The jamón went down to Georgia

Even from a distance, the pigs looked odd. It was hard to see them clearly at first; heavy rains had carved ruts into the dirt road that led into the pasture, and every time the Jeep hit bottom, my glasses slid down my nose. But as we jolted forward, the mass of dark bodies crowding… » Read More

Media Partner
This Story’s Impact
  • Eater
    More than 5 million page views a month