(From The New York Times, 17 de enero 2010) Journeys

In Spain, a Delicacy Rooted in Earth and Tradition

By Paola Singer AS we sauntered up the steep, narrow cobblestone streets of Cceres in western Spain, it wasnt hard to imagine life there in the Middle Ages. Night was falling, and before us were Gothic churches, Roman arches and Moorish towers, glowing in the soft light of lanterns. It was an arresting sight, but our thoughts soon veered elsewhere to food and the sumptuous meal we were anticipating. Most people travel to this ancient city for its architectural treasures; my friends and I had come to eat pork. Minutes later, we faced an encyclopedic list of traditional dishes at El Fign de Eustaquio, a family restaurant with jacketed waiters and white tablecloths. For starters, we had a plate of jamn Ibrico de bellota cured ham made from acorn-fed pigs, which is the regional specialty plus a round torta del casar, a creamy sheeps milk cheese enveloped in a hard curd, and giant locally grown white asparagus. Though I considered the herbed pork sirloin as an entree, my friend Joan insisted we order the esoteric-sounding secreto Ibrico, or Iberian secret. This simply presented pork filet, we later learned, comes from a special cut near the front leg thats interspersed with very thin layers of fat. After making all sorts of silly jokes about the curious name of this dish, we ate in complete silence. It was incredibly tender, subtly seasoned and simply delicious. Cceres, in the Extremadura region, is in the heart of Spains pig country. I had traveled there in search of the worlds best ham, a recent food obsession instigated by Spanish friends. Along the way, I discovered a variety of mouthwatering specialties, learned about unique traditions and met locals with a contagious passion for their culinary heritage. As peoples knowledge and love of Spanish cuisine grow, delicacies like jamn Ibrico de bellota are entering the international spotlight. This time-honored ham arrived in the United States in 2008 to much fanfare. Sold for about $200 a pound at specialty stores like LaTienda.com, it became the most expensive cold cut in the country. Discerning consumers seem eager to pay this lofty price. This summer, the powerhouse brand 5J (Cinco Jotas) plans to enter the American market, joining the U.S.D.A.-certified producer Embutidos Fermn. Iberian pork meat is extraordinary, Ferran Adri, the acclaimed chef at El Bulli, a three-Michelin-star restaurant in Catalonia, said in a phone interview. Theres nothing like it elsewhere in the world. Theres a great difference between a superior ham and all the rest.

The secret of this superiority rests in the thousands of acres of dehesas mountainous meadows populated by oak trees where the indigenous black Iberian pigs have roamed since ancient times. They feed on grass, fruit and, most importantly, acorns that fall every autumn from holm and cork oaks. This gives their meat a unique nutty flavor and a high level of oleic acids, considered a healthy fat. Spaniards take this food tradition seriously. More than 40 million cured hams were sold last year in Spain, and those derived from Iberian pigs are a particular source of national pride. Local residents started curing meats more than a thousand years ago, eventually turning the craft into an art. Our sybaritic journey started in Salamanca, 130 miles west of Madrid. This lively city marks the unofficial beginning of the Iberian ham trail, which stretches roughly 300 miles down to Seville. My travel companions Mara, an effusive Madrilea who drove expertly over cliff-hanging roads, and Joan, an adventurous Catalan who helped us discover the Iberian secret were old friends and fellow carnivores. After a brisk tour of Salamancas historic center and its lovely Plaza Mayor, we defied the custom of savoring ones meals and ordered a few appetizers to go. We had an important appointment 30 miles south, in Guijuelo, a small town of dowdy, low-rise buildings and old-fashioned ham shops. I had arranged to visit several ham producers on our pilgrimage, and this was a required stop: the headquarters of Joselito, considered the Dom Prignon of hams.