Meeting Iberian Pigs, the Aracena Ham Museum and a Tapas Lunch
Andalusian Breakfast
 |
| Spain |
 |
| Andalusia |
The Posada de San Marcos offered a buffet with fruit and cereals, but the centrepiece of the breakfast was firmly Andalusian – well almost. Ángel described it as two patés made by Lucy from his grandmother’s recipe, jam and marmalade made by Lucy from her grandmother’s recipe (so more Lancastrian than Andalusian – though the marmalade involved Seville oranges) local honey and tomatoes, and butter from the supermarket (because cattle are not raised locally). The orange juice also came from the supermarket - oranges were not in season and Ángel would not buy fruit flown in from another continent.
 |
| Breakfast, Posada de San Marcos, Alajar |
Bread came from a local bakery, and there were six Andalusian olive oils, ranging from sweet and nutty to strong and peppery. A slice of bread, a drizzle of oil and a smear of tomato was perfect for the patés while honey, jam and marmalade sat more happily on butter. With more time, a comparative tasting of the oils would have been interesting – maybe we will return one day.
Meeting Iberian Black Pigs
 |
| Alájar |
After breakfast we walked with Ángel to meet the Iberian Black Pigs that produce the world’s finest ham; that is Ángel’s not entirely unbiased view; there are other contenders and we shall consider them later.
As we walked through the village streets Ángel pointed out the flood defences and drains. It does not rain often in Alájar, but when it does it falls in torrents not drizzle. The drains and even the streets themselves are angled to take water down to the (usually) little Rivera de Alájar which flows along the southern edge of the village, past the garden of the Posada de San Marcos.
 |
| The cleverly constructed streets of Alájar guide water gently down to the river |
Heading south like the storm water, we crossed the river and looked back at the village. The sun shone from a clear blue sky, but it was early morning in late September, so it was still noticeably cool in the shadows.
 |
| Alájar in morning sunshine |
Continuing down a sunken lane into the countryside we copied Ángel, keeping our eyes on the ground and picking up acorns wherever we saw them. The surrounding countryside was dehesa (montado in Portuguese). Widespread across Andalusia and Extremadura in Spain and the Algarve and Alentejo in Portugal, dehesa was developed in antiquity to manage land with soil too poor for arable use. Grassland with herbaceous species for grazing is studded with trees, mainly holm and cork oaks pruned specifically to produce acorns for fattening Iberian black pigs. The underbrush is cleared every 7 to 10 years and the cork oaks which typically live some 250 years are harvested every 9 to 12 years. The trees are spaced to maximize productivity by balancing light for the grasses, water for the soil, and acorns for the pigs.
It did not take us long to find some pigs among the cork oaks…
 |
| Iberian black pigs among cork oaks, Alájar |
…and then a judicious application of acorns persuaded them into a more suitable area for viewing. The black pigs are actually dark grey, their name comes from their jet-black trotters. They are, Ángel, told us, like ballet dancers, not a comparison that leapt immediately to my mind. They have dainty ankles and dance on the tips of their toes, their back toes never touching the ground. I seriously doubt that Darcey Bussell has ‘back toes’, but let us allow Ángel his flight of fancy.
 |
| A magnificent Iberian black sow |
As we walked Ángel explained the importance of the two oak species, the less nutritious cork oak acorns coming early in autumn and as they finish the holm oak acorns arrive giving the pigs their favourite food and fattening them up for…well, let’s speak quietly as they may be listening.
 |
| Lynne and Ángel walk down the sunken lane |
Sheep and goats are raised on the dehesa as well as pigs and they share the land with wild boar, red deer, and many bird species, including the endangered Spanish imperial eagle. More controversially fighting bulls are reared on lowland dehesa where the grass is less sparse.
We stopped to pick figs from a roadside tree. I have never eaten a fig straight from the tree before - nor have I eaten one as sweet and juicy as this. Ángel pointed out the huge variety of trees, not just the Mediterranean oaks and figs, but weeping willows by the river and alpine pines in a shady dell. We did not have to travel a huge distance to see a date palm – almost every type of tree can find an appropriate micro-climate on the slopes of the Sierra de Aracena.
 |
| Goats on the hillside. Alájar |
Another group of pigs greeted our arrival with high decibel squealing. They seemed to imagine our pockets were full of acorns – and they were not disappointed.
 |
| More Iberian black pigs |
The Aracena Ham Museum
 |
| Aracena |
We returned to the Posada, and Ángel drove us the 12km into Aracena, a tidy, prosperous looking town and, with some 9,000 inhabitants, the largest in the region. It has a castle and the Gruta de las Maravillas, reputedly among the most spectacular cave systems in Spain, but we had come to see El Museo del Jamón de Aracena - though not until we had enjoyed a lengthy circular tour, courtesy of Aracena’s parking problems.
 |
| The Aracena Ham Museum |
In the days before refrigeration when most livestock was slaughtered at the start of winter, the preserving of meat was important. Beef was salted and pork legs were either wet or dry-cured to make ham. Today there is no need to preserve meat like this, but we still do – because we like it.
