In an attempt to raise money to restore the antique organ in his cathedral, a priest from Saint-Flour, a small town in the heart of France, came up with an innovative solution. He converted one of the bell towers into a curing shop where farmers could hang pork to dry.
Nearly two years ago, after that Blessed by the local bishopPork legs swayed peacefully in the dry air of the cathedral’s north tower, bringing in much-needed money and delighting meat lovers. Then an inspector from the organization that supervises French architectural heritage intervened.
After noticing a greasy stain on the floor of the bell tower, in addition to other violations, the inspector ordered the pork removed. They pose a fire risk, according to cathedral officials, he said in a report issued in December 2023. When the cathedral refused to remove the pork, the dispute escalated until it reached the country’s Minister of Culture, Rachida Dati.
The battle over bacon has been widely derided as an example of how overzealous officials can suppress innovative local initiatives. It also speaks to a larger issue that ancient churches across France have been grappling with as they face costly reparations: Who will pay to preserve the country’s vast religious heritage?
After the French Revolution, the state seized church property, eventually assuming responsibility for overseeing most of it. But the central government and local municipalities struggled to fund the maintenance of the country’s cathedrals and churches.
The restoration of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, which was destroyed by a devastating fire in 2019, was funded by about $900 million in donations. But religious buildings in the rest of the country have been largely left to their own devices.
Across France, an estimated 15,000 religious buildings out of 45,000 are classified as historical monuments, according to the Ministry of Culture. The ministry said that more than 2,300 of them are in poor condition, and 363 are threatened with extinction.
“The situation is worrying,” said Hadrian Lacoste, vice president of the Religious Heritage Observatory, an independent non-profit group. “There is a decline in religious practice, and there is a decline in demographics in rural areas,” he added.
Although Decrease in church attendanceCities like Saint-Flour, with a population of about 6,400, see their cathedrals and churches as defining elements of their identity and feel a strong need to preserve them.
“We realized that each of our churches is like a small Notre Dame, and that a village without a church is like Paris without Notre Dame,” said Matthew Lore, a French historian specializing in religious architecture.
In France – as was the case elsewhere in Europe – deteriorating churches were often converted into gymnasiums, restaurants, hotels or residences.
In Saint-Flour, the Renaissance church adjacent to the cathedral was cleared and is now a market and cultural venue.
Preserving the cathedral itself was seen as an essential, if expensive, effort for the city. St.-Flour is located in the heart of Cantal, a region of France famous for its green mountain landscape and local cheese. From a distance, the cathedral, perched atop a rocky outcrop, looms over the city like a fortress.
“You know the saying, all roads lead to Rome?” said Patrice Bullard, the meat producer responsible for climbing the tower’s 145 steps to hang the pork there. “Well, here in Saint-Fleur, all roads lead to the cathedral.”
The idea of the treatment workshop in the bell tower was the brainchild of Gil Boyer, who was at the time dean of the cathedral, after the money that the authorities were supposed to provide to repair the church’s 19th-century choir organ did not materialize.
Mr Boyer, a foodie who ran a restaurant in Paris, had already set up beehives on an unused balcony in the cathedral to produce honey for sale. The bell tower was also unused space. Why don’t we use it to hang pork, which is a specialty of the region, he wondered?
“It all started as a joke, but it wasn’t that stupid in the end,” he said.
Altitude, a local meat industry cooperative made up of about 40 pig farmers, liked the idea, partly because of the marketing potential, but also because of what they thought were the special quality of air and conditions in the tower for curing pork.
“It creates a link between business and heritage, between the product and its region,” said Thierry Bousso, the company’s communications director.
The project was approved by state and church authorities, and the first batch of hams went on sale at markets, in the church and online in the spring of 2022, for about $150 each, about $50 more than the average local artisan ham. will bring. The profits, once Altitude had recovered its costs, were turned over to the cathedral.
In all, about 300 hams were sold, and more than $12,000 was spent to finally restore the organ, Bosso said.
The project was named Florus Solatium, in honor of the city’s supposed founder, a 5th-century saint named Florus whose relics are preserved in the cathedral. According to legendThe saint miraculously escaped the bandits by reaching the top of the cliff, where he was greeted by residents with traditional local pork. “For Solatium!” It was said that he shouted. “What a consolation!”
Most of the pork curing takes place at Altitude’s warehouses in a nearby town. But Mr Boyer, the former rector, is convinced that the three months they spend attached to the tower’s rafters, exposed to the wind and the vibrations of the bell, are what gives the meat its special quality.
“Most pork is dried in places where the humidity scale is always the same, and the ventilation is always the same,” says Aurélien Gransani, the restaurant’s chef. Serge Vieira Restauranta nearby restaurant has a Michelin star, in reference to the humidity in the air. He added that in the Bell Tower, “there are fluctuations, and that is what makes the product special.”
The thick, pink meat is as good as the best prosciutto from Italy or jamón from Spain, he said. Mr. Gransani’s restaurant serves rose-shaped steaks alongside other entrees — and a little storytelling about where they come from.
Given the success of the bacon, Jean-Paul Rolland, who took over as rector from Mr. Boyer in 2022, said he decided to stop when the heritage architect declared the project dangerous.
He said: “The building is intended for practicing religious rituals, so it is not the administration’s prerogative to tell us what we can and cannot do inside.”
He said the grease stain probably appeared on the old parquet floor long before pork was raised.
“It’s like a landlord telling a tenant they’re not allowed to change the location of a painting in the living room,” Mr. Rowland added.
He made some small changes, such as putting carpets on the floors of the towers and barring entry to visitors. But he said the pork will continue to hang around.
In October, Dati, the culture minister, announced a decision that the pork would remain, provided that a “detailed study” had examined the “administrative, material and organizational conditions” for the pork to be cooked safely, her office said in October. Email. This process is still ongoing.
Whatever the final decision, pork has become a cause célèbre in a country that values the food offerings of small producers as much as the country’s religious heritage. St.-Flour made national headlines, and pork sales were brisk. Altitude says the Elysee Palace in Paris has a standing order for pork every three months, and is serving slices of it at a buffet in June. (It is not clear whether President Emmanuel Macron has tried some of these experiments, and the Elysee did not respond to requests for comment.)
However, not everyone in Saint-Flour is happy with the idea of turning the church into something resembling a market.
“There were bees, now there’s pork. What’s next, Cheese?” asked Roger Merle, 68, owner of a clothing store in town.
