La Tienda in the Press

Living


The specialty food sites you should know about.

www.agferrari.com for perusing a wide array of specialty foods from Italy


www.alexianpate.com for an exceptional inventory of specialty foods


www.tienda.com for information and to buy specialty foods from Spain; including Redondo Iglesias Jamon Serrano
 

Peter Kaminsky

This is a tale of obsession that began nearly two years ago in a smoked-filled bar in the mountains of Andalusia. On a cold January night I had what I have since come to recognize as a major ham epiphany: my first taste of a long-cured, translucently pink, Ibérico ham glistening with droplets of amber fat. The flavor - salty, sweet, nutty, slightly funky - was as complex as a mature pinot noir. That first nibble caused me to wonder whether such marvelous pork could be raised in the United States.

It may be that the answer lies in the 23 rare hogs that I helped haul a thousand miles from a medical research facility in Columbia, Mo., to two family farms in the Carolinas. The pigs were Ossabaws, descendants of Iberian swine that were left by 16th-century Spaniards on Ossabaw Island off the Georgia coast.

My partner for the cross-country pig portage was Chuck Talbott, an adjunct professor at North Carolina A&T. He shared my hopes for these pigs: that they would produce supernal meat bursting with flavor and, just as wondrously, the salubrious fat, high in omega-3 fatty acids, for which Spain's Ibérico hogs are famed.

Dr. Talbott and I of course are not alone in our pursuit of perfect pork. In recent years several conscientious producers have built their reputations on flavorful pork, including the Niman Ranch Pork Company in Thornton, Iowa; Eden Farms in State Center, Iowa; and Flying Pig Farm of Shushan, N.Y. Ossabaws have also been on view at places like Colonial Williamsburg.

But we had an idea, or a newly rediscovered idea: that this ancient breed could be nourished in the United States as it is in Spain, on the free and biologically sustainable products of our forests.

To understand our hopes for the Ossabaws, you must know something about hog rearing in their ancestral home. Nearly a millennium ago, the Spanish developed a system of sustainable animal husbandry that has shaped a landscape that looks for all the world like a well-manicured golf course. It stretches for 300 miles from Andalusia, up through Extremadura, and into Salamanca and Segovia. The dehesa, as these lands are called, is the realm of Ibérico pigs as well as the ancient Mediterranean oak forest that produces their favorite food, la bellota, the acorn.

Jamón Ibérico is made from a rustic breed of swine, little changed in 10,000 years. These long-legged, wiry-haired creatures developed an ability to assimilate flavor-enhancing fat into their muscles. But today, with the exception of the dehesas of Spain's western marches, Ibéricos have been supplanted by confinement pigs, breeds better suited to industrial methods of hog rearing. These animals have, most serious cooks agree, dry, insipid-tasting meat and less of the fat that allows jamón Ibérico to age from two to five years. Fat in ham is like tannin in great wine: without it a ham cannot develop complex taste.

Miguel Ullibarri, the general manager of Real Ibérico, a consortium of traditional Spanish ham makers, said that the fat of Spain's acorn-eating pigs was higher in monounsaturated fatty acids than any other meat, up to 55 percent. For this reason Spaniards have taken to calling their beloved Ibérico the four-footed olive tree.

There is only one problem with this delicious, healthful, environmentally friendly product: you can't get it here. Fear of disease has made it illegal to bring Ibérico hogs, or their meat, into the United States. This may change soon, said Don Harris, the owner of La Tienda, tienda.com, an importer of artisanal Spanish products. Last week he returned from a trip to Spain, where he visited a new slaughterhouse in Córdoba that the U.S.D.A. has indicated it will consider approving. "They expect production could begin around March 2005 for the U.S. market," Mr. Harris reported.

Ibérico hogs arrived in America with the second voyage of Columbus. The conquistadores who followed him often left breeding stock at promising landfalls, confident that should they ever return, there would be hogs aplenty. The 700 pigs that Hernando De Soto took with him from Cuba to the Southeast in 1539 were the foundation stock of hundreds of thousands of pigs that once roamed the forests of the Southeast.

As Americans moved west, they turned much of the wilderness into cornfields. Faster-growing, less mobile breeds of pig were perfected for the barnyard and sty, so that farmers could market their surplus on the hoof. Meanwhile the Ibéricos and their descendants - suited to life in the wild - all but disappeared. But I suspected that their DNA survived in isolated pockets in much the same way that old English ballads survived in the isolated hamlets of Appalachia. 

