Parma & The Art of Prosciutto

To tap into the origins of creative expression would be to unearth the source of humanity itself, intertwined as they have been, for over 200,000 years. As to why we humans feel the need to create art, long-established fact quickly gives way to malleable opinion. For many this is not an issue of pressing concern; the processes of creation – when going well – provide ample reassurance that this is a path worth walking. Although the ‘why’ - and much else concerning creativity - remains a mystery, through generational practice we humans have fostered a greater understanding of both artistic expression and our own nature. Prehistoric cave paintings such as those found in Altamira, as well as contemporary portraits drawn in solitary confinement on Rikers Island, and even watercolours painted on the International Space Station, all contribute to the overwhelming consensus that where there is humanity, there will be art. 

Cities, where humanity is concentrated to an excruciating degree, have proven to be the ultimate hotbed for art of all forms. This fact is evidenced throughout history; from the naturalistic bronze, stone, and terracotta sculptures created at Ilé-Ifè between 1200 and 1400 A.D, to the societal wide creativity of ‘The Old Vienna’ immortalised in Stefan Zweig’s The World of Yesterday. This is not to say that all cities are habitats where creativity can take root. Indeed, contemporary challenges such as competitive global market economies undoubtedly disrupt traditional cultures where unique art forms have developed, and often cause once distinctive practices, cities and even societies to homogenize. Yet, some urban bastions of creative, independent expression still remain, and Parma, a city in the Italian region of Emilia-Romagna, is undoubtedly one of them. 

Ever since the city was founded by the Roman Empire over 2200 years ago, every facet of life within Parma has been shaped, to a great degree, by the arts. This is most readily evident in the architecture, although creativity has graced Parma’s air as much as it’s stone; even now you may still hear exquisite opera music composed by the great Giuseppe Verdi echoing through the streets. Factor in that Parma was the birthplace of Parmigianino, and the predominant setting for other great painters such as Correggio, and one quickly understands the sheer breadth and depth of Parma’s artistic past. Despite the many laurels that Parma has accrued through its storied lifetime, it remains a city averse to resting on them, refusing to become obsessed with its artistic antiquity, or fixated on traditional mediums. Rather, as with any good patron, Parma belittles no art, and seems to be forever searching for new expressions, as evidenced by the city’s romantic flings with football, cuisine, and even shopping as cultural endeavours. 

Whilst the former has suffered a crippling fall from grace, and the latter has yet to evolve into anything other than a favoured pastime, Parma’s cuisine remains a highly regarded artform, by both those who call the city home and those from further afield. Situated as it is within the so-called ‘Italian Food Valley’, to think of Parma as anything less than one of the gastronomic centres of the country, continent, and world would be to do the city a monstrous disservice. Unlike other gastronomic centres, such as Paris, Parma has not curated it’s culinary acclaim solely by celebrating the chefs who have pursued their passion within the city’s boundaries. Rather, Parma has been launched to gastronomic prominence – and kept there – by the stoic artisans who produce the city’s most beloved products. This writer is not only alluding to the highly trained maestro salatore, and the indomitable Battitore - whose roles in the production of Prosciutto di Parma and Parmigiano Reggiano respectfully, ensure the continued excellence of Parma’s cultural exports – but also the countless others who contribute to Parma’s culinary dynasty. Many of these faces, unknown outside of their local community, are nonetheless treated with the respect their title of artisan infers. For the citizens of Parma, it matters not whether you are curing a ham or retouching the paintings which adorn the Cattedrale di Parma, if you are carrying on the city’s history of artistic expression then you are to be respected. 

Although the crystalline cheese is rightly treated as a favourite son of the city, it is Prosciutto di Parma, or Parma Ham, which holds the esteemed position of the city’s gastronomic flagbearer. As one can imagine this title has not been allocated on a whim. Cured hams have formed an integral part of life in the area for millennia; in the second century B.C. Cato the Elder, a Roman senator and historian, wrote in his robust work, De Agri Coltura, of production techniques, from what was then the heart of Cisalpine Gaul, that are nearly identical to today’s procedures. Aside from recording the first known history of the ham, Cato was also playing his part in what was to become another constant in the life of Prosciutto d Parma; a near endless wave of attention from literary figures. Written references abound, from the mock-heroic, scrawling lyricisms of Italian poet, Alessandro Tassoni to the sternly struck typing’s of Eugen Dollman, a Nazi interpreter and senior diplomat. Yet, when it comes to Prosciutto di Parma, historical, political, social, and temporal divisions seem to subside, the unchanging brilliance of Prosciutto di Parma, like any great masterpiece, transcends humanity’s divisions and offers a tender connection between any who have fallen for Parma’s perfectly cured delight.

