2004

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.

Eliza Maclean is raising the cutest hogs on her eleven acres in Orange County. Three baby squealers rushed out to drink their morning milk before diving headfirst back into their bedding to sleep. Large mama hogs lingered outside the barn door, waiting for their grain. Picture-perfect pink, spotted, and brown piglets came running from several fields when they spotted Eliza with the feed bucket. Farming is never easy, but a small production hog farm can be profitable, according to Eliza. She’s been working her farm for two years now, growing her passel of hogs from five to fifty.