Struggling to raise funds for the restoration of his cathedral’s antique organ, a priest from Saint-Flour, a small town in the heart of France, found a creative solution. He transformed one of the bell towers into a salting workshop where farmers could dry their hams.
For almost two years, after being blessed by a local bishoppork legs swayed peacefully in the dry air of the cathedral’s north tower, bringing in much-needed funds and delighting charcuterie lovers. It was then that an inspector from the organization responsible for French architectural heritage intervened.
After noticing a grease stain on the floor of the bell tower, as well as other infractions, the inspector ordered the hams to be dismantled. They posed a fire risk, he said in a December 2023 report, according to cathedral officials. When the cathedral refused to remove the hams, the dispute escalated to the country’s Minister of Culture, Rachida Dati.
The battle for Saint-Flour hams has been widely ridiculed as an example of how overzealous officials can destroy innovative local initiatives. It also addresses a larger problem that aging churches across France are grappling with, facing costly repairs: who will pay to maintain the country’s vast religious heritage?
After the French Revolution, church properties were seized by the state, which eventually took responsibility for overseeing most of them. But the central government and local municipalities have struggled to fund the upkeep of the country’s cathedrals and churches.
The restoration of Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris, ravaged by a devastating fire in 2019, was financed by around $900 million in donations. But in the rest of the country, religious buildings have largely been left to their own devices.
Across France, it is estimated that 15,000 religious buildings out of 45,000 are classified as historic monuments, according to the Ministry of Culture. More than 2,300 of them are in poor condition and 363 are considered endangered, the ministry said.
“The situation is alarming,” said Hadrien Lacoste, vice-president of the Religious Heritage Observatory, an independent non-profit organization. “There is a decline in religious practice,” he added, “and there is a decline in demographics in rural areas.”
Despite a decline in church attendanceTowns like Saint-Flour, which has around 6,400 inhabitants, consider their cathedrals and churches to be defining elements of their identity and feel a strong need to maintain them.
“We realized that each of our churches is a little Notre-Dame, that the village without the church is like Paris without Notre-Dame,” said Mathieu Lours, a French historian specializing in religious architecture.
In France, as elsewhere in Europe, dilapidated churches are often transformed into sports halls, restaurants, hotels or accommodation.
In Saint-Flour, a Renaissance church adjoining the cathedral was deconsecrated and today houses a market and a cultural venue.
The maintenance of the cathedral itself was considered an essential, albeit costly, municipal effort. Saint-Flour is in the heart of Cantal, a region of France known for its rolling green landscapes and local cheese. From a distance, the cathedral, at the top of a rocky spur, dominates the city like a fortress.
“You know the saying: all roads lead to Rome? » declared Patrice Boulard, the meat producer responsible for climbing the 145 steps of the tower to hang the hams. “Well, here in Saint-Flour, all roads lead to the cathedral.”
The idea of a cure workshop in the bell tower arose from the original idea of Gilles Boyer, then rector of the cathedral, after funds supposedly provided by the authorities to repair the church choir organ of the 19th century never materialized.
A lover of gastronomy and former manager of a restaurant in Paris, Mr. Boyer had already installed beehives on an unused terrace of the cathedral to produce honey for sale. The bell tower was also an unused space. Why not use it to hang hams, a specialty of the region, he wondered?
“It all started as a joke,” he said, “but it wasn’t so stupid after all.”
Altitude, a local charcuterie cooperative made up of around 40 pig farmers, loved the idea, partly for the business potential, but also for what it saw as the special air quality and conditions. in the ham curing tower.
“This creates a link between business and heritage, between a product and its terroir,” explains Thierry Bousseau, the company’s communications manager.
The project was approved by state and Church authorities, and the first batch of hams went on sale in markets, in the church and online in spring 2022, for about $150 each, which is about $50 more than the average local artisan ham would fetch. The profits, once Altitude recovered its costs, were donated to the cathedral.
In total, about 300 hams were sold and more than $12,000 was spent to finally restore the organ, Bousseau said.
The project was called “Florus Solatium,” a tribute to the city’s presumed founder, a 5th-century saint called Florus whose relics are housed in the cathedral. According to the legendthe saint miraculously escaped the bandits by reaching the top of the cliff, where the locals welcomed him with a traditional local ham. “Quid solatium!” » he would have exclaimed. “What consolation! »
Most of the ham curing process takes place in the Altitude warehouses in a nearby town. But Mr Boyer, the former rector, is convinced that it is the three months they spend hanging on the wooden beams of the tower, exposed to the wind and the vibrations of the bell, which give the meat its special quality.
“Most hams are dried in places where the humidity is always the same, the ventilation is always the same,” explains Aurélien Gransagne, the restaurant’s chef. Restaurant Serge Vieiraa nearby Michelin-starred restaurant, referring to the humidity in the air. In the bell tower, he adds, “there are fluctuations, and that’s what makes a product special.”
The thick, pink flesh is as good as the best prosciutto from Italy or ham from Spain, he said. Mr Gransagne’s restaurant offers diners rose-shaped slices of meat alongside other starters – and a bit of narration about its provenance.
Faced with the success of the tower hams, Jean-Paul Rolland, who succeeded Mr. Boyer as rector in 2022, declared that he had decided to put his foot down when the heritage architect declared the project dangerous.
“The building is dedicated to religious practice,” he declared, “so it is not up to the administration to tell us what we can or cannot do inside.”
The grease stain probably appeared on the centuries-old flooring long before the hams were raised, he said.
“It’s as if an owner told a tenant that he does not have the right to change the location of a painting in the living room,” added Mr. Rolland.
He made some small changes, like placing mats on the floors of the towers and barring visitors from entering. But the hams will continue to hang, he said.
In October, Ms. Dati, the Minister of Culture, announced a decision: the hams will remain, provided that a “detailed study” has examined the “administrative, material and organizational conditions” for the hams to be matured in complete safety. , his office said in an email. This process continues.
Whatever the final decision, hams have become a cause celebre in a country that values the gastronomic offerings of small producers as much as its religious heritage. St.-Flour made national headlines and ham sales were brisk. The Élysée in Paris regularly orders ham every three months and serves slices at a buffet in June, Altitude says. (It is unclear whether President Emmanuel Macron has tried one, and the Elysée did not respond to requests for comment.)
However, not everyone in Saint-Flour is happy with the idea of transforming the church into a kind of market.
“There were bees, now there are hams. What’s next, cheese? » asked Roger Merle, 68, owner of a clothing store in the town.