I received exciting affirmation of this when I came across the writings of I. Lehr Brisbin Jr. of the Savannah River Ecology Laboratory, an author of "Wild Pigs in the United States." In that work he refers to the hogs of Ossabaw Island as descendants of Ibéricos.

Ibéricos! In America? I had to get my hands on some. In his reply to my enthusiastic e-mail message, Dr. Brisbin cautioned that one could not simply go and get a pig off the island without risking importing disease. More distressingly, the state of Georgia had begun a program to exterminate the Ossabaws, citing the threat they pose to endangered loggerhead turtles.

Dr. Brisbin encouraged me to contact Dr. Michael Sturek at the University of Missouri, who was conducting diabetes research with Ossabaws that he had taken off the island a year ago. With the assistance of the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy, I enlisted Dr. Talbott, whose oft-repeated mantra is "Upscale, designer pork for high-end consumers and chefs."

His interest in artisanal pork landed him a grant from the multimillion dollar fund established in the tobacco settlement of 1999. With that money, Dr. Talbott had set up a pilot program that provided hogs, expertise and a guaranteed market to small farmers in North Carolina who wanted to stay in farming but had few alternatives outside of tobacco.

When I told him about Dr. Sturek's Ossabaws, Dr. Talbott eagerly agreed to purchase 23 of them, which is how and why we acquired the truckload of pigs that we drove across America's heartland. We delivered half of the animals to Emile DeFelice's Caw Caw Creek Farm in St. Matthews, S.C., where they would subsist on acorns and grasses supplemented with peanuts, another traditional pig feed high in omega 3.

The shy animals entered their new environment tentatively. Frightened by the barking of of Mr. DeFelice's dog, they drew themselves into a tight circle, manes bristling. But when it was apparent that the even-tempered hound meant them no harm, they started to explore their new home, crunching on newly fallen acorns.

Two days later, we dropped off the remaining Ossabaws in Mebane, N.C., at the farm of Eliza Maclean. Ms. Maclean did not yet have access to a forest, so she planned to raise her group in a large paddock, feeding them peanuts, alfalfa and acorns from an enormous oak in her pasture.

The pigs took on weight quickly, and by December Mr. DeFelice was able to ship me half of an acorn-fed pig. I braised the shoulder slowly and savored my first bite. The taste was right, but the meat could have been juicier.

A month later Ms. Maclean's pigs had fattened up nicely and were ready for the pan. She sent one to Donna Lennard, the owner of Il Buco in New York, where the chef, Ed Witt, prepared a loin eye dusted with fennel pollen that delivered waves of exquisite porkitude.

For purposes of comparison Mr. DeFelice sent me a Farmer's Hybrid (the genetic line that Niman Ranch prefers) that had been allowed free range of his forest. Interestingly, it exhibited equally powerful taste and succulence, leading me to suspect that any pig hardy enough to live outdoors and munch acorns or peanuts will produce superior pork.

According to Dr. Talbott, scientific analysis of the Ossabaw meat indicated that the pigs that were fed acorns averaged 14.7 percent more monounsaturated fats than conventionally fed hogs. The breed was thrown a lifeline in September when Slow Food U.S.A. placed the Ossabaw on its metaphorical ark of endangered breeds that have been singled out for preservation efforts. As Erika Lesser, who is Slow Food's executive director, described Ossabaw pork, "It just tastes better than other pigs."

The environmental side of the story is similarly promising: if we raise pigs in the forest environment in which they evolved, or at least allow them the exercise and the primeval diet of their wild past, we will have better pork. Exploiting acorns as animal feed would mark a return to a renewable and free resource that could help to reclaim our woodlands. And if this practice knocked a few points off our national cholesterol average, that would be nice as well.

Playboy Magazine, October 2004

Heard the news? Spain is the new France. The women, the food -- España está muy caliente! Tienda.com specializes in Spanish delicacies that you can't find here. Example: it's Deluxe Paella Kit For $100 you get a paella pan, real Bomba rice, handpicked La Mancha saffron, Genuine smoked pimenton paprika, piquillo pimientos and Spanish olive oil. Just add fresh meat, seafood and a little love.

