“Culatello” is cut from the most prized muscular portion of the pig’s hind leg. This unique ham lives among the old, damp cellars on the “Strada del Culatello” (or “Culatello Way”), an endless itinerary of local stops nestled in the fog of the Po Valley, reminiscent of the good old days when agreements were built on keeping one’s word and where many of the current owners became such with nothing but a firm handshake straight out of the past...
Parma is the only province where you say salume in the singular (instead of the plural salumi). This should offer some insight into the uniqueness behind every single pork product here. Starting, obviously, with culatello.
The birth of culatello
Culatello already existed in the lowlands of Parma as early as 1300, but it was called “prosciutto senz’osso” (boneless prosciutto) for reasons related to the Church, which would not have appreciated the use of its current name at the time (culatello literally means “little butt”). Like just about everything, culatello was born of necessity: the need to age ham in a very humid climate. Since the pig’s leg couldn’t be aged due to too much humidity, the prosciutto needed to be deboned and the “fiocco” section separated from the culatello. So culatello is essentially the result of fog, cold, and humidity, in addition to the ingenuity of the locals who skillfully reinvented a product based on their needs and the local conditions. Culatello is crafted using ancient artisanal skills passed down from generation to generation. Once it’s salted, twine is wrapped around the meat in a spiral pattern, providing its signature pear shape. It’s hung “nude” for its first resting period, after which it is massaged, allowing the salt to penetrate even further. After a few days, it’s “dressed” with the pig’s bladder, encased in a tight rope net, and aged for 12 to 24 months. Once ready, it’s always presented in its large-mesh twine netting. Families have always made it this way. Poorer ones almost always to sell, as it was a food for the nobility and the earnings allowed at least another pig to be purchased. Or it was kept for special occasions, for example, as a gift to the doctor if he saved someone’s wife during childbirth, or as present for the wedding of a child. The traditions of that time remain today in the cultural heritage of Parma’s families: a gift to be given and enjoyed for important occasions, nurturing a deep atavistic respect for the delicacy. Its current name only appeared around 1730.
Culatello di Zibello: DOP label and Slow Food Presidia
Since the Italian DOP label has made the designation of origin obligatory for the product, we are now 100% sure of the impostors that were being sold under its illustrious name – although in reality, there are first-rate culatello producers that fall outside of the DOP label. Anselmo Bocci, for example, hasn’t been not included merely because it’s located in Fornovo di Taro, which is still in the province of Parma but not within the designated area of production. Forming part of the Consortium are 23 producers in the towns of Polesine, Busseto, Soragna, Roccabianca, San Secondo, Sissa, Colorno and, obviously, Zibello. Even though each producer must abide by the production regulations, no culatello is identical to another, as what makes it so different and unique is – apart from the quality of the meat and the skills of the butcher – the cellar and its molds. As a matter of fact, many producers have abandoned this practice to due modern housing with heating systems. But the person responsible for having the product protected under the DOP label, who fought for culatello to become a Slow Food Presidia product, who did everything possible to make this delicacy known throughout the world, is none other than renowned Italian chef Massimo Spigaroli.

Massimo Spigaroli and the Antica Corte Pallavicina
When they would go around to buy culatello for the tavern, Massimo Spigaroli’s father taught him to distinguish the scents of the cellars. Those smells have stayed with him and made him an expert in the first place. The Spigarolis were “Verdi” farmers, which meant that, like other families in the Parma area, they worked for the great musician Giuseppe Verdi, not only on his land, but also as at-home pork butchers. In fact, the Spigarolis were the type of peasants who only saw culatello in passing, as it was always being sold first to the aristocrats and then to the tavern. At the end of the 19th century, the family moved to the Antica Corte Pallavicina, near the river, where in 1920 Grandfather Luigi founded the first ferry with a wooden shack at each of the two terminals, which the women of the family transformed into two taverns (where they offered various types of culatello from the area). From this moment on, all of the products from the farm were transformed: milk into cheese, grapes into wine, fruit into jams, flour into bread. In short, the same activities that still continue today. Later on, when the Antica Corte was abandoned, taken over by the state, and put up for sale, the Spigaroli family did not hesitate to purchase it – something that, deep down, had never really stopped being theirs. So after 20 years of renovations, Antica Corta Pallavicina continues with what the Spigarolis have always proven to do best: agriculture, hospitality, food, and above all, the production of refined, exquisite culatello. Spigaroli’s variety is aged for no less than 12 months in a unique, ancient cellar full of history and the right kinds of mold. They produce 8,000 pieces from local white pigs and 250 from black pigs, continually brushing off any mold that might form on the meat. The ham is so popular that it’s already reserved at least two years in advance by figures such as Italian chef Massimo Bottura and even Prince Charles – a culinary futures contract of sorts. As his mother would always tell him: “Let the world know who you are and what you do, otherwise no one will come to you.”

The “Culatello Supremo”
Culatello is such a serious topic that there’s even a fellowship on its behalf. It meets every year at the castle-palace of Rocca Meli Lupi, presided over by the Grand Master, Prince Diofebo di Soragna. Donning their red cloaks and feathered caps, they come together to vote for the “Culatello Supremo” and the “Gran Culatello,” judged by their color, aroma, texture, flavor, and aftertaste. Each culatello is presented with no mention of the producer’s name. After the first selection of 25, they are then narrowed down to 10, and finally the two winners. Among the participants have been some famous Italian actors, such as Renato Pozzetto, and other acclaimed figures, all in secret of course.
How to enjoy and pair culatello
Culatello should be eaten on its own, with your hands and a bit of wine. What kind? The only quality to consider when choosing the right wine is that it doesn’t mask the rosy, musky flavor of the culatello. Some great options are Strologo Brut, a local traditional method variety, or even champagne or Franciacorta. Alternatively, some white wines also work well, such as a Trebbiano, Verdicchio, or Riesling.
Spalla Cruda di Palasone and Nebbione dell’Antica Ardenga
In addition to a masterful culatello, at his small company Antica Ardenga, Massimo Pezzani (a producer of one of the DOP label varieties) produces other similar but less-known products, such as Spalla Cruda. To protect its preservative-free aging, particularly in the bone-in version, Spalla has become a Slow Food Presidia product. After being cleaned and trimmed of the rind, it is vigorously rubbed with coarse sea salt and pepper before being placed upside down in a basin on top of supports that prevent it from coming into contact with any liquids released. The process is repeated for around eight days, then once the salting phase is complete, the meat is encased in the pig’s bladder. But it doesn’t end here, as there are countless ways to craft culatello. Massimo Pezzani patented his very own alternative product: Nebbione dell’Antica Ardenga, or a halfway point between culatello and culatta, encased in the pig’s bladder just like culatello.

Photosh by Stefano Triulzi

