What happened to the good feta?

Philadelphia's King of Cheese used to stock only one Greek feta in his South Philadelphia realm: a pungent and creamy creation of mountain shepherds. A briny curd called Dodoni.

That's because Claudio Specialty Foods, like others in the know, considered it the good stuff. A white wonder straight from Greece, where the crumbly cheese made an ancient cameo in Homer's Odyssey and has reigned ever since.

In a global sea of feta impostors, Dodoni was a sheep's-milk standout demanded by natives.

"Greeks!" exclaimed Vladimir Hajdari, whose N&E Agora in Northeast Philadelphia is an agora of Grecian fare. "Nobody buys the Dodoni but the Greeks."

A clash of curds, though, recently sent the blocky brand missing from its choice sales spots in Philadelphia, one of the nation's largest Greek population centers.

What had happened to the good feta?

The country's most famous fromage, founded by the Greek government after World War II, had been felled by intrigue and business brass knuckles, against the backdrop of a Greek economy in near collapse:

A government bank on the brink. The Dodoni dairy teetering, too. Russian investors to the rescue. Privatization of Dodoni as Greece went broke. A federal lawsuit in New Jersey. And Philadelphia cheesemongers, like Claudio's, in the lurch.

"Who owns them now? Is it Greek? Is it Russian?" asked chef and Greek food historian Diane Kochilas. "Even Greeks in the food industry don't really know what's going on."

The case of the missing Dodoni, though, really comes down to this one thing. Greece's biggest cheese is trying to reposition itself to become Big Cheese in America.

Buying good feta in the United States has become something of an Olympic sport.

It used to be that a Greek went to the nearest little Greek shop and asked the immigrant behind the counter to cut a wedge from a giant wooden barrel imported from the old country.

"Vareli," the customer would say, meaning: "barrel," where the best stuff would be steeped in brine.

There were thousands of immigrants in New York, Chicago, Boston, and Philadelphia after the German occupation of Greece during World War II. Feta had followed them off the boat.

But the same people who introduced the world to democracy did not spread their national cheese across America. Parmesan, Camembert, and Brie became commonplace, while good feta from Greece got only harder to find as the immigrant generation died off.

So when Dodoni hit U.S. shores in 1984, it was a big deal.

The Agricultural Bank of Greece owned the Dodoni dairy alongside a cooperative of shepherds from the Epirus region of Greece. It had the firepower to dominate supermarkets in Greece while aiming to also reach diaspora diehards abroad.

Dodoni anointed a Greek-owned importer named Fantis Foods Inc. in Carlstadt, N.J., as exclusive distributor. Through small shops or ethnic food vendors, it became well-known.

"Of all the Greek feta right now that comes into the country, it's one of the best," said DiBruno Bros. vice president Emilio Mignucci.

"It's the standard-bearer for Greek feta, especially in the United States," said Kochilas, the food historian. "It's a feta that I use if I want an assurance of consistency, of quality."

Not all feta is created equal. Denmark, Germany, France, and the United States make it, too, but often with cow's milk, which is not how it is made in Homer's homeland.

In 2006, the European Union granted Greek-made feta "protected designation of origin" (PDO) status. Only feta made mostly with sheep's milk and in certain regions of Greece could carry the feta name in Europe. Non-Greek feta could still be sold as "feta" in America.

For Dodoni, the victory in Europe would not be savored for long. Near-catastrophe was around the corner.

In 2008, the Agricultural Bank was in trouble. So, too, was Dodoni, its sales battered by the quaking global economy, its more than 5,000 goat and sheep farmers desperate to sell their milk.

In 2010, the country itself sought the first of many bailouts.

The government soon put up the bank's assets for auction. An investment group with offices in Moscow and Helsinki - Strategic Initiatives Capital Partners - swept in.

"There were many bidders, including all the leading dairy players around the world," said Tom Seepers, a partner in the private equity firm who also serves as chief executive of Dodoni S.A. He said Dodoni was the first successful privatization in Greece that year.

So who exactly are the new owners of Greece's leading feta producer?

One of the firm's partners founded a Soviet Union-era dairy and juice company that was sold for billions a few years ago. This group immediately shook things up at Dodoni. In 2013, a new management team hired Arthur Schuman Inc., a big-wheel cheese distributor in New Jersey, to handle Dodoni.

Schuman had relationships with Costco and would, hopefully, also expand Dodoni's reach to other giant retailers across the country.

Tossed aside was Fantis, which had long supplied even smaller outposts like Claudio's, DiBruno, and N&E Agora.

Fantis fought back by suing Dodoni last year in federal court in New Jersey.

And that's about when Philadelphia vendors could suddenly no longer get their hands on the cheese.

"They just didn't know where to get it from," said Jerry Makris, vice president of Fantis.

Claudio's and the Greek-owned food distributor Astra Foods in Upper Darby gave up on Dodoni.

Even now that it's back - returned in recent months - both merchants say they can't afford to buy 1,000 pounds per delivery, as required by Schuman.

"In all honesty, we're not set up to work directly with mom-and-pop shops," said Ian Schuman, specialty cheese category manager for Arthur Schuman. He had hoped that retailers would instead order from a middle man, but that brings a markup to an already pricey product.

Local feta fiends have embraced the competition: Krinos feta at Claudio's, and Minerva Horio and Exarhos brands at Astra Foods.

"People accepted it," said Astra owner Demos Vasiliou.

Even though Dodoni is back at N&E Agora, it now shares shelf space with Krinos. The added competition comes just as Dodoni prepares its own assault on U.S. taste buds, and even others sense opportunity in the marketplace.

DiBruno's is three years into working a deal to get its own feta to Philadelphia from a convent of nuns on the Greek island of Lesbos.

And Dodoni is about to unleash a push to occupy mainstream stores across America.

As early as next year, Dodoni will start showing up on shelves across America, bringing authentic Greek feta to a mass audience.

"Slowly," said Seepers, the CEO of Dodoni, "in the rest of the world, I think people are waking up to this potential."

mpanaritis@phillynews.com

215-854-2431 @Panaritism