How Spain reconquered the world — with its cuisine

More than half a millennium ago, Spain became the world’s first superpower and was the largest empire in world history. It wielded its military, political and economic might with its sword, while spreading its language, culture and religion with the cross. And, unlike most empires that have risen and fallen throughout civilization, Spain’s influence remains as strong today with the widespread use of its language, religion and cuisine.

Spain’s undisputed domination in the world of gastronomy in the past few decades has been well established. It has produced a new kind of conquistador, still sword-wielding to be sure, with a blade a bit shorter but equally sharp — a chef’s knife. Its new kitchen troopers are the stuff legends are made of: culinary titans whose avant-garde cooking has spread tentacles that reach the far corners of the world, perhaps out-distancing the grip of the erstwhile Spanish empire. Ferran Adrià, father and daughter Juan Mari and Elena Arzak, Andoni Luis Aduriz, the Roca brothers, just to name a few.

And just like their ancestors who conquered the Americas and the Philippines more than 500 years ago, the Spaniards of today continue this legacy of conquest, though this time through their cuisine and produce. Spain has long been known as the farm of Europe, producing large amounts of olive oil, wine and white pork meat from which jamón serrano and chorizos are made.

Closer to home, Filipinos have always been predisposed to enjoy traditional Spanish cuisine, understandably so not only because of our colonial past, but also our common love of pork and its products in our collective palates.

Though the iconic jamón serrano and chorizos have long been imported from Spain, it is surprising to know we have also been getting a lot of frozen white pork products from them. Though it has been available here locally for some time now, the general public is still unaware of it. One sure way of increasing their presence here is by branding their pork products in our supermarkets as “Spanish pork,” just as US and Australian meats are given preference over other meats. And given how we Filipinos love lechon, it will be a potential goldmine to sell us three-week-old cochinillos or suckling pigs.

The Spanish white pork is mainly imported from Interporc (Interprofesional Porcino de Capa Blanca) member establishments in Spain. Interporc is a white pork (non-iberico) association that represents many meat processors around Spain. It is reputed to be the second largest hog producer in the European Union (next to Germany) and the fourth largest in the world. Sixty-five percent of its production goes to the domestic Spanish market, while the remaining 35 percent is exported. The products from its members range from fresh and frozen cuts of pork to processed sausages (chorizos, longanizas, morcillas, embutidos, sobrasadas, etc.) as well as cooked ham and Spain’s emblematic jamón serrano.

White pork, pork, everywhere

On a recent trip to Spain organized by Interporc, I was fortunate to be part of a Filipino media group that was toured around different pork processing facilities and jamón serrano plants in Cuenca, Toledo, Malaga and Girona.

In this whirlwind tour, what was impressed upon us was Spain’s leadership in the pork meat industry when it comes to quality controls and commitment to the public, using the latest technology to guarantee the utmost quality and safety of all its products. It is, in fact, one of the leading exponents of the well-known European production model.

Furthermore, traceability has been added to its mantra of most rigorous control systems to follow. Traceability means one can chart the path of a food item for human consumption at every stage of production, processing and distribution. The origin of each cut of meat and other ingredients of each processed product can be located, and it can be ensured that the food coming out of their factories has every guarantee of food safety.

Plant safety and high standards of hygiene

In the four pork processing facilities we visited, the most   mind-boggling fact we learned was that some 6,000 pigs can be processed daily in each facility. Each one adheres to the same rigorous quality controls, with an efficient system and high standards of hygiene, using the latest technology, ensuring not only food safety but safety in the plant for workers as well.

Well-lit, clean, odorless — that’s what struck me about what the different processing plants have in common. The fresh pig carcasses are processed in different sections for a specific cut by hair-netted, face-masked, hand-gloved workers (both male and female,) sorted out according to cuts before being blast-frozen, packed and then stored waiting to be shipped.

Jamón, jamón errano everywhere

The Spanish tradition of making jamón serrano (cured raw ham, serrano from the word sierra or mountain) in the mountains dictates that the pigs are slaughtered during winter, when they’re fattest, with pork fat as an essential part of the turnout of a good jamón. The hind leg is then covered with salt for several days depending on its weight, then left to air dry in caves with constant humidity and cool temperature. Nature will play its role in curing it for the next 12 to 16 months, going through spring, summer, autumn and onto winter again.

It is in the spirit of this tradition that every facility we visited tries to simulate the changing seasons in their kilometric, cavernous, temperature-controlled chambers. Respect for tradition is applied with modern technology.

After the whole pig is slaughtered, it is cut into its designated parts. Nothing goes to waste, including the offal, back fat and skin (for chicharon), of which the Philippines is a major consumer.

The hind legs are processed for the jamón serrano, while the shoulders are made into jamón cocido or cooked ham. Every piece goes through the process manually. It is washed and trimmed, dried, salted (about one hour per kilo of ham) and hang-dried for 16 months.

Though the general principles of jamón-making are followed, there are some differences that leave room for different ham profiles. At Incarlopsa in Toledo, ham legs are placed manually in huge steel cases, and then mechanically covered with enormous amounts of mined salt. Meanwhile, at Carneques Celra in Girona (near Barcelona), each leg is individually salted.

After the salting, the legs are then washed and dried. At Incarlopsa, pork lard is painted on each leg to seal it from microbes settling in between the muscles. It is then hung to dry in a series of chambers for the seasonal changes. When the jamón gets past the autumn chambers, the mold that has formed around the leg (this helps in the curing) is scraped and discarded. It is then washed, dried, and goes through a conveyor belt passing through a torch to burn some of the fat to impart some smoked aroma to the finished product.

During our five-day tour around the pork facilities and jamón factories, one would think we’d get tired of having jamón serrano almost daily — in the tasting room after a plant tour, or again in the tapas bars to whet our appetites before a typically late Spanish dinner at 10 p.m. Truth is, it was such a heady and educational tour on how Spanish white pork is processed and how jamón serrano is made, that I will never again take it for granted.