Decisions by Design | Edition 26

Lessons from the Dehesa 
EDITION | 26 

This past winter, our family traveled to Spain. Part vacation. Part research.

We are building a silva pasture this spring at Addy Farm, a managed, biodiverse landscape modeled on one of the oldest agricultural systems in the world. We went to see it firsthand. To walk the land. To understand what we were actually trying to create before we began.

The Dehesa is a 2,000-year-old biodynamic forest in the southwest of the Iberian Peninsula. Holm oak and cork oak as far as you can see. Ancient trees. Open sky. A landscape that has been tended, not conquered.

It is also where the finest Iberian ham in the world is made.

And the system that produces it will not be rushed. Not in any direction.

Each pig is given three hectares of land during the montanera, the final fattening season. They roam freely through forests of holm oak and cork oak, eating up to ten kilograms of acorns, bellotas, a day. That walking is not incidental. It is the mechanism. The movement integrates the fat into the muscle, creating the marbling that gives Jamón Ibérico de Bellota its extraordinary depth of flavor. After slaughter, the ham cures for up to four years.

Some of the oaks that drop those acorns are over 250 years old.

Pigs that are crossbred for size, contained, and grain fed simply do not produce the same quality product.

There is no shortcut in any direction.

And it commands a premium. Each ham or shoulder costs upwards of two thousand dollars. Even if they could sell more, they can't make more than the land will bear.

On the finca we stayed at, the grandmother seemed eager to ask me something. Her daughter translated.

She had just one question. She wanted to know how I felt the first time I tasted meat from our own land.

I cried. I told her.

She nodded like she already knew.

Because that is what happens when you've done it right. When you've honored the process. When you haven't traded the quality of what you're building for the speed of getting there.

I've been thinking about that conversation ever since.

Because we live in a world that is very good at losing quality in search of scale. Whether it be fast fashion, processed food, content marketing, or even the croissant.

Chris Kimball was recently live on Substack with David Lebovitz talking about how the French croissant has gotten bigger over time, engineered larger to cater to American appetites. The inside stopped cooking all the way through. The ratio of crust to interior was lost. That first bite, the one that shatters, disappeared.

More croissant. Less croissant.

Recently, in the pressure to pump out posts, to show up, to stay visible, I lost my motivation. I didn't feel authentic. So I decided to stop.

The Dehesa taught me that.

The Dehesa doesn't ask whether it can produce more. It asks what the land can sustain.

So when you feel the pressure to produce for production's sake, pause.

Invoke a Dehesa Mindset and ask:

What am I being pressured to scale that deserves to be protected instead? What conditions made my best work possible, and am I still honoring them? Where have I traded quality for velocity, and what did it cost?

Not everything that can be scaled should be.

And from now on, you'll only hear from me when I believe I have something worth saying.

Until next time, 

With clarity and care, 

Courtney