America has grown up on meat. When settlers first began to push West, there was nothing but wide open spaces and grass, grass that was worthless to humans except as fodder for cattle that could quickly and effectively convert it into meat and milk. Even those amber waves of grain we all sing about have served mainly to feed livestock in our meat-centric culture.

Although fresh meat always has been king here, we have plenty of cured meats, as well, stemming from traditional recipes brought here by waves of English, German, Italian, Chinese and other immigrants. This is, after all, a country where it is generally believed that everything is enhanced by the inclusion of bacon, perhaps our most common and beloved style of cured meat. Nevertheless, save for assorted ethnic communities around the country, the subtler techniques of making specialty European-style cured meats have eluded us for generations — ironic because these products have helped form the backbone of the gourmet industry in the United States.

In recent years, beginning in restaurant kitchens and continuing through an influx of erstwhile charcutières and salumieri, more and more European-style cured meats have been produced domestically, according to traditional methods — albeit in modernized, HAACP-approved facilities. Points as far flung as New York, New Jersey, Iowa, New Orleans, Utah, and the San Francisco Bay Area have seen the emergence of artisans who are making high-quality charcuterie and salumi, and their products are making a big impression in deli cases from coast to coast.

"Part of the success has been because many of the traditional artisan meats from Europe are not allowed to be imported into the United States," says author Liz Thorpe, who's also vice president of Murray's Cheese in New York City. "What we do get from Europe are often well-known styles made by big producers, many of which are inferior to what we are producing here. We now carry only a handful of imported producers."

For years, chefs have been experimenting with curing meats for their own restaurants. They include Christopher Lee, formerly of Chez Panisse; Stephen Stryjewski of Cochon in New Orleans; and Paul Bertolli, author and former chef of Oliveto in Oakland, Calif., who now makes superb Italian-inspired salumi at Fra'Mani in Berkeley. For some, it has been an almost underground movement, surreptitiously curing meats in their restaurant kitchens for their guests.

"Where the cheese people have gone in the past few years, the cured meat people are following," says Jim Yonkus, owner of Battery Place Market in Lower Manhattan. "We've always had great salami makers — Molanari, Volpe, Columbus Foods, and now Fra'Mani and Creminelli — and now chefs are taking it even further. Chefs, by doing their own cured meats, have had a huge impact, one that filters down to the consumer."

Other producers, like Creminelli and La Quercia, began with wholesale operations — the former is a third-generation salumieri that set up shop in Utah, and the latter did so on a pig farm in Iowa, both presenting an interesting case in favor of the elusive concept of terroir.

"Cristiano [Creminelli] chose Salt Lake City because the micro-climate was closest to where he came from in the Piemonte," Thorpe says. "Cool winds, high humidity and plenty of salt all make for a unique terroir. Also, feed and breed make a huge difference, whether the pigs are finished on acorn, apple or barley. The role of fat in the curing process is also critically important, and with the Heritage breeds, you're starting with a completely new raw material. In many cases, we see better products than we are getting from Europe. The commitment to a hand-made, artisan process is growing here, while, sadly, it is shrinking in Europe."

Photo courtesy of Bellentani

In November 2008, Thorpe and the crew at Murray's Cheese opened Murray's Real Salami in the Grand Central Terminal Market, in which they just sold cooked and cured meats. Nearby was the Murray's Cheese stall. Recently, they were able to join the two shops, where they sell local, artisan-made products such as Salumeria Biellese — a small company that began in New York City, but has since moved to more spacious quarters across the river in New Jersey.

"Their bresaola is almost violet — a purpley red, with aromatics like clover," Thorpe says. "It's very floral and delicious, and nothing like what we get from Italy."

Across the East River in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn, Ted Matern, co-owner of Blue Apron Foods, also is having success with domestic charcuterie in the form of La Quercia's coppa, a cured meat taken from the neck or shoulder of the pig, as well as a variety of artisan-made charcuterie made for him by a former French chef who moved his operation from a restaurant to a facility in New Jersey.

"We also have a lot of artisan butchers," Matern says. "They have the animals raised for them to their specifications. The animals are brought down to the city where they butcher the entire animal, rather than simply buying smaller cuts as many butchers today do."

Photo courtesy of Bellentani

Clearly, there is a trend here as artisans around the country ply their craft in smokehouses and curing rooms, just as cheesemakers, bakers, brewers and others have done before them. Add to that Italian producers such as Bellantani, who recently have set up shop on this side of the Atlantic to produce their iconic salumi here.

"As each region supports their regional craftspeople, they can grow and afford to do what they do," says Sheana Davis, owner of The Epicurean Connection in Sonoma, Calif., and a huge supporter of artisan-made food. "We're seeing it all around us here in Sonoma County. We're getting locally made smoked fish and oysters, smoked duck breast and hand-carved smoked turkey breast. It's moving from an underground thing to mainstream. I predict the next trend will be house-made reuben sandwiches, and I would like to see more people making hams."

We'll second that thought. No doubt Davis, who will lead a "Tasting Cured Meats & Charcuterie — Bring Home the Bacon" seminar on Jan. 16 at the Winter Fancy Food Show, is right, as chefs and artisans continue to explore the European tradition of curing meats. What's next, the formation of the American Charcuterie Association? Stranger things have happened.

"Where the cheese people have gone in the past few years, the meat people are following." —Jim Yonkus, owner, Battery Place Market

"As each region supports their regional craftspeople, they can grow and afford to do what they do." —Sheana Davis, Owner, The Epicurean Connection

Photo courtesy of Bellentani What's in a Name? The nomenclature of European cured meats can be confusing. Below is a brief glossary of the terms from France and Italy that are used here most often. Charcuterie: A multiuse term that refers both to cured meat products (usually pork) and the neighborhood shops in which they are sold (which we call delicatessens). According to "The Deluxe Food Lover's Companion," the word comes from the French term cuiseur de chair, or "cooker of meat." A charcutière is one who makes these products. Coming from the French "Brigade system" used in classic French restaurants, the charcutière is the person responsible for the various pâtés, rillettes, galantines and so forth. Salumi: This refers to the general category of Italian cured meats, including coppa, prosciutto, pancetta, speck and so on. The singular form of the word is salume. It is derived from sale, or "salt" — a vital ingredient in making all of these types of cured meats. A salumería is a place that sells salumi, and a salumieri is one who makes them. Salumi is divided into two categories: stagionati are cured, aged whole cuts of meat, such as pancetta or prosciutto; insaccati are chopped and/or ground meats and spices in casings, such as salami (singular form is salame), mortadella and other types of sausages. These salumi descriptions are taken from "Salumi" by John Piccetti, chairman of Columbus Foods, François Vecchio and Joyce Goldstein.