The Hearty Ham

Playboy's food & drink editor

When Cicero said, "Things perfected by nature are better than those finished by art," he couldn't have been thinking of the smoked thigh of a pig.

A fresh ham is the product of nature, and has much to recommend it. But a smoked ham is a work of art. Certainly if Cicero had lived long enough to taste a genuine Smithfield ham taken from a peanut-fed razorback hog, carefully buried in salt, rubbed with freshly ground pepper, smoked over slow burning hickory wood and then aged for two or maybe three years, Rome's honey-mouthed orator may have thought twice (continued on next page) before making that rash utterance.

Ham fans fall into three classes. First of all, there are the backwoods boys who, from the age of two, have been raised on hog ham gravy and bear lard biscuits. At the opposite extreme are those fastidious gentry who will only eat ham if it's served with fresh calf's sweetbread and cepes sautéed in white wine sauce sous cloche. The third and largest class are the great majority of ham lovers who enjoy anything from deviled ham on a cracker to oversize ham steaks from the corn fields of Iowa.

All of these types appreciate the one salient fact about ham – its integrity. There is no such thing as a fake ham. It's one of the least disguised and least doubtful of meat flavors. Even in a croquette or souffle, the matchless flavor comes through unaltered. When you leave roast beef in your refrigerator for four or five days, the juices evaporate and the flavor becomes stale and weary. But you can keep a ham in the ice box for four weeks, and the tangy miracle of the smokehouse remains unchanged. When meats like corned beef or smoked tongue are canned, their original flavor and texture become almost unrecognizable. But a canned ham never loses its rich natural savor.

For all young gastronomers who aren't equipped to struggle with sole in aspic, joints of mutton and pressed wild duck, the plump ham on the carving board is the easiest way to satisfy the wolf in your stomach and the wench on the edge of your bed. A loaf of crisp sour rye bread, a jar of snappy mustard and some cold bottles of bubbling ale are all that are needed to start the revival meeting. Ham's final recommendation is its price. In recent years it's been the least piratical of all meats.

Until the late Twenties, any amateur chef who undertook to cook a whole ham in his bachelor apartment usually found out that a course in food engineering was necessary in order to do the job properly. Before the ham was ready to eat, the young man was usually forced to study such topics as the effects of certain orders of fungi, not to mention the use of the long block tackle and the inclined plane. When the sprightly epicure carried his fat ham home and discovered to his horror that there was mold on it, he was faced with three possible decisions. He could return the ham to the butcher, report his disenchantment to the department of health or else call his mother at once by long distance phone. The tyro didn't know that country ham lovers at that time regarded mold (if it wasn't too deep) with the same affection a wine connoisseur felt toward the sediment in a fine bottle of Burgundy. After entertaining a number of doubts he usually turned to an old recipe book where he found comforting data telling him to scrub the ham. Should he use the same brush they used on the kitchen floor or a brand new brush? There was the harsh dilemma of whether he should scrub it with a strong soap and water or just plain water. The cook books told him both methods were satisfactory.

In the course of disinterring the recipe he learned that he was to soakthe meat. This, too, presented certain niceties in the protocol of dealing with a ham. Should he soak it in warm water or cold water, in the washtub or the bathtub? From further consultation he deduced that he should soak the ham 24 hours for each year it was hung. This, of course, posed the gruelling problem of tracing the pig's genealogy back to its original owner in order to determine just how many months the end of the pig dangled from the rafters.

At last, the young epicure placed his ham in the pot to boil. It was usually a heavy long ham rather than a short plump ham because that was the way pigs were raised in those days. When the 18-pound ham was dropped into the four-quart pot, the phenomenon known as the displacement of water usually presented itself. The chef's pants, underwear, socks and thoes were immediately drenched with liquid. Then, hours later, after making all the necessary adjustments, in the serene calm of a job well done, the young culinarian was ready to remove the cooked ham from the pot. With his trusty kitchen fork, he jabbed the thickest part of the ham's cushion and lifted. Under the immense weight of the ham the fork slowly bent in two like an old hatpin. Instead of fishing up a ham, he acquired valuable knowledge concerning the tensile strength of different metals.

The ham was finally boiled. And that was only half the battle – merely the first step preparatory to baking the ham.

