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Hog farmer walking in grass alongside large grey hogs with black and white dog

Dehesa de Campo Alto farm manager Ángel Grande Gómez and his dog walk the hilltop pasture lined with oak trees in early March 2024 while pigs graze the last acorns that fell the previous fall.

Agriculture, Education December 01, 2024

High on the Hog

Patience turns Spanish ham into gastronomic art.

by Katie Knapp

Melt-in-your-mouth good is typically a phrase reserved for a delicate dessert made with a large helping of butter. But when a freshly hand-carved, paper-thin piece of jamón Ibérico—with its signature dark, purplish-red color and ribbons of rich, flavorful fat—hits your taste buds, the phrase takes on new meaning. As you let the Spanish ham warm up in your mouth like you might savor a fine wine, the fat begins to melt. The nutty, sweet, and spicy flavors become nuanced yet balanced.

Spanish pig farmer, Fernando Adell describes this special type of dry-aged ham as "Iberart, a culinary masterpiece."

This is because it is no ordinary ham.

Adell's family and neighbors have been raising black-footed, Iberian pigs under sprawling evergreen oak trees (Quercus ilex species) in the hills of Spain's Cordoba region for generations. There is a certain harmony that their ancestors found by letting nature lead.

Currently, about 600 area farmers raise pigs that eventually earn the label of the Los Pedroches Protected Designation of Origin (DOP), meaning they are raised and processed following a precise set of practices in this specific region. Los Pedroches is one of several DOPs within Spain where this type of pork is produced.

It is as natural of a process as possible, Adell says about how he raises his pigs. It is also one where tradition reigns. His practices are nearly identical to that of his grandfather's. What he is most concerned about day-to-day, or year-to-year, is keeping it that way for generations to come.

On his farm in southeastern Spain, Dehesa de Campo Alto, they have a closed cycle. When the young pigs are old enough to graze, they are turned out in the pasture to forage until they reach market weight.

His farm manager and several dogs ensure the pigs clean the forest floor of all its acorns and stay healthy and protected from predators while they roam.

If you were out for a hike in this idyllic countryside and saw the dark-haired pigs and herding dogs in the distance, you might easily mistake them for sheep or even mini cows. They quietly munch along, following the farmer's voice or dogs' suggested path.

The abundance of acorns on top of the grass mixture in their diet is what produces the uniquely marbled meat and rich, nutty flavor. In order to get enough food, each pig has roughly 4 acres to graze until they are about two years old.

The extra walking compared to conventionally finished pigs also helps develop muscle and distribute the fat differently throughout the pig's body. The finished meat is high in protein, vitamins, and antioxidants, and the fat is high in oleic acid, similar to other ‘heart-healthy' oils such as olive oil.

Above. Adell raises about 600 Iberian pigs a year. To ensure nothing is wasted from each ham, hand-carvers are certified in the art of slicing it perfectly thin. Constantino Morera Alvarez, technical director at Dehesas Reunidas, checks aging hams. They are marked with a vintage based on the year the pig was slaughtered.

Slow and steady. It is not about efficiency and scale; it is about quality and taste, according to Adell. Like many farmers often say, he is not in this business for the money. Instead, it is about the way of life it provides and the joy and health benefits of eating the prized ham.

And prized it is.

Farmers who patiently wait two years to market their acorn-fed pigs receive a premium that trickles down from what consumers are willing to pay for the specialty pork.

Once the pigs have been harvested, the legs (both front and back) are dry-aged. Each leg is submerged in salt for several days, one day for every kilogram it weighs. Then it is washed and hung to dry in a cellar for up to four years.

"The process is natural all the way through," says Constantino Morera Alvarez, technical director for the Dehesas Reunidas curing and aging facility. "We control the cellars' temperature and humidity simply by opening and closing the windows."

The local air wafting through the open windows adds the final touch of the DOP's terroir, or unique flavoring specific to that region.

Meat carvers, such as Juan Angel Pulido, are extensively trained and certified to deliver all this potential to a person's plate. The ideal slice of jamón Ibérico is square with just the right proportion of tender meat and marbling.

"It's an art, not a job," says Pulido, who trained for nearly two years before cutting a ham on his own. "I've been doing it for 20 years now, but I'm not finished learning."

Premium patience. Consumer demand proves the wait is worth it.

A pre-sliced, quarter-pound package of the highest grade jamón Ibérico de bellota (100% acorn-fed) aged at Dehesas Reunidas retails for $333. A whole hind leg goes from upwards of $816, or approximately $55 per pound. That does not include the cost to bring in a certified, master slicer. Prices come down slightly for lesser grades or for ham from pigs that ate supplemental feed and/or spent less time basking under the shade of an old oak tree.

Shoulder meat cured and aged alongside the ham brings in about two thirds the price, as much as $211 for a quarter-pound package.

Antonio Jesus Torralbo, president of the Los Pedroches DOP, reported that in 2023 roughly 80% of the ham they produced was sold in Spain. The other 20% was exported to other parts of Europe and the United States and Canada. Because of the delicacy's demand, many of the legs are spoken for years in advance.

The supply and demand ratio is not likely to change anytime soon.

Farmers like Adell are not willing to change their practices to speed up growth. And at the same time, they are facing similar challenges of farmers in other sectors like rising land costs and succession planning.

Adell's children, who could be the farm's fifth generation, have made careers and lives in the city. "Maybe a grandchild will want to continue the business," he hopes.

For now, he will continue to gaze onto the hills his family has owned for generations and marvel at how his pigs can turn simple ingredients of grass and acorns into such a mouthwatering meat sought after by the world's elite. ‡