Northern Europe largely produces brine-cured hams while dry-curing is prevalent in southern Europe; the best known (and arguably, best) being French jambon de Bayonne, Italian prosciutto de Parma and Spanish jámon ibérico.
Productions methods are similar for all. For jámon ibérico the weaned piglets are fattened on barley and maize for several weeks and then allowed to roam the dehesa, feeding naturally on grass, herbs, acorns, chestnuts, and roots. Immediately before slaughtering their diet is restricted to acorns for the best quality, or a mix of acorns and commercial feed for lesser qualities.
 |
| Aracena has many little statues. This swineherd is, approriately, outside the ham museum |
The hams are salted and allowed to dry for two weeks before being rinsed and dried for another four to six weeks. They are then hung up for curing for a minimum of 24 months.
We watched a film about the dehesa and then plunged into the world of ham classification. Spain takes its ham extremely seriously and I find this stuff fascinating - but not everybody shares my enthusiasm, so I will keep it brief(ish).
Firstly, there is Serrano Ham, which can be found in every supermarket in the UK. It comes from any pigs anywhere in Spain, but the production methods and quality are rigorously controlled. It is good ham, not in the jámon ibérico league perhaps, but much cheaper.
Jamón ibérico has four Protected Designations of Origin (P.D.O. or D.O.P. in Spanish), recognized throughout the EU.
D.O.P. Guijuelo is the largest, producing 60% of all Jámon Ibérico in Guijuelo itself and 76 other municipalities in the southeast of Salamanca province, Castile y Léon.
D.O.P. Dehesa de Extremadura is produced in the dehesa areas of Cáceres and Badajoz province in Extramadura.
The other two are in Andalusia
D.O.P. Los Pedroches comes from the district of that name in Cordoba Province.
And last but by no means least, and the most important to us
D.O.P. Jabugo. Jabugo is a small town 10km north of Alájar, both Alájar and Aracena are within the D.O.P Jabugo production area.
But it is not just where they come from, the pig’s breeding and feeding are also important, the minimum requirement being at least 50% Black Iberian in their ancestry.
The four grades are denoted by coloured labels
 |
| Colour coding for Iberian ham |
Black-label is the finest grade jamón ibérico de bellota (acorn). It is made from pure bred Iberian free-range pigs that eat only acorns during their last two months. The hams are cured for at least 36 months.
Red-label is the same except the pigs are not pure bred. The percentage of Iberian ancestry must be specified on the label.
Green label is jamón ibérico cebo de campo. The pigs are not pure bred and are pastured and fed a combination of acorns and grain.
White label is from pigs fed only on grain, and must be cured for a minimum of 24 months.
We walked through an exhibition of hams from all major production areas. Bayonne and Parma hams maybe the best known but there are many more with their own DOPs. Ángel blamed General Franco. Spain could not join the European Economic Community (now the EU) while Franco ruled. He died in 1975 and it took until 1986 to get in, so the producers of Bayonne and Parma had 3 decades to get their acts together and their products known and Spain has been playing catch-up ever since.
 |
| Gloucester Old Spots - Not much to do with Iberian ham, but I like them - and I needed a picture to break up the print |
And he was, of course right. We would discuss his bewilderment at Britain voting to leave the EU over lunch, a bewilderment most Spaniards (and Lynne and I) share. Then he dismissed all other hams as being made from white pigs and therefore inferior. I think his understandable national pride got the better of him. There are dozens, maybe hundreds of pig breeds, some for bulk production, others for quality – and not all the others are white. The Gloucester Old Spot, though not used (as far as I know) for air-cured ham produces distinctive and very fine pork products in the UK. I am sure the hamsters of Parma and San Danielle, Bayonne and Njeguški (in Montenegro, since you asked) are as proud of their particular pigs as the people of Alájar.
And which is the world’s best ham? Ángel would undoubtedly say jámon ibérico, but I do not know, I have not eaten enough of the best from here or elsewhere to be certain, but I will willingly concede that jámon ibérico is a serious contender.
