Smithfield Foods Closes the Only Remaining Smokehouse Making Genuine Smithfield Ham
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A sad day in Hamtown: Smithfield Foods closes the only remaining smokehouse making genuine Smithfield ham By Gregory S. Schneider (but edited for length by Dr. Drzyzga) July 20, 2018 Salted hams curing in Tommy Darden’s smokehouse in Isle of Wight County, VA. (Gregory S. Schneider/TWP) SMITHFIELD, Virginia — Although the town was named after a colonial British Captain, Arthur Smith, the local charity run is called the Hog Jog; the mascot for the wine festival is Pig-o-noir; the town museum promises the “World’s Oldest Ham;” the rescue truck at the fire department is named “Hamtown Heavy;” and October brings the Bacon & Bourbon Fest. You could say Smithfield is obsessed with pork, but that would understate how deeply hogs are woven into the history and life of this town of 8,300 on a hill overlooking the Pagan River. So, unsurprisingly, it has come as a shock that Smithfield Foods is shuttering the last smokehouse that produces the area’s signature product, the genuine Smithfield ham. “Really? You’re going to do this?” was the reaction of former Smithfield Foods executive Herb De Groft, 77. The salty, long-cured ham has been a regional staple since the English colonists and their hogs arrived at nearby Jamestown in the early 1600s. There is a whole section of Virginia State Code — Title 3.2, Chapter 54, Article 4 — entitled “Smithfield Hams.” Just as the French define and protect Champagne and Georgians define and protect the Vidalia Onion, Virginia law dictates that genuine Smithfield ham must be cured in Smithfield. “Anybody can make a ham,” said Jennifer England, director of the local museum. “But a Smithfield ham can only come from within the town itself.” Many smokehouses once sat cheek by jowl, so to speak, in this little town, but local ham producers have been consolidating for years. Names like Gwaltney, Luter, and Todd — a roll call that can make an old Virginian’s mouth start to water — were absorbed one by one into the giant Smithfield Foods, which itself was purchased five years ago by the Chinese conglomerate Shuanghui Group. An outsider might think selling out to a foreign company would be the thing that set off local alarm bells. But the headquarters have remained in the same beautiful riverfront complex, the executives are all still American, and Smithfield Foods stepped up its involvement in local charities and community events. The huge meatpacking plant on the edge of town slaughters more than 10,000 hogs per day. On a hot summer afternoon, the sickly sweet smell of slaughter can settle on the downtown. Some buildings have been absorbing hog aroma since before the Revolution. “They say that’s the smell of money,” said Caroline Darden Hurt, 75, a retired history teacher whose family has farmed in the area since the 1600s. Most country hams are short-cut. A Smithfield ham is long-cut, with the loin still attached. Old-timers will tell you the curing process — high in the smokehouse rafters over a long, sweltering summer — creates particular amino acids and salt deposits as the moisture disappears from the meat. But it’s more than that. It is history and culture in food form. The first English settlers salted hams to preserve them; the Native Americans showed them how to smoke meats. A Smithfield ham is the result of both – salting and smoking. Paired with a biscuit, served with Brunswick stew or peanut soup, finished with chocolate pie — that’s southside Virginia; the sandy soil, the pine trees, the hot, the peanut fields, and the ham. Hurt, the retired history teacher, remembers people sharing hams on Sundays. “Growing up, you could always tell one farmer’s ham from another’s. There were subtle differences. A ham cured in Suffolk or from somewhere else just doesn’t taste the same as a Smithfield,” she said. A genuine Smithfield ham can cost up to $200. It starts when a hog destined to become a Smithfield ham is turned loose on the region’s harvested peanut fields to glean the remainders; the peanut oils infuse the meat. Creating a Smithfield ham from the hog takes more commitment. The cut hams are coated in salt and left to cure for more than a month; hung in a smokehouse and smoked for up to a week until the color looks right; then left to hang and age for six months or more. Cooking a Smithfield ham is another ritual, often caught up with Thanksgiving or Christmas memories. The salty meat soaks for a day before being washed, cooked, and sliced tissue- thin. Tommy Darden is worried about the last smokehouse in town closing. “We’re really not sure what that’s going to entail, but we think it’s not going to be good,” he said. “It’s something that made us famous, something that put us on the map, something that everybody knows and relates to … and it’s not going to be here.” Darden sighed, “I like to eat a chicken salad sandwich with a slice of ham on it and tomato. To me, that’s absolute good.” .