Pig Out

Happy pig in the Sierra del Norte (Andalusia)

Ah yes, the sweetness of being a black Iberian pig. What could be better than spending your days in the gently sloping hills of Extremadura or Andalusia, taking a siesta in a shady clump of bushes when the temperature rises, making strange barking sounds at passersby before toddling off to the next mouthful?

Because that's what it's all about in the life of a black Iberian pig—stuffing yourself. And how convenient that the thing you like best grows on trees spread across your meadow like polka dots on a summer dress. In fact, this gnarly type of tree, encina or holm oak, owes its very existence in this neck of the woods to you. You munch away on its acorns, and, a few years later, when the meat has been cured to perfection, people munch away on your hind legs. That's the deal. Of course, you won't find out about that until the man with the lorry comes to whisk you off to the slaughterhouse.

Jamón ibérico de bellota is to the Spaniard what caviar is to the Russian or foie gras to the Frenchman (albeit somewhat less controversial). Many people know how to appreciate this type of cured ham, few can afford it. Twenty euro buys you about 150 grams, enough for a bocadillo or two. But then we're talking about the prepackaged kind you find in supermarkets.

Not-so-happy pig being butchered by me

Making my way through Extremadura last November, I had the chance to try a few wafer-thin slices. Oh my… It reminded me of the time I had my first proper whisky—half a glass of something terribly old and terribly Scottish, for which I had to cough up an equally terrible amount of money. It was one of these eye-opening moments when you suddenly realise you have been fooled all along. So this is how it's supposed to be, you whisper to yourself. Of course, these experiences spoil you for the rest of your life. Going back to the cheap stuff is like being slapped across the face. Hard.

But the jamón. You'll just have to believe me when I tell you that you can actually taste the pig's strict acorn-only diet. Let's say there's a distinct nuttiness to the flavour. And let's forget that I actually ate an acorn to prove my point.