I’m Tristan Day, and Blue House Iberico is the culmination of a curiosity I’ve carried since childhood. I remember tasting my mother’s cooking as a boy and trying to reverse-engineer it—guessing at ingredients, wondering why certain combinations worked and others didn’t. My father deepened that curiosity into something more expansive: an appreciation for gastronomy as a whole, for the way a meal becomes inseparable from the place it’s eaten, the culture surrounding it, and the hands that made it possible.

That early fascination followed me into adulthood, even when I wasn’t looking for it. I studied International Business Management in the Netherlands, but found myself continually drawn back into food and drink—working at a craft beer shop, brewing alongside Van de Streek Bier in Utrecht, and training in both Dutch and French bakeries. Looking back, the thread connecting all of it was simple: I gravitated toward people and products defined by patience and craftsmanship.

Iberico pork was part of that world long before I thought to build a business around it. Having grown up eating it throughout Western Europe, it never struck me as exotic—it was simply good food, the kind woven into everyday culinary life.

When I moved to Texas, I noticed something that seemed almost obvious in hindsight: the state was covered in oak, pecan, and walnut trees—the very landscape Iberico pigs are meant to forage. And yet the breed was nowhere to be found. The more I researched, the more I realized why. African swine fever had devastated European herds, and the resulting export restrictions had made new importation of Iberico genetics nearly impossible. I understood that if I wanted to see this breed established in Texas, waiting for someone else to do it wasn’t an option.

So I did it myself.

For me, exceptional pork is never simply a matter of technique at the butcher’s table—it begins far earlier, with the life the animal was given. Our pigs are raised with room to roam, root, and forage as they would naturally. We move them rotationally across the land and let them supplement their diet with the acorns, pecans, and walnuts that grow here. This isn’t a marketing gesture; it reflects a conviction I hold personally, since these are animals my own family will eventually eat. I want to know, without question, that they were given the opportunity to thrive.

None of this happens quickly. Iberico pigs mature far more slowly than conventional breeds, and that slowness is precisely the point—it allows genetics, environment, and diet the time they need to develop the qualities that make this pork worth the wait. Blue House Iberico was never conceived as an exercise in efficiency or scale. It was conceived as an attempt to raise the kind of pork I actually want to eat, held to a standard I apply without exception: if it isn’t good enough for my own table, it isn’t good enough for yours.

Welcome to Blue House Iberico.