Last week sometime my boss and I were talking about how much we enjoyed a nice bit of ham.
Hams are big in Spain. They don't go for boiled or roast ham anywhere near so much as for cured ham. Lots of bars have pigs legs hanging from the ceiling ready for sale. Lots more have a single ham behind the counter that they carve up as customers ask for slices. There are special knives for cutting it. In some restaurants people are employed specifically to cut the ham off the leg in almost transparent slices. Regions and producers are famous for their hams. There are D.O. hams (a guarantee of regional authenticity), acorn fed hams, snow cured hams, white and black hams. People argue about ham. People pontificate about ham as people do on wines and cigars.
Luckily for us the bar in Rodriguillo specialises in ham so as we happened to be driving that way we popped in for a plateful. Scrummy.
An old, temporarily skinnier but still flabby, red nosed, white haired Briton rambles on, at length, about things Spanish
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