FirstLight Food


Colorful and tasty ancient rice varieties, which are grown in limited quantities on small farms in countries such as China, Spain, and Bangladesh, are popping upon U.S. store shelves. Like brown rice, most varieties retain the bean layer, which holds many of the nutrients. That means they're higher in fiber, protein, calcium and B vitamins than white rice. More so than brown rice, these varieties have complex, flavors ranging from earthy, herby and nutty to fruity and sweet.

Chinese Black Rice, an iron-rich variety, is nutty, smoky, and low in starch, making it ideal for cold salads.

Bomba, grown for centuries in Spain's Calasparra region, is a pale, short-grain rice with a mild flavor and firm grain. The rice's unique ability to soak up flavorful broth (it's capable of absorbing three times its volume in liquid) makes it the ultimate choice for paella.

'Heirloom rices are like fine wine,' says Caryl Levine, whose company, Lotus Foods, imports rice from Asia, Europe, and South America. ' The soil, the climate, and the altitude are all unique to each growing area, giving each rice a distinctive flavor and texture. ' You can buy these varieties at health food stores, some supermarkets, and online at www.tienda.com.

Florence Fabricant


Pale, red-rimmed, translucent slices of lomo, cured pork loin from Spain, air dried and seasoned with paprika and garlic, can adorn a plate of charcuterie or cheese like flower petals. The sweetly spicy, lean meat is best sliced paper thin and is lovely when scattered like shavings of white truffle over a saffron-tinged risotto. Lomo is (available)... from www.tienda.com for $29.50 for a one-and-a-half-pound piece.

photo: Tony Cenicola/The New York Times

Know Your Tuna

Albacore (white)

• Variety: Albacore
• Flavor: Mild and similar to white-meat chicken; can be dry.
• Best for: Sandwiches and salads where a bland flavor is desired. It's slightly more expensive than most supermarket light tunas, but less costly than premium, imported tuna.
• Nutrition: Albacore is higher in heart-healthy omega-3 fatty acids than light tuna. It's also higher in the environmental pollutant mercury, a concern for pregnant women, nursing mothers, young children and women who may become pregnant.
The fat content of albacore varies; smaller tuna caught closer to the surface, such as line-caught albacore from the Pacific Northwest, is higher in fat than larger albacore caught in deep water. Most albacore is packed in water.

Light

• Variety: Usually skipjack, a small tuna with the strongest fish taste of the tuna varieties. Can also include yellowfin. The variety of tuna typically isn't labeled on the can, although some companies do indicate if yellowfin is used because it's considered a cut above skipjack. Yellowfin is lighter in color and firmer than skipjack.
Tongol, another variety of tuna, produces firm chunks even lighter in color than yellowfin. It has a mild flavor and can be found in some natural-foods stores. American companies don't use Bonito del Norte, a firm, white-fleshed fish, but it's considered a premium white tuna in Europe. In a Cook's Illustrated test of olive oil-packed tunas, Ortiz Bonito del Norte won the top three spots; Saveur magazine and the Rosengarten Report, a food newsletter, also have singled it out as one of the best olive oil-packed varieties. Ortiz is imported from Spain and can be hard to find. Mail-order sources include www.tienda.com and www.chefshop.com.
• Flavor: More pronounced than albacore.
• Color: Ranges from nearly white to reddish. European tunas tend to be redder and meatier than U.S. supermarket varieties.
• Best for: Use water-packed in casseroles and mayonnaise-based salads, or other dishes where a milder-tasting fish is desired. For oil-packed, use when the tuna flavor should shine through, such as a nicoise salad and no-cook pasta sauces. If you use it in mayonnaise-based salads, you can use less mayonnaise than for water-packed tuna. Use the best oil-packed simply, in antipasto, tapas and simple salads.
• Nutrition: Light tuna contains omega-3s but in smaller quantities than albacore. It's low in mercury.

Ventresca

The fatty belly of the tuna, this premium cut is familiar to sushi lovers as toro. Exceptionally flavorful, meaty and buttery, ventresca fillets are a luxury best reserved for eating unadorned, with a bit of olive oil and lemon juice or alongside a salad.
Most ventresca comes from tuna imported from Italy and Spain. It's hard to find. A mail-order source is www.tienda.com, where a 4-ounce can of Ortiz Bonito del Norte ventresca goes for $12.50.

