Ham. Part 286 (Patreon)

Hey, long-time Patreon people! Remember, how like, a couple of years ago, I was on this huge ham kick? That’s the thing about Spain, man. These guys know their fucking ham.

It’s one of the most charming fixtures of every grocery store that I walk into. These are places not tremendously different from the middle sized supermarkets I would go to growing up in the States. But one thing I never saw growing up was a selection of fully cured hams, just hanging there like tide pods.

Of course, people here don’t typically buy the whole ham. Maybe for the holidays when there are a whole lot of people coming over during that two weeks. But, it’s available like thin-sliced rain water in little-vacuum sealed packs of about 200 g each if you want a snack.

Agh! If you’ve never had it, Iberian ham tastes like honey. They don’t add salt, or seasoning, or anything. It’s just really slowly dried, deliberately, until all the flavors of the meat come out — in this case, almost exclusively pigs who have only ever had one bad day in their whole lives. Chewy, texturally smooth, and with a flavor that evolves in your mouth. Nothing better to gonwith a cold beer.

Anthony Bourdain, at one point, pontificated on the stuff. Something along the lines of, “if you can visit this country, and not partake of this most cherished part of its culture and identity, it is tantamount to meeting the great love of one’s life, only to let her slip through your fingers, and then spiral ever downward into despair, depression, and ultimately, death.” Something like that. But I like it. And, it’s true.

And so, dear reader, whenever I happen to find myself in a market and see a little selection of slow-cured heaven, I get a little giddy. You can forgive a girl for only momentarily pulling down her mask (in an otherwise empty supermarket) for a quick photo-op, right?