Nowadays, the old process of soaking, scrubbing and simmering are for the most part unnecessary. In the early Thirties, tenderized or quick-cooking hams were introduced. These were hams that required no soaking or simmering and that could be baked by merely placing them in the oven in the same manner as a turkey or a large rib roast. Later, completely cooked, ready-to-eat hams were introduced, and this type dominates the market today. In restaurants and hotels, with proper cooking facilities, hams are still scrubbed, soaked, simmered, baked and glazed. The finished ham may be slightly more moist and more subtle in flavor than the cooked ham you buy in the butcher shop. But the results are simply not worth the outlandish efforts required to bake a raw ham starting from scratch. Naturally there are differences in the qualities of the ready-to-eat hams. But once you've found a ham that satisfies your taste for cure, smokiness, texture and tenderness, you can be pretty sure that the quality of the same brand will remain consistent.

Over the United States you will find ham sold in an almost unlimited variety of forms and sizes. First of all, there are the aristocrats from the ham capital of the world, Smithfield, Virginia, population about 1100. Such brands as Todd's, Gwaltney's and Jordan's represent the very highest order in the bluebloods of the hog kingdom. Hams from this area are not to be confused with so-called "Virginia style" hams which many restaurants and delicatessen stores offer and which are merely baked hams from any part of the country, stuck with a few cloves and browned in the oven. The real Smithfield Virginia hams are taken from a lean aristocratic strain of hog, turned loose in the woods in the spring and fattened on peanuts in the fall. The shape is somewhat long and flat. The meat is deep brick red, the fat amber rather than white. The difference in flavor between a genuine Virginia ham and other hams is the difference in flavor between brandy and vin ordinaire. Native epicures in Virginia like their ham cut paper thin. For better carving, they prefer a cold ham over a hot.

Through the South you'll find the country hams, many of which are prepared in the same manner as the Smithfield hams. Some of the country hams are not smoked but merely cured in salt and then hung in a cold place for months to age. Country hams are consumed locally for the most part. Smithfield hams are available in fancy food shops all over the United States. For apartment bachelors, the whole Smithfield hams are sometimes hard to handle. Even a half of a Virginia ham may be unwieldly. Those who want the real thing in small quantities can now buy the five-ounce jar of Amber brand sliced and cooked Smithfield ham. The price of a genuine Smithfield ham is about twice that of another ham. But for the special blowout, it's the ham of distinction. Following the trend in the trade, the Smithfield hams are now offered raw or cooked and glazed with brown sugar, ready for the carving knife.

Of course the greatest number of hams sold in the United States are the moderately smoked hams typified by the brand names of the nationally known meat packers. They may be bought raw, partly cooked (tenderized) or completely cooked, ready to eat. People who do not care for the intense flavor and saltiness of the Smithfield ham prefer this milder cure. For such respectable fare as ham and cabbage, ham and beans, ham and potato salad and ham steaks, these hams are excellent.

The mildest of all hams are the canned Dutch, Danish and Irish specimens. Their bland flavor is just the opposite of their Virginia counterparts. They are sold in sizes ranging from one pound to 15 pounds. When buying the very small size tins, you sometimes take the chance of getting excess fat and gristle, since the small cut may come from the extreme shank or butt end. Here again the variety of brands you can buy is tremendous. If you're looking for a gastronomical novelty, you might try such sophisticated versions as the Dutch Gala brand ham in champagne sauce or the German Englert's sliced ham in Burgundy wine sauce.

Finally, there are such hard hams as the Italian Prosciutto or the imported Westphalian style. These hams are both (concluded on page 75) Hearty Ham (continued from page 50) slow cured with flavors that are pure enchantment. They must be cut like tissue paper. Both of them are served cold as appetizers. Prosciutto ham with ice cold melon is now one of the best known dinner preludes. Westphalian ham, cut into small transparent slices, rolled up and eaten as is or rolled up and filled with watercress salad will stir the most slothful appetite into motion.