Product Primer

Understanding the different types of tuna available on the market will help you find the perfect variety for your cooking needs.

Packed in water
Most Americans choose this variety because it's lower in calories than oil-packed tuna, about 100 calories for a 3-ounce serving vs. 170 calories.

Packed in oil
The best brands of oil-packed tuna are meaty and rich. Choose tuna packed in olive oil rather than vegetable oil for the best flavor. Drain before using.

Packed in its own juices
Some tuna is cooked just once, inside the can after packing, to retain natural juices. (Most canned tuna is cooked twice, before packing and once in the can, for sterilizing.) Most of the boutique brands of Pacific Northwest albacore are available in stores only on the West Coast or by mail-order. For a list of sources, check out www.albatuna.com/Sources/Canned.htm.

Can vs. pouch
Vacuum pouches don't need draining. Many consumers think they have less of a fishy taste than canned.

Solid vs. chunk
Solid or fancy tuna is large chunks with just a few small flakes; chunk tuna contains varying sizes. Choose chunk for mayonnaise-based salads where a smoother texture is desired, tuna noodle casseroles and dips. Use solid when large chunks of tuna work best: a white bean salad, over pasta, a nicoise salad.

The stealth ingredient
Virtually all canned tuna contains vegetable broth, used as a flavor enhancer. If you want to avoid it, look for low-sodium tuna or tuna packed in olive oil, which usually doesn't contain broth, and check ingredient lists, the only place the broth is typically listed. A brand's top-of-the-line offering may not contain it, such as Starkist's Gourmet's Choice Tuna Fillet and Bumblebee's Prime Fillet Solid White Albacore in Water.

No, not Gael Garcáa Bernal; it's ELLE's annual report on the global taste discoveries that have chefs in a stir.

THE NEW CURED: Ham this, ham that! Instead, try Spanish mojama, salt-cured and air-dried tuna loins prized for their refined flavor and texture.

Who Loves It: Chef-owner Tim McKee (Solera, Minneapolis) serves it with a salad of fingerling potatoes and hot peppers. "Not as briny as an oyster, but it's definitely of the sea"; he muses.
How to Use It: Slice thinly and marinate for an hour in extra virgin olive oil and a few drops of lemon juice. Remove from the marinade and serve with a handful of toasted almonds and cold, dry sherry.

Where to Get It: www.tienda.com.

Kathleen Purvis

At first, you may not even recognize them as almonds. Spain's Marconas are flatter and rounder, almost heart-shaped, and golden in color. Grown in the Valencia region of Spain, where they're called "the queen of almonds," they have a soft crunch and rich flavor.

We've been addicted for months, after discovering them at a cheese shop in Manhattan, but we had almost given up on indulging our habit in Charlotte. But we've finally started finding them locally.

The Mitica brand from Forever Cheese in New York is $5.99 for a small tub at Pasta & Provisions and $11 a pound at Dean & Deluca, and Total Wines stocks a vacuum-sealed 20-ounce can from The Peanut Shop of Williamsburg for $9.99. The Peanut Shop version is drier and less salty; the Mitica version is oilier and saltier, but also truer to the authentic taste. You can also find them online in fried and raw versions at www.tienda.com. (Watch out: Much of this year's crop was lost to drought and a late freeze, so prices will go up.)

Raw ones should be put in a skillet with just a smidgen of olive oil and slowly toasted, to preserve their delicate flavor. The other versions can be eaten as they are.

Now that we can find them in the area, there's only one problem: How do we stop eating them?

From the front page of The Wall Street Journal: a story about a Spanish gastronomical delight not available in the United States. It costs close to $1,000 for about 15 pounds, and lots of people are plunking down deposits, anxiously awaiting the day when jamón ibérico will be legal in the United States.

From the "it's a small world" files: The company trying to get jamón ibérico stateside - and that has people taking out what the Journal called "ham futures" - is LaTienda.com, a Williamsburg-based Web site and family-operated store featuring food from Spain.

What makes the ham so special and so expensive? Don Harris, president of La Tienda, explained: The animals are from a 300-year-old strain of free-range hogs with black hoofs that gorge on acorns grown from a certain tree found only in a certain area of Spain. The curing takes up to three years for each one. And no, it's not like prosciutto, which is saltier, Harris says. "It's the difference between a regular ham you'd get in the States and the best of the best."

