We’re Jamón, and I hope you like Jamón too
November 7, 2011 Leave a Comment
Sometimes, fate steps in and lends a ham.
No sooner than we’d strolled into Madrid’s famous Plaza Mayor, we stumbled upon an impossibly large white pavilion. Surrounding signs proclaimed the glorious news:
Sweet baby ham.
If there’s one thing the Spanish know, it’s cured meats. And wine. And beer. And food generally. An- well, the Spanish know quite a bit, as a weekend in Madrid revealed, but here this was all about the Iberico.
Inside, the walls were lined with dozens of stalls, from each of which hung the wares of as many different producers. Aproned men solemnly attended their hams, delicately slicing off paper-thin pieces and arranging them on plates. I imagine brain surgery to be carried out with less precision and care.
We selected our booth using that great old traveller’s rule – the busiest damned stall we could find.
These guys look happy. And who wouldn’t be?
What could be tastier than a plate of delicious ham?
In case you thought that to be rhetorical, the answer is: A plate of delicious ham, and a cold Spanish lager.
Madrid was fantastic, by the way. A beautiful city, filled with beautiful people.
But nothing – I repeat, nothing – beats a random ham.
