Gunthorp's Hickory Smoked Duroc Bacon

Your bacon can take the heat because it’s cured. Curing is a traditional way to preserve meat that pre-dates the invention of refrigeration by several thousand years. Curing keeps meat safe by making it inhospitable to the microbes that would otherwise cause rot. Most commonly, this is done by salting, smoking, and drying.

When cured slowly and traditionally, these techniques not only make the meat safe to keep, they also make it extra delicious.

How does it ship?

In the warmer months (early April to mid September), we ship bacon with two business day service plus warm weather care. Dry ice will evaporate, ice packs may melt, but they will have done their job of preventing the bacon from cooking on its journey. The rest of the year (late September to the end of March), the bacon will ship with our flat rate service (1-4 business days). 

When should I be concerned?

There are some uh-oh signs. If the packaging is puffy or torn, if the color looks grey or un-bacony, or if there are any unusual odors, then that means the bacon might not have survived the trip. Let us know and we’ll make it right!

When your bacon arrives, you can store it in the refrigerator or the freezer. Once the bacon is opened, it will be good in the fridge for about a week. Unopened bacon in the vacuum-sealed package will keep for about 3 weeks in the fridge and up to 12 months in the freezer, so seize the opportunity to stock up!

Good winemakers often make wine from the grapes grown in their own vineyards. Excellent olive oils are most often pressed from the olives of a single estate’s groves. Farmstead cheeses, made only with the milk of the cheesemaker’s own herd, are revered at most good cheese counters. Being involved in every step of the process creates tastier food because the makers can tweak any part of the system. The cheesemaker that doesn’t like the way the milk is tasting can change the field where the animals are grazing or adjust their supplemental feed. If recent heavy rains have been watering down the milk, they can adjust the recipe.

But there are next to no “farmstead” meats. There is almost nowhere in the US where the farm, the abattoir (slaughterhouse), and the curing room are all the same place.

Why is it so rare to have farmstead bacon?

The short answer is regulation. To run an abattoir, you have to have a USDA inspector on site whenever you’re processing animals. You also have to produce a mountain of paperwork to show that everything was done to keep the food safe. That regulation has its benefits—it (hopefully) stops us from ever living with another jungle like the one described by Upton Sinclair. But it is an immense burden for anyone trying to run a small operation. Little guys trying to do it all have been effectively squeezed out of the market. That is, nearly all the little guys.

Greg Gunthorp is one of very few farmstead meat makers in the country.

Two decades ago, Greg Gunthorp realized there was no way he could make a living raising pigs on pasture when he was forced to sell them for just five cents a pound—lower than the price during the depression. But Greg, a fourth-generation pig farmer who grew up knowing he wanted to raise pigs, wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. So he decided to build his own processing plant and sell pork instead of pigs. His meats are a treasure.

Greg does it all, and you can taste the difference.

Greg raises heritage breed Duroc pigs. They live their whole lives out on pasture. They get as much non-GMO grain as they want, plus their pick of whatever grows in their woods. They’re never given hormones, growth promotants, or antibiotics. When their time has come, they go to the abattoir on the same property where they’ve spent their whole lives. Greg and his team then break down the cuts. Many are sold fresh to local restaurants, butcher shops, and meat curers (including Smoking Goose, the folks behind our Zingerman’s exclusive pecan-smoked ham).

Greg makes his own bacon. He dry cures the pork bellies in a mix of salt and celery salt for 7 days. They’re smoked in the on-site smokehouse over a mix of applewood and hickory logs. The result is a fantastic, flavorful bacon that Greg oversees from farrow to fork. It’s as delicious as it is rare.

People have been curing meats for millennia. For most of that time, no one understood the chemistry behind the process. But for centuries before refrigeration was invented, even if folks didn’t know why curing worked, they knew that once it was done—a process that could take a few weeks to a few years, depending on the size of the cut and the style of curing—the cured meats would keep for months on end. In the 20th century, amid the discovery of vitamins and preservatives and all sorts of food technology advances, scientists figured out the principles that made cured meats possible. In the process, they found shortcuts—and later on, other scientists discovered that maybe those shortcuts weren’t so great after all.

Here’s a summary of how it all works in a brief voyage through high school chemistry

(With apologies to mad scientists if I get any of the specifics incorrect.)

To make a salami, sodium nitrate, NaNO₃ is added to the meat and seasonings before they’re stuffed into the mostly air-proof casing. Inside, the bacteria and microbial organisms live in an anaerobic environment—no oxygen.

Their activity sucks one of the three oxygen molecules away, turning sodium nitrate into sodium nitrite, NaNO₂. Sodium nitrite is unstable and aggressive to microbes. It’s the compound that does the real work of curing, making the salami safe for us to eat.

While it does its job, the sodium and another oxygen molecule is leeched off. What’s left is nitric oxide, NO. This fixes the pigment color, keeping salami red. This molecule is safe.

Even though we started the cure with NaNO₃ (sodium nitrate) we ended up with NO (nitric oxide). A salami maker may add 150 parts per million of sodium nitrate to start the cure, but only 2 or 3 PPM are left. The traditional thirty day curing process eliminates the substance.

So if cured salami doesn’t have any sodium nitrate or nitrite left, why are people concerned about it?

While traditionally cured meat doesn’t have any sodium nitrate/nitrite, non-traditionally cured meat may. During the middle of the last century, in between inventing Twinkies and Cheez Whiz, food scientists deciphered the chemistry that I just described. The scientists correctly identified sodium nitrite (NaNO₂) as the money molecule. It did the majority of the curing work. NaNO₃ didn’t seem to do much, so they experimented with adding NO₂ directly to the meat, cutting NO₃ out of the game. It worked. It saved time. Meat could be cured almost overnight. It could go to stores faster. It was a huge success.

Sort of. The problem is when the cure is rushed, the nitrite, NO₂, doesn’t disappear like it does when you cure traditionally over thirty days. It’s still present in the meat. NO₂ is a carcinogen.

That’s the reason people worry about nitrate cured salami and bacon. Meats may be cured with sodium nitrite—not nitrate—and rushed to market when the nitrite carcinogen is still present. This isn’t true for the cured meats we carry.

What about the “no nitrate” meat at supermarkets?

Nitrates are necessary for curing meat. You can’t cure without them and keep meat pink and safe. But if nitrates are necessary for curing meat, why do some labels say “nitrate free”?

The trick is celery. It’s high in nitrates. Concentrated celery juice is used in the curing, instead of the naturally occurring mineral sodium nitrate. The FDA allows it to be called “Natural Flavor” instead of “Sodium Nitrate.” The words may be different, but the chemistry behind it is the same.

You can taste both curing methods for yourself by frying up the two bacons from Nueske’s. The classic Applewood Smoked is slowly cured with traditional mineral nitrates. The Cherrywood Smoked is labeled “uncured” because it’s made with celery juice.