictability in quality for consumers rather than uniformity in taste, PDO statuses have shown to bring just rewards for its benefactors, who benefit from a markup that comes from producing a premium product. 

A British cheese hailing from the southwest of England, incidentally, might hold the answers on how best to reframe the halloumi PDO label. West Country Farmhouse Cheddar’s PDO is sufficiently vague, it allows for cheese made by both artisanal producers, who value character and terroir, and commercial manufacturers, who depend more on consistency and volume, with geography being the only common denominator.  

If certification for Cyprus’ iconic cheese works and results in increased economic prosperity for all stakeholders, talks of a two-state solution become all the more appetizing. Something to chew over, when you next pick up your packet of brine-ripened halloumi.