"CountryHam" news and stories

Just as the nation's gourmands have reached consensus on the superiority of country ham (the traditionally dry-cured hind hog quarter considered by some to be the culinary equal of Italy's prosciutto), one leading exemplar of Southern dining has practically shunted the dish off its menu.

Country ham is still available at Dillard House, the venerable North Georgia boardinghouse that's been overfeeding diners since 1915, but it's no longer among the dozens of all-you-can-eat plates automatically placed on every table. In the culinary equivalent of appointing a new porcine first chair, the restaurant has put sugar-cured "city" ham on its default dish list.

"We still have the country ham in the back for the old-timers who ask for it," a server told us when we visited last month. "But most people today seem to like the sugar-cured."

Ever whip up a dish that's so madly yummy you wanna feed it to everyone you've ever met? This is one of those.

Yup, Easter's already hopped on by, but who says that's the only ham-appropriate occasion? We'd unexpectedly received a smoked, bone-in ten-pounder as lagniappe for being loyal grocery store shoppers, and while we were old hands at prepping its hard, salty country cousin, we'd never actually baked and glazed a city ham. We've long been inspired by Aretha Franklin's ginger ale doused Queen of Soul Ham and have heard tell of a Coca-Cola ham or two, though have never had the pleasure of sampling one.

A tad loath to leave the house and brave the holiday supermarket fray, we took stock of what was on hand. Diet drinks weren't gonna cut the mustard, husband would flip if we drained his precious Pepsi stash, tonic was a tad depressing, then lo and behold -- Cheerwine! We'd hauled back cases of the distinctive cherry soda when last we hit the Tarheel State, and had been holding out for a special occasion to dip into the stash.

Sure, it wasn't the cane sugar based Retro Cheerwine (which we can't find to save our lives!), but it kept the ham miraculously moist through the initial bake and cooked down into a luscious, fruity glaze, which balanced quite well with the ham's salt, a kiss of bourbon, a quick blaze of mustard and the deep, dark tang of pomegranate molasses.

Can't find Cheerwine in your neck of the woods? Swap in a full-sugar dark cherry soda like Stewart's Black Cherry Wishniak, Boylan's Black Cherry or Jones' Cherry. Cheers!

Get the Cheerwine Ham recipe after the jump.

It would seem that providence has brought me a country ham. Upon reading a Facebook posting of mine last night, crowing about (okay, showing off), my haul of whole hog BBQ from Ed Mitchell's The Pit in Raleigh, a dear pal inquired as to the possibility of my acquiring a ham for him while I was still in North Carolina. My husband Douglas and I were planning hitting the road at an unholy hour this morning, so I gave a Chapel Hill Harris Teeter the ol' Tarheel try 'round about midnight. Plenty of Harris' She Crab soup, Duke's mayo, Cheerwine and Peanut Butter Moon Pies to be had, but not so much with the artisanal pig products. Well shoot! I'd tried.

When I was growing up in Virginia, my babysitter often referred to my family as "the carpetbaggers." This wasn't all that surprising; my parents were from New England, and the folkways of rural Virginia were somewhat bizarre to them. Even so, they quickly adapted and even learned to embrace the culture of the area. Because of their zealous adoption of all things Virginia, many of our major holidays were celebrated with a huge, salty Virginia ham.

When I undertook the reverse migration from Virginia to New York, I worried that I would not be able to get hold of real Smithfield hams. Luckily, however, one of my local butchers carries them; it seems that they are a standard Italian dish on the feast day of Saint Nicholas. As the butcher rang up my sixteen pound chunk of pork, he and I had an interesting conversation about the art of cooking Virginia ham. Interestingly, many of his customers are actually scared of Smithfield ham.

In truth, this isn't really all that surprising. After all, Smithfield hams are exceedingly salty, very ugly, and take a long time to prepare. However, they are also amazingly delicious, and constitute one of the most truly American of dishes. Luckily, they are also fairly simple to cook, freeze beautifully, and pretty much all of the leftovers are delicious.