Every biltong eater has a side. Wet or dry. It’s the first question any decent biltong counter will ask you, and your answer says more about you than your star sign.

The difference is nothing more than time — how long the meat hangs before it’s pulled down. But that one variable changes everything: texture, flavour intensity, even how long it keeps.

Wet biltong (3–4 days)

Pulled early, wet biltong is deep red in the centre, tender, almost steak-like. The flavour is beefy and mild because less moisture has left the meat — everything is more diluted, softer, easier.

It’s the crowd-pleaser. If someone’s never had biltong before, hand them wet. It’s also the one that disappears fastest and keeps shortest — eat it within days, and store it properly in the meantime.

Dry biltong (6–8 days)

Hang it longer and the slice turns firm, dark, and concentrated. All the flavour of the cure — the vinegar tang, the coriander, the pepper — intensifies as the water leaves. A slice of proper dry biltong is chewy, savoury, and lasts about four times as long in your pack as it does in your mouth.

Dry is the connoisseur’s cut and the traveller’s cut. It survives a jersey pocket on a four-hour ride in a way wet biltong simply doesn’t.

Medium (the diplomatic option)

Most of what we make lands here: firm at the edge, still a blush of red in the middle. You get the flavour concentration of a proper dry with a bit of the tenderness of wet. If you don’t know your preference yet, start medium and drift from there.

The fat question, briefly

Texture isn’t just drying time — it’s fat. A well-marbled cut stays luxurious even when dried hard, because fat doesn’t evaporate. Lean cuts dried long can turn into noble shoe leather. This is why the cut matters as much as the clock.

Which one are we?

Kured leans medium-to-dry. Partly taste, partly purpose — biltong that’s built to be eaten mid-ride or halfway up a hill needs to travel well, and dry travels best.

But we’re not zealots. Wet biltong on a Sunday afternoon, straight off the slicer, is one of life’s great arguments for not having plans.