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By Frank Camorra and Richard Cornish
Published 2009
A JAMÓN — PRONOUNCED HA-MON — IS NOT JUST A CURED HIND LEG OF PORK. IT IS FAR MORE THAN THAT. IT IS A FOOD IMBUED WITH THE TRADITIONS OF FAMILY, FRIENDSHIP, FAITHFULNESS AND FEASTING. JAMÓN IS SO APPRECIATED IT IS GIVEN AS A GIFT TO CURRY FAVOUR OR AS A LOW-LEVEL BRIBE, AND IT HOLDS A PLACE IN THE SPANISH PSYCHE IN A WAY THAT IS PERHAPS UNIQUE.
Just south of the ancient city of Salamanca, perched on a high plateau, is Guijuelo — the ‘Detroit’ of jamón. Jamón factories ring this town; there are factories on the roads leading into the main plaza, and right in the very heart of the town, wedged between old churches and jamón bars, are jamón secaderos or drying rooms that have been built to look like blocks of flats. Through an open window, where you’d expect to glimpse a private moment in someone’s domestic life, there are, instead, hundreds of jamones hanging, slowly drying.
