We Took One Bite in Barcelona. Everything Changed.
My wife Sherryne and I were in Barcelona when we tried Iberico pork for the first time. We had no idea pork could taste like that. Rich, marbled, full of flavor — nothing like what we'd been eating our whole lives.
We came home and did something a little obsessive. We ran a blind taste test — Berkshire, Kurobuta, Iberico, and Mangalitsa. Bacon, chops, ham, roast from each breed. Berkshire won on ham, we'll give them that. But on every other cut? Mangalitsa wasn't a competition. The difference is visible before you even cook it. I tell people at the farmers market: think of the nicest pork chop you've ever seen at a butcher. Then I show them our rib chop and ask one simple question — ever seen pork this red?
That's intramuscular fat. That's what flavor looks like.
We started with six Mangalitsas — Pumba the matriarch and five piglets: Hamlet, Miss Piggy, Babe, Curly, and Piglet. Babe arrived already bred and in November we welcomed our first births — Whistle and Belle. Whistle, our gentle giant boar, was so good-natured he became our logo. Today our herd includes Imre, a registered Red Mangalitsa, and Oreo, a registered Swallow Belly. When I'm not fixing fences I'm sitting in the field getting cornered by Wilbur and Whistle — our boars who've decided belly scratches and ear rubs are non-negotiable. These aren't production units. They're animals we know by name.
Our family has raised beef and hair sheep for generations. We came to Mangalitsa after our Red Angus cattle struggled to climatize from Kansas to the Texas heat. That experience taught us something important — raise animals bred for where you are. Mangalitsa thrives here. And our land works with us: lake access keeps them cool through brutal Texas summers, and our acres of live oaks drop acorns every fall. Natural acorn finishing on Texas pasture — the same practice that makes Spanish Iberico pata negra the most prized pork in the world. We didn't engineer that. The land just works with us.