Tapas lunch in Aracena
It was still too early for lunch when we emerged from the museum. The town curls three quarters of the way round the arid hill surmounted by its Castillo and we ambled slowly anticlockwise, past the entrance to the Gruta de las Maravillas, burrowed by nature into the hill below the castle, and continued slowly down the pedestrianised Calle Pozo de la Nieve.
 |
| Calle Pozo de la Nieve, Aracena |
Water management is important in this arid region and the channel down the centre of the street carries water to the public laundry. Affluence has made the laundry redundant, but it is carefully maintained as a reminder of how life has changed – and within the memory of many older people.
 |
| Public laundry, Aracena |
From the laundry we crossed the street to the Montecruz Tapas and Gastrobar. It was now just after 1 o’clock, lunchtime to us, but far too early by Spanish standards. Again Ángel blamed General Franco, who was so besotted by Hitler and Mussolini he wanted his country to be in the same time zone as theirs. Ángel had a point, almost all of Spain is west of the Greenwich meridian so it belongs in the same time zone as Great Britain, Ireland and Portugal; when Spaniards turn up for their lunch at 2 o’clock their British, Irish and Portuguese counterparts are lunching at exactly the same time, only they call 1 o’clock. I am not sure Franco can be blamed for everything and messing with the clocks would not be the most serious issue on his charge sheet, but Ángel’s theory fails to account for why the Spanish start their dinner at 10 when the rest of us are sipping our brandy and nibbling the last of the cheese.
Early we might have been, but Montecruz was open, and we settled down with a beer, olives and the ‘free’ bread and ham included in our museum ticket, and perused the menu.
 |
| Jamón Iberico, Montecruz Tapas, Aracena |
We asked Ángel to order a selection of tapas typical of the region. He chose pimientos de piquillo rellenos de jabali y gurumelos (piquillo peppers, a heatless chili grown in northern Spain, stuffed with wild boar and gurumelos, a wild mushroom, aminita ponderosa, peculiar to southern Europe), flamenquin de carillera y suave queso de Aracena (pork cheeks and local soft cheese wrapped in egg and breadcrumbs) and berenjena (aubergines in the lightest, crispest tempura batter).
 |
| Pimientos de piquillo rellenos de jabali y gurumelos, Montecruz Tapas, Aracena |
We were in a small bar in a small town, but the sophistication of the ingredients, presentation and flavours would have been impressive anywhere. It was a fine lunch at a very reasonable price, and one that would leave just enough room for dinner.
An Afternoon at Leisure in Alájar
Ángel drove us back to Alájar and Lynne decided to have a nap (old people do that). Then we went for a stroll around the village. There is a little more space between the houses than our first impression had suggested.
 |
| Wide open spaces, Alájar |
Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (You don’t Live Twice) is a Hindi language ‘buddy road movie’ released in 2011. Three well-healed young Indian men come to Spain to discover themselves, and unearth a tick list of Spanish clichés. In a three-week holiday they remarkably visit the Tomatina festival in Buñol (late August) followed by the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona (early July). Surprisingly, the film won awards. There is, apparently, enough room in Alájar to stage a major Bollywood song and dance number, as Señorita was filmed here over three nights. The song seamlessly blends flamenco with Indian popular music to the benefit of neither - here is a link to it on Youtube, click on it if you must.
There is enough space for dancing, but not for a good photograph of the mostly 18th century Church of San Marcos. It is reputed to have the tallest spire in the Province of Huelva.
 |
| San Marcos, Alájar |
Back at the posada I had a swim. Late September nights are cold and the unheated pool does not warm up as much during the day as I would have liked. The top 20cm of the water was pleasant, but below that – and at all depths in shaded sections - the water was bracing. Such temperatures discourage idling and I am sure a few brisk lengths did me good.
 |
| A few brisk lengths, Alájar |
Dinner at the Posada de San Marcos, Alájar (2)
Again, we ate at the congenial, if non-Spanish time of 7.30, again we ate outside, with a pullover to hand (the temperature drops swiftly when the sun goes down) and again Lucy provided us with a memorable meal.
The chicken liver and chestnut paté, home produced from local ingredients, gave the chestnut as prominent a role as the meat; unusual perhaps, but very good indeed. I always like a bean stew and Lucy’s chick pea stew with chorizo and morcilla (black pudding) was spot on. Dessert was a lemon and almond pastry.
 |
| Chicken liver and chestnut paté, Posada de San Marcos, Alájar |
After another bottle of the house red, a light organic tempranillo perfect for swilling rather than sipping, we retired, happy with our meal and, indeed, our whole day.
Iberian Pork
