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How to Smuggle a Ham
That amazing jamón you picked up on your trip probably isn't legal to bring home. But what if you want to try anyway?
Ah, the joys of international travel: sampling charcuterie, nibbling salami, spending quality time with local hams. For me, it started out innocently enough: A shrink-wrapped prosciutto for my father purchased from a butcher in Rome. "Molto bene, signora, to bring on plane," he assured me, and to be perfectly honest, I had my doubts. But the butcher seemed so very sincere in his promise that the ham was perfectly legal to transport over country borders—who was I to argue? Just to err on the side of caution though, I wrapped my cured pork treasure in deep layers of newly-acquired merino sweaters, and boarded the plane with fingers crossed.
Back in JFK, my eyes glazing over as I surveyed the bags on the luggage carousel, I noticed my husband side-stepping away from me. Far away. All the way to the other side of the baggage carousel. Then I noticed that headed my way to say hello was an adorable beagle with floppy ears, droopy eyes, an official Customs badge, and a stern-looking Customs Agent handler.
Nearly every carnivorous traveler I've spoken with has their own version of the hidden suitcase ham—and all profess to not really being entirely clear on the relative illegality of what they're attempting to bring home through customs. I have to assume though, that when someone tells me they stuffed jambon from France in their Uggs (thinking the sheepskin lining would mask the scent), that they've come to terms with their duplicitous nature—at least, when it comes to comestibles.
Ah, the joys of international travel: sampling charcuterie, nibbling salami, spending quality time with local hams. For me, it started out innocently enough: A shrink-wrapped prosciutto for my father purchased from a butcher in Rome. "Molto bene, signora, to bring on plane," he assured me, and to be perfectly honest, I had my doubts. But the butcher seemed so very sincere in his promise that the ham was perfectly legal to transport over country borders—who was I to argue? Just to err on the side of caution though, I wrapped my cured pork treasure in deep layers of newly-acquired merino sweaters, and boarded the plane with fingers crossed.
Back in JFK, my eyes glazing over as I surveyed the bags on the luggage carousel, I noticed my husband side-stepping away from me. Far away. All the way to the other side of the baggage carousel. Then I noticed that headed my way to say hello was an adorable beagle with floppy ears, droopy eyes, an official Customs badge, and a stern-looking Customs Agent handler.
Nearly every carnivorous traveler I've spoken with has their own version of the hidden suitcase ham—and all profess to not really being entirely clear on the relative illegality of what they're attempting to bring home through customs. I have to assume though, that when someone tells me they stuffed jambon from France in their Uggs (thinking the sheepskin lining would mask the scent), that they've come to terms with their duplicitous nature—at least, when it comes to comestibles.
More at link:
http://www.saveur.com/article/Travels/How-to-Smuggle-a-Ham
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