Baking a Ham

Buy a quick-cooking or tenderized ham. Place it fat side up in an uncovered roasting pan on a wire rack. Insert a meat thermometer into the thickest part of the meat. Bake in a slow oven and let it cool sufficiently so that it can be handled. Then cut away the skin from the fat side. If you do not like too much fat, cut away any fat in excess of 1/2 inch. The depth of the fat can be told easily by inserting the tip of a sharp knife into the ham. You can feel the firm meat when the tip of the knife reaches it. The distance the knile was inserted shows the depth of the fat. Score the ham (i.e., cut the fat to a depth of 1/8 inch in long diagonal lines about one inch apart). Cut in opposite directions to make diamond shaped pieces. Make a paste of 1 cup brown sugar, 2 tablespoons flour, 2 tablespoons sherry and I teaspoon dry mustard. Spread the paste over the fat. Place the ham in a hot oven 425 degrees for 15 to 20 minutes or until the top is golden brown.

Playboy doesn't look sweet upon the old practice of jabbing cloves into every baked ham. In the first place, the flavor of the cloves doesn't spread beyond the small point where they're inserted. Besides, the flavor of whole cloves is extremely intense. If you happen to bite into one, they're as harsh as a toothache. If you like a clove flavor in ham fat, you can blend it more easily by mixing some powdered cloves with the sugar mixture before glazing the ham.

For kitchen hobbyists who like to ad lib with easy ham dishes, Playboy offers the following recipes:

Glazed Ham Steak with Bourbon

(Serves 2)

Half-inch center cut slice of ready-to-eat ham, weighing from 3/4 to 1 pound.

1/4 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup Bourbon whiskey

2 tablespoons breadcrumbs

2 tablespoons melted ham fat or shortening.

Paprika

Slash the edge of the ham steak in three or four places to prevent curling during cooking. Preheat the broiler flame at 400 degrees.

Heat the fat or shortening in a large frying pan until the fat shows the first wisp of smoke. Lower the ham slice carefully into the pan. Cook over a moderate flame, turning the ham once, until the ham is medium brown on both sides.

Transfer the ham slice to a shallow baking pan. A large metal pie pan will do. Mix the sugar, whiskey and breadcrumbs to a smooth paste. Spread the paste over the top of the ham. Sprinkle lightly with paprika. Place the ham under the broiler flame about four inches below source of heat. Do not broil too closely to the fire or the whiskey may flame. Broil only until the glaze is medium brown. Serve at once.

Fried Smithfield Ham, Cream Gravy

(Serves 2)

5-ounce jar of sliced, cooked Smithfield ham (or the same amount of meat cut thin from a freshly cooked Smithfield ham).

1/3 cup milk

2/3 cup cold water

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons sherry wine

1 cup light cream

2 teaspoons cornstarch

2 tablespoons cold water

Combine the milk and the 2/3 cup cold water in a deep dish. Place the ham in the milk mixture for one hour. Put the ham together with the milk mixture in a saucepan. Slowly heat until the liquid boils. Throw off the liquid from the ham. Put the butter in the pan with the ham. Let the ham sauté over a slow flame for three minutes. Add the sherry wine and light cream. Cook over a slow flame until the liquid just begins to bubble around the edge of the saucepan. Mix the cornstarch with the 2 tablespoons cold water to form a smooth paste. When the cream begins to boil, add the cornstarch mixture, stirring well. Cook until thick. Remove from the flame. Season to taste. Serve over hot crisp toast.

Ham Hash, Country Style

(Serves 4)

Any leftover ham, canned ham or sliced boiled ham may be used. Be sure the ham and seasoning vegetables are minced or chopped fine. Mashed potatoes should be prepared without any milk or liquid.

2 cups minced cooked ham

1/4 cup minced onion

1/4 cup minced green pepper

1/4 cup minced celery

1 cup mashed potatoes

1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

Salt, pepper

Vegetable fat

Melt 3 tablespoons fat in a saucepan. Add the onion, green pepper and celery. Sauté the vegetables until they are tender but not brown.

Mix together the ham, onion, green pepper, celery, potatoes and Worcestershire sauce. Add salt and pepper to taste. Place the mixture in the refrigerator to chill thoroughly.

Shape the ham hash into eight round cakes about 1/2-inch thick. Brown on both sides on a lightly greased griddle or heavy frying pan. Serve with chili sauce or catsup. Then sit down at the table right away, before your guests demolish the whole batch.