Earlier this month, we embarked on a pilgrimage to Renilla Farm, our trusted and longstanding purveyor of Iberico. Nestled where Salamanca meets Extremadura, the farm boasts a landscape fit for a painting: sublime, snow-capped mountains rising majestically in the distance, while impossibly straight Roman roads cut across rolling green fields studded with encinas—Spain's national tree and the source of those irresistible acorns for the pigs. Arriving in Salamanca, the unmistakable aroma of authentic jamón greeted us as we landed on the doorstep of Renilla’s factory. It was a scent that would linger for the next 48 hours, immersing us fully in Jamón country. Pure delight washed over us—like pigs in proverbial paradise, you might say. Inside Carlos' welcoming establishment, a haven of traditional Spanish charcuterie adorned with jamón legs suspended from the ceiling, we embarked on a factory tour and a journey through the life cycle of the Iberian black pig. First, we witnessed the masterful butchery of the Iberico pig. Due to its high-fat content, swift butchery while the carcass is still warm is crucial to avoid solidification. The breakdown process was an eye-opener, starkly contrasting with what we’d seen in other breeds. Here, prized cuts were redefined. Legs and shoulders, often destined for mince, sausages, or stewing cuts elsewhere, were meticulously removed, skinned in the classic V-shape, and hung on racks for their glorious transformation. Instead of British cutlets and meaty ribs, the carcass yielded treasures like secreto, pluma, presa, and cabecero. Trim was separated for chorizo and salchichón, while pig cheeks were set aside for guanciale. Once considered byproducts of jamón and paleta production, these cuts have, in the last decade, been given the love they deserve. Our journey continued to the hallowed chambers where legs and shoulders undergo their slow metamorphosis into jamón and paleta. In the salt room, shoulders and legs lay beneath mounds of rock salt, patiently curing. From there, we moved into vast cathedral-like rooms, where the paleta and bellota hung in uniformed towers. Natural air flowed through the space via carefully positioned windows, ensuring the perfect balance of humidity and temperature. This traditional method allows the ham to mature slowly and naturally, developing its deep, complex flavor over time. The scent of aging jamón filled the air, a testament to the centuries-old process still in practice. The open windows also connect to the surrounding environment, with cool, dry air circulating and gently caressing the hanging hams. This process is dictated not by machines but by nature itself, with the local climate playing an essential role. After a quick lunch in classic Spanish style, featuring a myriad of snacks, starters, and main courses, we dragged our gluttonous carcasses to the farm. Vast fields stretched out before us, scattered with Iberian black pigs whose almost prehistoric appearance stood in stark contrast to the native breeds we’re accustomed to in the UK. These pigs, with their flapping forward-facing black ears, vary in size due to the natural diversity of the breed but are uniformly large. Encina trees dotted the landscape, their bellota acorns—the holly oak in English—playing a vital role in the pigs' diet and the ecosystem. As Spain's national tree, the encina provides not only sustenance but also a connection to a long-standing tradition. To rear Iberico pigs, farmers are legally required to allocate one hectare of land per pig, ensuring ample space for them to forage and thrive. Bellota acorns, rich in fats with properties akin to olive oil, are key to the meat’s exceptional flavor and are lauded for their health benefits. One of our guides shared a story about a friend with a heart condition who is allowed to eat only Iberico pork, a testament to the product’s unique nutritional profile—diet lore we can definitely get behind. We could have roamed the encina plains for hours, but our airport ride awaited. We set off back through the sprawl of Salamanca, stopping en route for yet another platter of mouthwatering meats. After all, when in Rome… In the end, what struck us most about Renilla Farm was the harmonious balance between tradition and nature. From the vast fields of prehistoric-looking Iberian pigs grazing under the shade of encina trees to the serene, cathedral-like chambers where the jamón rests, every step of the process speaks of reverence for quality and craft.