Or, more specifically for our purposes today, a terrific grating cheese from Argentina called Parmigiano Reggianito.
Any similarity to Italy's great Parmigiano Reggiano is purely intentional. Apparently, the cheese owes its existence to Italian migrant workers jonesing for a taste of home. These hungry ex-pats settled in Argentina, but left their hearts--or at least their palates--in Emilia-Romagna.
While it's tempting to dismiss the South American as a new-world knock-off, it's much closer in character to its namesake than to the insipid contents of a certain ubiquitous green-foil can.
In fact, the "little reggiano" is perfectly serviceable for grating on pasta and whipping into omelets. It lacks the original's complex, creamy granularity and aromatic, fruity bite. But at $7.99 per pound (vs. upwards of $18 for the real deal), it also spares you a bite to the wallet.
For me, the most happily ironic side effect is how it's put the big PR on a pedestal, where it belongs. Genuine Parmigiano Reggiano is far too grand and special to be grated and stirred into anything short of risotto ai tartufi neri. Take a bite next time you're grating up a batch for pasta, and try to tell me I'm wrong.
It's like the difference between a fine riserva Chianti classico, an '83 Badia a Coltibuono, say, and a declassified sangiovese. You'd never pour the former into a pot to make bolognese, but you reasonably expect the everyday stuff that you're cooking with to be palatable and worthwhile on its own.
And this little Argentine is certainly all that.