But because no slaughterhouse in Spain meets U.S. standards, the ham is on the can't-import-to-the-States list.

The adjectives for this marbled ham with "a rich, nutty flavor" are rhapsodic. The Journal reported that "the ham ranks as a national treasure ... on a par with Italy's truffles and Russia's caviar." An Italian Web site calls jamón ibérico "one of the most esteemed gastronomic jewels in Spain." A company in Spain that offers devotees tours to ham country declares it "the caviar of cured hams."

Supply never meets demand. Harris said a Spanish retailer he knows has a three-year waiting list for customers in Europe.

Still, $1,000 for a ham? Maybe a slice of the good old stuff made at that big pork operation headquartered in Smithfield will do. Not so, fans of the Spanish ham told the Journal, including Americans willing to risk a 10-year jail sentence and up to a $50,000 fine for smuggling jamón ibérico into the country.

Harris and his customers taking out the $199 "ham futures" will wait until it's legal. And if approvals and deals in the works pan out with a Spanish slaughterhouse willing to meet U.S. regs, maybe by 2006 the true believers will be able to claim and taste the caviar of ham.

Copyright © 2004, Daily Press

Admiradores del jamón ibérico en estados Unidos se contentan con organizar una especie de mercado de futuros sobre estos apreciados perniles a la espera de que la Administración Bush permita su importación
Pedro Rodríguez

Washington. De acuerdo a ese gran tópico afrancesado, se supone que los habitantes del gigante americano no saben comer. Pero cuando un estadounidense prueba el pata negra, no hay marcha atrás por mucho que la Administración Bush tenga prohibida la importación de esta apoteosis porcina que nada tiene que envidiar al celebrado caviar Beluga o el legendario vacuno de Kobe. A la espera de un eventual permiso del Departamento de Agricultura, los admiradores de esta sublime delicia – renuentes a violar a España – se contentan con participar a este lado del Atlántico en una especie de mercado de futuros de perniles.

Como no podía ser de otra forma, el foro donde se especula con la llegada del jamón ibérico es una emprendedora empresa que por Internet www.tienda.com distribuye en Estados Unidos auténticos productos gastronomitos de España. Como oferta especial para los interesados en hacerse con un pata negra legalizado, la compañía está aceptando desde hace dos anos pedidos previo pago de un depósito de 199 dólares (unos 162 euros) y un precio final que por pernil lo bajará de 800 dólares (651 euros).

Siempre dejando claro que esta operación un tanto especulativa está sujeta a peripecias burocráticas y a la evolución financiera de las divisas de Estados Unidos y la Unión Europea. Para hacerse una idea, en estos momentos los contratos de futuro de un barril de petróleo en Nueva York se cotizan al alza en torno a los 42 dólares (34 euros). En el caso del pata negra, las señales desembolsadas pueden ser recuperadas sen caso de que los compradores se cansen de esperar o se den cuenta de los precios disparados que implica el retroceso cambiarlo del dólar frente al euro.

Hasta la fecha, www.tienda.com – con base en Virginia y fundada por un capellán de la *Navy* destinado en España durante los años sesenta—cuenta con más de un centenar de inversores a la espera de que el Gobierno de Estados Unidos levante el veto existente sobre el jamón ibérico, bajo la excusa de que su importación no regulado representa una amenaza a la salud pública. El mismo argumento utilizado anteriormente para impedir la entrada del jamón serrano en Estados Unidos.

Para solventar las persistentes trabas sobre el pata negra, Latienda.com finalmente se ha asociado con COVAP, una prestigiosa cooperativa de productores del valle de los Pedroches, en Córdoba, dispuestos a someter sus instalaciones a les estrictas especificaciones que marca el Departamento de Agricultura de Estados Unidos. Si todo sale bien, los primeros perniles certificados podrían distribuirse legalmente pro estas latitudes a comienzos de 2007. Para los consumidores ansiosos siempre queda la opción del contrabando aunque teóricamente se trata un delito federal castigado por la Animal Protection Act con penas de hasta diez anos de cárcel y significativas multas. Si bien, lo normal es que la mercancía sea decomisada para su posterior destrucción por los funcionarios de aduanas.

