Traveling to the source of Spanish Ibérico ham

José Salto/Cinco Jotas

The pasture is a vibrant shade of green, with stately trees towering above a backdrop of rolling hills. The holm oaks spread their branches wide, like an eagle displaying its wingspan, while the cork oaks stand guard, their knotted branches testifying to the passing of time. I am standing on Rosa González Nieto’s pig farm in the Sierra Morena in southern Spain, and the scene defies all preconceptions. While modern livestock farming can be a litany of horrors, the production of Ibérico pork is an exception: a meat industry that is also protects and trusts its natural environmentoffers its animals a good quality of life and creates one of the most refined products in the world.

The term “pig farm” does not capture the complexity of this place, an ecosystem shaped by humans more than 6,000 years ago. To survive on semi-arid land unsuitable for agriculture, the people who lived here transformed the Mediterranean forest into the dehesa (in English: grasslands with evergreen oak trees). It is a landscape of serene beauty that is also ideal for sustainable livestock breeding. For Spaniards, the resulting jamón Ibérico is as much a cultural symbol as Picasso’s cubist art, the red wines of Riojaor the windmills of Don Quixote.

The star of the dehesa is the Ibérico pig, and as I walk around González Nieto’s property, I snap photo after photo of the animals, like a zoological paparazza, to remind myself that I’m on a working ranch. But González Nieto, who inherited the farm from her grandfather, is a full-time veterinarian and dedicated to raising her livestock with care. These hardy animals are a native breed of pig, and they roam free and spend their lives outdoors, foraging for their meals—a combination of grass and acorns (bellota’s) produced by the different oaks. Their genetics, exercise and diet result in meat that is nutty, creamy and slightly sweet, with excellent marbling.

Although the Ibérico pig is the star here, it is supported by a diverse cast of characters, a web of life that depends on the health of all its members. During my visit, I see mushrooms sprouting from the ground, learn about honey production, and watch small herds of sheep and cattle happily munching on plants. These grazers are a fixture on local pig farms, thinning out excess vegetation, preventing fires, and keeping pastures accessible to the pigs.

But it’s the trees that are the quiet heroes of this landscape. In addition to the acorns they produce, majestic oaks provide much-needed shade during hot summers and retain moisture in the soil, which helps native grasses grow. Despite having uncorked more than my fair share of wine bottles, I’ve never seen a cork oak up close—until now. For nature lovers, it’s a humbling experience to stand before these magnificent specimens, which can grow to heights of up to 65 feet. Over its 200-year lifespan, a cork oak’s outer bark can be stripped every decade or so without harming the tree; in fact, a harvested cork oak stores up to five times more carbon than an unharvestedI look up and follow the bark-covered branches to the bright chestnut brown of the harvested trunk, a face that exudes vulnerability and age.

It is the natural resources of the dehesa that the Spanish government wanted to protect in 2014, when it a strict labeling system to regulate the production of Ibérico pork. The highest level of quality is marked by the black label, which means that the pigs are 100% pure Ibérico, have a free-range existence, eat acorns and live on farms with a minimum of about two hectares per pig. The red label is almost the same, except that the pig only has to be 50% Ibérico. The green label restricts the range of the animals and allows forage in their diet, while those raised for products with a white label live indoors and eat only forage.

In addition to the quality of life of the animals, the production of black and red labels is also beneficial for the environment, according to Doctor Vicente Rodriguez-Estéveza veterinary professor who directs the Center for Organic Livestock at the University of Cordoba. “Free-range Iberian pig farming is actually captures more carbon than it produces—thanks to the animals’ diet and the carbon stored in the soil. Where else can you find pig farming that combats climate change?”

Once farmer González Nieto’s pigs reach maturity here in the Sierra Morena, she sells them to Cinco Jotas, one of the few ham producers in Spain that only makes black-label Ibérico. The company controls the animals’ genetics and diet, and the space required for each pig is more than double the government standard. These steps have made Cinco Jotas a leader in the world of high-end Ibérico (its ham was even served at this year’s Oscars).

After visiting the company’s curing cellars in the town of Jabugo, I met one of Cinco Jotas’ master Ibérico carvers—yes, there is such a thing—and learned how to properly slice the delicacy (though I’m using the word “learned” liberally). But in my mind, this was merely a prelude to the main event: a decadent tasting of Ibérico ham, chorizo, and other charcuterie, paired with Osborne Sherry and organic caviar produced by Ríofrío.

Later that day, I joined González Nieto and her husband, Francisco Aparicio, for dinner at Russes Gastrobar in the town of Aracena. Over a meal of Ibérico pork, complete with crispy fried pig ears and even a vegetable or two, she tells me about her farm and how it’s become a labor of love. “We have very few animals and a lot of expenses,” she says. “We need government support, otherwise small farmers like us will disappear.” That means treating Ibérico as a luxury and putting an economic value on the social and environmental benefits of its production.

While black-label pork has an exceptional flavor and texture, it’s unlikely the average consumer would consider it cheap; on the Cinco Jotas website, a three-ounce package of ham costs $49. But after you’ve visited the dehesa, seen how the pigs live, and experienced the landscape that the industry helps preserve, you can’t help but wonder about the hidden costs behind the cheaper stuff. It’s a matter of priorities, according to María Castro Bermúdez-Coronel, a biologist for Cinco Jotas. “If I want to enjoy nature, I have to support better livestock and agriculture,” she says. “Ultimately, we all have to decide what kind of food we want to put in our bodies and what kind of planet we want to have.”

Experience Iberian ham at the source

For guided tours of the dehesa and Ibérico pig farms, visit one of these black label companies.

Five Jotas offers a variety of guided experiencesincluding visits to the pasture and drying cellars, along with tastings and a lesson on ham cutting at the headquarters in Jabugo (about 113 kilometres from SevilleAsk about the combinations with sherry.

MJ 1898 is located in Los Pedroches, an hour north of Cordoba. Co-founded by Rafael Muñoz, a veterinarian and the recipient of the 2018 young sustainable farmer award—the company is working on recovering a particular breed of Ibérico pig known as Torbiscal. Tailor-made visits can include a stop at the breeding and pig farm, as well as tastings. You can even stay overnight at a country house in the dehesa.

The Umbria located between Seville and MalagaThis family business used to produce hams under the different colored labels, but switched to 100% black-label production a few years ago. This producer’s farm has also earned organic certification. Tours include: a visit to the meadows and tastings of ham, charcuterie, pâtés and cheese, but also of organic fruit and wine.

Originally published on Condé Nast Traveler