Part 11: The Land Where The Pig Is King

I know of no Spanish vegetarians: none whatsoever. Those foolhardy enough to bring that particular belief to Extremadura are treated as if they have some mild affliction, an affliction which can, nevertheless, be cured by good daily doses of ham and the occasional visit to a properly qualified professional.

I was in a bar the other day, (nothing unusual in that you may say), and I happened to have a grand total of three beers. Each beer came with its requisite free tapa (known as aperitivos in these parts) and it struck me just how ubiquitous the pig and all its associated products are in Extremadura. The first aperitivo was panceta, something like deep-fried belly pork. The second was a little saucer of stewed pig´s tail, and the last consisted of a few slices of local chorizo, good and red from the presence of the wonderful extremeña paprika. And it struck me, in that way that things sometimes do, that some of the local menus were comprised of at least 30% pig products.

Vegetarians then, have it hard in Extremadura. Dishes that would otherwise be perfectly fine for non-carnivores are almost invariably titivated up a bit by the last minute addition of something that once formed part of a pig. Healthy, wholesome lentils are livened up by the addition of blood pudding, chick peas, which might otherwise be beyond reproach, suddenly acquire a bit of pig´s ear or perhaps a bit of cow´s stomach. Omelettes develop ham and dishes whose names might lead one to think they had not contributed to the slaughter ( “Patatas a la……”) are garnished at the last minute with good sturdy chunks of chorizo.

But of course, here in the Big Ex, pigs are not just any old pigs. Our pigs are cerdos ibéricos, svelte slate-grey, and, if they are very lucky, fed solely on acorns for the last three months of their lives. I know I have already mentioned the health giving properties of the best ham, so in order to avoid repeating myself, I will outline a couple of tests to ascertain whether or not your ham is top quality. It is said that if you turn a plate of the good stuff upside down, it does not fall off the plate. This is all very well until served bog standard ham in the guise of acorn-fed ham. You can look somewhat foolish in front of other diners as you wonder whether to retrieve the fallen ham or just try to ignore it. The other test involves taking a piece of the fat and rubbing it between forefinger and thumb. If, after a couple of minutes rubbing, there remains no solid fat, then the ham is certain to be acorn-fed.

Yet with all this super abundance of ham, I have not yet had the courage to buy a whole one, take it home, and cut slices off as and when they are required. This is because the correct cutting of a leg of ham is a skill that requires no little degree of manual dexterity. So highly prized is this skill, that local professionals zealously compete each year to be named “Cuchillo de Oro” (Golden knife). The current champion, Nico Jiménez of Mérida, keen to share his arcane secrets with less nimble fingered members of the public, has just launched an instructional DVD entitled “Aprenda el arte de cortar jamón con Nico”. Surely the ideal Christmas present for the – dare I say it?- ham fisted among us.

Articles in the series:

Introduction to Pete's Tale

Part 1: Village Life

Part 2: Bichos

Part 3: A Two-Bar Town

Part 4: Fruit and Veg

Part 5: Summer

Part 6: Politics

Part 7: Noise

Part 8: Our natural park

Part 9: New Year's Eve

Part 10: Timetables

Part 11: The Land Where the Pig is King

Part 12: How Not to Buy a House

Part 13: That First Winter

Part 14: The Extremeño Spring

Part 15: To be a Pilgrim

Part 16: A Change is Coming

Part 17: Wine Talk

Part 18: Free For All

Part 19: How Do You Spell Asparagus?

Part 20: Designer Peas