Esta semana, el Wall Street Journal, en uno de sus magistrales reportajes de primera pagina, explicaba detalladamente toda esta saga de truncados placeres gastronómicos. Historia ilustrada a color con un antológico jamón ibérico que a más de uno resulto mucho más sugerente que la portada del último Playboy. Y como prueba sirva el testimonio de Rob Tarpin, inversor de pata negra, que se ha comprado una jamonera a la espera de que se termine de materializar su futuro pernil.

Katy McLaughlin

Rob Tarpin dreams of the day he can sit down to dinner at his home in Naples, Fla., and sink his teeth into a slice of Spanish ham. 

Not just any ham, but jamón ibérico, Spain's legendary, fatty, cured pork. He has even bought a traditional Spanish wooden ham holder to cradle the ham he hopes to buy. "We love that ham," he says. 

The only problem: Jamón ibérico is illegal in the U.S. So Mr. Tarpin -- along with 120 or so other fans of the Spanish delicacy -- has put down a $199 deposit with a Spanish-food Web retailer that entitles him to buy a jamón ibérico if and when it ever becomes legal here. Don Harris, one of the owners of the site, latienda.com, calls the deposits "ham futures." 

It's against the law to import jamón ibérico because Spain doesn't have a single slaughterhouse certified by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Still, the ham ranks as a national treasure in its home country, on a par with Italy's truffles and Russia's caviar. Rows of ibericos -- swaddled in yellow fat, crusted with a thin film of protective mold and sporting occasional strands of wiry black pig hair -- dangle from restaurant ceilings nationwide, with hoofs still attached. 

Aged in cellars for up to three years, the deep red flesh of jamón ibérico has a nutty flavor because the pigs gorge themselves on acorns. 

Restrictions on imports have turned otherwise law-abiding Americans into international ham smugglers. Andres Aguirre, a software engineer in Belmont, Mass., says he got a few slices past the dogs at John F. Kennedy airport customs after a visit to Spain a few years ago. The hounds were distracted by a larger ham stash in another passenger's bag, he says. Mr. Aguirre has purchased futures in two hams. 

People who carry jamón into the U.S. face federal prosecution under the Animal Protection Act -- which aims to keep diseases away from American livestock -- and possible 10-year jail sentences and/or $50,000 fines. But the USDA says it is unaware that anyone has been prosecuted for jamón offenses. While Spain is disease-free, it is classified by the U.S. as posing some risk for classical swine fever and foot-and-mouth disease. 

Nicholas Gutierrez of Smithtown, N.Y., got a taste of jamón last year at a local Spanish restaurant whose chef, a friend of his, served him an illicit slice. Mr. Gutierrez says he invested in a ham future two days later. "My family says I'm out of my mind," he says. 

His hope of getting his hands on a legal ham rests on the shoulders of the Harris family, owners of latienda.com, in Williamsburg, Va. Don Harris, who fell in love with Spanish cuisine in the 1960s when he was stationed in Spain as a Navy chaplain, launched the company with his wife and three sons in the mid-1990s. It has bothered them for years that while they have been successful selling everything from paella rice to saffron, they cannot offer what they consider the Holy Grail of Spanish food. 

The trick is to prove to Spain's skeptical jamón makers that an eager U.S. market awaits them if they will just bend their age-old practices to conform with U.S. regulations. 

So, two years ago, the Harrises decided to pre-sell the ham on their Web site. For the $199 deposit, customers get the right to buy an iberico as soon as U.S. regulatory hurdles are overcome. Since Spain's output is so small -- about four million hams a year -- futures holders are basically paying for guaranteed delivery in the event that U.S. demand outstrips supply. 

The deposits are held in escrow and are refundable in the event people run out of patience or get scared off by the ever-rising price estimate. The ham was originally supposed to cost $59 a pound for the 15 pound hams, but as the dollar has declined against the euro, that has risen to about $70 a pound -- more than $1,000 for the whole ham. In Spain, a top quality iberico currently sells for about $550. 

With their list of 120 investors, the Harrises -- Don, Tim and Jonathan -- headed for Spain to look for producers willing to build a USDA-approved slaughterhouse, or to ship their special pigs to an approved facility elsewhere in Europe for slaughter. The only Spanish meat products exported to the U.S. now are made from animals slaughtered at USDA-certified plants outside Spain. That includes jamon serrano, a less prestigious ham that is similar to Italian prosciutto. 

