By SIMON BARKHUYSEN
Oh, South Africans, gather ‘round the braai and let’s have a lekker chat about our one true love—biltong. It’s not just a snack; it’s a way of life, a chewy little strip of heritage that’s been air-drying its way into our hearts since the Voortrekkers decided horsing around with meat preservation was a grand idea. We’re talking prime cuts of beef (or ostrich, kudu, or whatever beast wandered too close to the spice rack), lovingly marinated in vinegar, salt, and a symphony of coriander and pepper, then hung up like laundry on a windy Highveld day. The result? A tender, tangy, meaty masterpiece that makes your tastebuds do a happy little kwela dance. It’s the ultimate companion for a rugby match, a road trip, or just staring into the abyss of load shedding with a grim smile—usually weighing in at 500 grams or more for a proper stash.
Now, imagine our collective excitement when we heard whispers of a distant cousin across the Atlantic—something the Yanks call “jerky.” Oh, the anticipation! Could it be that the land of stars, stripes, and supersized everything had stumbled upon a biltong doppelgänger? Spoiler alert: don’t get your hopes up, boet. Jerky is to biltong what a soggy slap chip is to a golden vetkoek—close in theory, but a tragedy in execution. This stuff is thin, dry, and smoked to within an inch of its life, often a measly 56 grams (2 ounces) per pack, tasting more like a salty plank of wood than anything resembling our beloved delicacy. Chewing it feels less like a joyous snack attack and more like you’re gnawing through a Michelin radial to patch a puncture on the N1. It’s bland, it’s boring, and it’s about as fun as a tax audit. Sorry, America, but your jerky just doesn’t cut the mustard—or the biltong, for that matter.
But wait! Before you toss your hands up in despair and clutch your last 250-gram packet of Ouma’s finest closer to your chest, there’s a plot twist sizzling on the horizon. Biltong—and its saucy sausage sidekick, droëwors—are staging a quiet invasion of the USA, and it’s got the health nuts and fitness buffs over there doing burpees of joy. Turns out, the land of kale smoothies and protein shakes has woken up to the fact that our air-dried treasures are a high-protein, low-carb dream come true. No sugar, no nonsense—just pure, meaty goodness that fits right into their keto-paleo-whatever-the-latest-fad-is lifestyles. And unlike jerky, biltong’s got character—flavour profiles that sing with spice and vinegar, not just a one-note smoky yawn.
Biltong Boom: The USA’s New Obsession
Let’s talk numbers, because the Yanks don’t mess around when it comes to scaling things up. Biltong production in the USA is on the rise faster than you can say “braaivleis.” Companies like Stryve (who snapped up Biltong USA and Braaitime a few years back) are pumping out the good stuff from shiny new facilities in places like Oklahoma and North Carolina. Stormberg Foods in Goldsboro is another big player, churning out authentic biltong with USDA-approved swagger, using American beef kissed with South African spices—think 100-gram packs flying off the line. And then there’s Ayoba-Yo, Brooklyn Biltong, and a slew of smaller outfits popping up like biltong stalls at a kerkbazaar.
Market growth? Sharp as a butcher’s blade. Back in 2019, Stryve reported a 500% spike in biltong sales, and that was just the beginning. The meat snack category in the US has been flexing its muscles with a compound annual growth rate of over 7% in recent years, and biltong’s carving out a juicy slice of that pie. Volumes are tricky to pin down precisely—unlike South Africa, where we’d guestimate thousands of tons annually (Namibia’s Closwa alone does 1,660 tons a year)—but in the US, it’s safe to say hundreds of tons are flying off shelves, with potential for thousands more as awareness spreads. Prices? You’re looking at $10-$15 (ZAR 180-ZAR 270) for a 56-gram (2-ounce) pack of the premium stuff, with bulk options (say, 454 grams or 1 pound) hitting $40-$60 (ZAR 720-ZAR 1,080) depending on the cut and flavour. Droëwors isn’t far behind, often clocking in at $12-$18 (ZAR 216-ZAR 324) for a 113-gram (4-ounce) bag of those addictive little sticks. Compare that to jerky’s $5-$8 (ZAR 90-ZAR 144) for a similar 56-gram size, and you see why biltong’s the posh kid on the block—but worth every cent to those in the know.
Should a Biltong Expert from South Africa Consider Manufacturing Biltong for Commercial Sales in the USA?
So, you’re a biltong maestro from South Africa, with years of perfecting the art under your belt, and you’re eyeing the USA as your next big move. Should you do it? Ja, boet, absolutely—but let’s break down what you’re in for, cost-wise, and where to start.
What Can You Expect the Costs to Be?
Manufacturing biltong commercially in the USA isn’t like rigging up a drying box in your garage back in Pretoria. You’re playing in a regulated, high-volume game now, and costs can stack up quick. Here’s a rough breakdown:
Total startup for a small operation? You’re looking at $15,000-$40,000 (ZAR 270,000-ZAR 720,000) to get rolling, with monthly costs of $3,000-$10,000 (ZAR 54,000-ZAR 180,000) depending on scale. Profit margins are tasty, though—sell 454 grams at $40 (ZAR 720), and you’re clearing $15-$25 (ZAR 270-ZAR 450) per unit after costs.
Where to Start?
It’s a grind, but with your expertise, the US market’s ripe for the picking. You could be the oke who turns biltong into their next big obsession.
A Business Opportunity for Saffas in the States
Now, here’s the cheeky bit for all you South African expats pining for a taste of home while dodging tornadoes or shovelling snow in the USA. Back in Mzansi, biltong “winkeltjies” (those quaint little shops) are a dime a dozen, often struggling to stand out in a saturated market where every oke with a drying cabinet thinks he’s the next biltong baron, selling 1-kilogram bags for local diehards. But over in the States? It’s a different beast entirely—a vast, untapped playground where the demand is surging and the competition’s still playing catch-up. This isn’t just a chance to flog some nostalgia to fellow Saffas missing their Spur burger nights; it’s a golden ticket to hook a whole new crowd of protein-hungry Americans who’ve never even heard of droëwors, let alone tasted its coriander-kissed glory in a 200-gram pack.
Picture it: you, a savvy South African immigrant, setting up shop with a proper biltong operation. You’ve got the recipes (passed down from your ouma, naturally), the know-how (perfected over years of sneaking 50-gram strips from the drying rack), and a market that’s practically begging for something tastier than jerky. Start small—sell 100-gram packs at farmers’ markets, gyms, or online via Etsy or your own site. Scale up with a USDA-approved facility, and suddenly you’re shipping kilos of the stuff—think 10-kilogram batches—to CrossFit gyms and Whole Foods wannabes coast to coast. The volumes in the US could dwarf anything you’d shift in a dusty dorpie back home, and the profit margins? With the right sourcing and a bit of hustle, they’re as plump as a well-fed boerewors roll.
So, pack your spices, dust off your Afrikaans charm, and take this underrated gem to the land of opportunity. Biltong’s not just a snack—it’s a cultural export waiting to conquer tastebuds and wallets alike. The USA’s ready for a savoury shake-up, and you, my fellow South African, might just be the one to give it to them—one chewy, delicious 100-gram strip at a time.