The historical, social, and political breadth of Prosciutto di Parma’s admirers attests not only to the sustained excellence of the ham but also to its transformation from delicacy of the established elite to a favoured product of an increasingly universal consumer body. However, it would be amiss to state that exportation is the only global aspect of a product whose localisation is safeguarded by the EU’s Protected Designation of Origin status. Indeed, the three traditional breeds of heavy pig deemed suitable for the creation of Prosciutto di Parma by the European Commission, Large White, Landrace, and Duroc have all been imported to Italy from Yorkshire, Denmark, and the United States of America respectively, although some farmers are beginning to pivot back to the area’s native black pigs, maiale nero and maiale grigio. Despite their global heritage the pigs upbringing is unmistakably Italian - they are reared on barley, maize and whey that is created as a by-product of Parmigiano Reggiano – as are the post slaughter process where the only ingredients added to the pork are Italian sea salt, air, and time. 

Good things in life go to those who wait, is the old adage, and whilst this writer is sure it was not phrased with ham production in mind, its core message of patience could not be more applicable to the processes behind Prosciutto di Parma. Curing, greasing, hanging, and washing all play a part in turning the raw pork into the silky mouthful that is so widely adored. These stages of production are devoid of chemical elements, take at the very least a year, and are finished with a truly Italian flourish where an inspector plunges the traditional ago di osso di cavallo - a needle made of horse bone – into the ham at various points. The bone, which both absorbs and releases scents remarkably quickly, is lifted to his nose where their extensively trained olfactory systems can discern whether the ham is sufficiently cured, and up to the consortium’s exacting standards. 

As fascinating as they are, let us not dwell on the processes which lie behind Prosciutto di Parma’s production. These crucial rituals, whilst fascinating to learn about, can do little to explain the ham’s true excellence; much like the rigorous daily training of an established musician fails to explain the captivating power they have when performing. True artistry can only be revealed when under the lights, or in Parma Ham’s case, on the table. This was not a sentiment lost on Verdi, who as a descendant of two generations of Northern Italian restaurant owners and grocers came by his love of Prosciutto as naturally as he came to speak Italian. The great composer’s convivial Emilian dinners were the perfect platform for Prosciutto di Parma to shine. The ham was, and still is, best served as charcuterie, where its delicate, umami flavour notes can captivate the mouth in a virtuoso solo performance. 

Prosciutto di Parma is no one trick pony however, and pairings provide a contrast which challenge the ham, bringing out aspects of its flavour that may have been previously overlooked. Perhaps the most favoured coupling is Prosciutto di Parma and another of Northern Italy’s beloved children, Pinot Grigio. As the Northern grapes from this variety are picked earlier than their cousins throughout the rest of the country, the wine is lighter in body, crisper on the tongue, whilst still providing the mild fruity flavours – predominately melon, peach, and green apple – that it is famed for. When paired together the creamy, prodigal, individual performance of the Prosciutto is transformed into a collaborative discourse, more akin to jazz than opera, where the opposing flavours riff off one another, providing flavour filled emphasis through confrontation. It is this multifaceted nature, when combined with the ham’s historic ancestry, and unrivalled excellence, that marks Prosciutto di Parma as the true epitome of Parma’s artistic eminence. A maestro, 2000 years in the making, who still has plenty of astounding performances to give.

Jacob Smith

Jacob is a writer whose focus centres on the ever-evolving relationship between peoples. He has a long-held affinity for food and cooking, a fact chiefly attributable to his mother, Liz. Outside of writing, Jacob is the Social media and Communications Officer for Incomindios UK, the British branch of a Swiss-based indigenous rights organisation and is  currently concluding his MA Conflict, Security & Development at the University of Exeter.