That's when the USDA's zeal for regulation collided with the Spanish passion for tradition. Jamon iberico is produced in just one region of Spain, mostly by small producers who adhere strictly to time-tested methods. They use only one breed of swine, a black-hoofed Iberian pig indigenous to southwest Spain's Mediterranean forest ecosystem -- where today they still range freely, fattening themselves up on grass, roots and mushrooms. 

And acorns. The most desirable hams -- about 15 percent of production -- come from the pigs that eat as much as 2,000 pounds of acorns in the two or three months before their slaughter. After butchering, the hams are rubbed with salt and then hung to cure for one to three years. 

Starting in 2002, Harris son Tim sat down with some of the most renowned producers, including Sanchez Romero Carvajal and Carnicas Joselito. His business proposal was straightforward: Transport the 350- to 400-pound pigs to Denmark, where they could be slaughtered in a USDA approved facility. 

But the companies scoffed at the suggestion. "They said the hogs would get stressed-out and thirsty, and that would be bad for the ham," Tim Harris says. 

Both Spanish companies say a long truck ride would cause the pigs' adrenaline levels to surge, which could affect the flavor of the meat. The companies also voiced a humanitarian objection. "When you transport them in a truck, they're scared and they suffer," says Rosalia Castellano, a saleswoman for Sanchez Romero Carvajal. 

In more meetings, producers explained that exporting to the U.S. doesn't make economic sense for them. That's because it's impossible for many companies to increase production since they can only raise as many Iberian pigs as they have Mediterranean forest and acorns to sustain them. They already sell out their entire production to the Spanish market alone -- often years in advance. 

It didn't help that many Spanish producers find the U.S. regulations unfair to begin with. "We've been eating jamón ibérico in Spain for over 2,000 years and no one has ever died from eating it," says Miguel Ullibarri of Real Iberico, a trade group that promotes jamon iberico. 

After months of fruitless meetings, late last year the Harrises switched tactics and targeted larger companies including Campofrio, Spain's biggest meat processor. There, they got some good news: Campofrio had just built a slaughterhouse in Spain to U.S. specifications so it had a good shot at meeting USDA standards. 

Don Harris fired off an exuberant e-mail to ham futures holders. "We have great news from Spain!" The first hams should ship by mid-2005, he predicted. 

But earlier this year, that dream was dashed. Campofrio sold its fresh-meat division to another company, putting the iberico project on ice. 

Since then, four of the ham futures holders have bailed out. But most are hanging on. Since February, the Harrises have been working on a deal with Covap, a Spanish agricultural cooperative in Cordoba that has a new slaughterhouse. It plans to apply for USDA certification in the next year or so. 

So if all goes well, Mr. Tarpin, the Florida futures holder, will have a ham in his cradle by early 2007. He's already planning the party.

Unabashed Companion for a Piquant Dish
Florence Fabricant

The albariño grape -- or alvarinho, as it is called in Portuguese -- makes wines with many personalities.

With the light, steely and herbaceous examples from vineyards often cooled by salty Atlantic breezes, I am happy to open some sweetly briny littleneck clams to eat on the half shell. No recipe is needed for a treat like that.

Before dinner in Galicia, in northwestern Spain, an albariño might be accompanied by sautéed pimientos de padrón, - small, green, slightly piquant chilies. These are sometimes available fresh in the United States, from sources including Tienda. Some chili flakes can also energize the clams.

Then there are attractive albariños with floral allure, body and fruit. These demand more, so I would consider rich, fresh sea urchins. Or I might broil littlenecks coated in garlicky bread crumbs moistened with fragrant green olive oil, or even topped with crumbled Portuguese linguica sausage.

Fish is a reliable main course. I went to the market with an open mind and found a fresh black sea bass. Knowing how well the wines handle herbs and a touch of spice, I concocted a condiment, along the lines of the charmoula green sauce of Morocco, using cilantro, mint, garlic, paprika, lemon and olive oil.

First came a ceviche of fresh Nantucket bay scallops briefly marinated in lime juice, with scallions and avocado. The fish followed, with orzo tossed with diced bell peppers. After a green salad, the menu was rounded out with some cheeses -- including Évora, a salty Portuguese sheep cheese, and Roncal, a nutty-tasting cheese from northern Spain -- along with pears and honey.

And from start to finish, all we needed in our glasses was Albariño.

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