Stuffed Ham, Revisited

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A lot has changed since the New York Times ran an article on Southern Maryland Stuffed Ham in 1982. That article described stuffed ham as a curious, acquired taste. “Occasionally one hears of a newcomer – a visitor, even – whose sensitive palate quivers with delight at the first piquant bite,” wrote the article’s author, Mary Z. Gray. “For those who can take it, the dish is especially savored because it is available only in southern Maryland.”

Nowadays, we live in an age of commodification and a collectors’ mentality about foods to try. The nebulous concept of ‘authenticity’ offers an alluring selling point to many diners. The comments on the Times’ March 2018 article about stuffed ham generally fall into two categories: fond reminisces or “I gotta try this!”

I haven’t had stuffed ham since I finished the final frozen remains of last year’s attempt. I’m pretty sure I swore off the process of ever making stuffed ham again, but that damned Times article just made the temptation too much to bear.

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Originally, I had intended to work on a variation of former City Paper food writer Henry Hong’s “Fake Ass Stuffed Ham.” Hong is one of the few brave souls who have attempted to adapt the process to something a little more practical. Hong’s recipe called for a Boston Butt which is brined overnight before being rolled up with the requisite stuffings.

With a week until Easter, I decided I’d brine the ham with pink curing salt for a week for a flavor more similar to the Manger Packing Corporation’s hams (which contain nitrite).

This necessitated that I buy the meat that very day. I ended up leaving several grocery stores and a butcher shop empty-handed before finally catching a ride to Giant. Giant happened to have fresh hams so I ended up dropping the whole Boston Butt thing and going with a ham. From there I abandoned any attempt to make this easy.

Kind of makes this entire post pointless, doesn’t it?

Some key differences from last time:

  • I cut off all that tough skin from the ham. None of my recipes specify to do that for some reason (perhaps it should be obvious?) but some of the recipes online do, and it was an improvement. I may throw the cut-away parts in some scrapple or something.
  • This ham brined for a week in my fridge. I’d like to try it again and give it a full month.
  • I blanched the greens and chopped them in a food processor instead of hand-chopping. Definitely the way to go! I also used the mini-chopper to process a lot of black and red pepper.
  • Last but not least…. I de-boned the ham. After watching some youtube videos I took a deep breath and gave it a try. Not the most elegant operation, but I was able to use much more stuffing.

I cut some slits outward from the “bone hole,” and then I cut some additional outer slits in the spaces between them. The whole time, I recalled this quote from Rob Kasper’s article on Stuffed Ham in the Baltimore Sun in 1988:

Ham Bone advocates cook the ham with the bone still in it. They argue that the bone gives flavor and posture to a stuffed ham. Anti-bone forces contend that with the bone removed, the ham is easier to slice and  ‘you can fill up the bone-hole with more stuffing.’”

Almost lyrical.

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Stuffed Ham Recipes, Southern Heritage Cookbook Library

As I  labored away at the incisions, I thought of the point of the blog itself… oftentimes I simply want to taste food that I wouldn’t otherwise. Hearth cooks like Michael Twitty perform their cooking processes as a way of channeling lost voices of the past. Is it possible to channel the living?

I do know that every time I make the ham I think of kindly Bertha Hunt and her connection with her mother… the rightful pride imbued in this labor-intensive tradition. My own mother taught me the basics of carpentry, and even as I acquire new skills I am building on what I learned from her.

While engaged in the act of cooking other peoples’ recipes, I often imagine the ways in which a more experienced person would handle the process. Perhaps  a stuffed ham pro would maneuver the ham expertly, making swift cuts in all the right places. I think about this as I wrangle and struggle with this ridiculous big piece of meat.

Is stuffed ham in any danger of extinction? Perhaps not. But it could be in danger of homogenization, as the home-ham-makers wane, and customers seek out the most “authentic” of hams. In a fascinating article in the Guardian about the British obsession with sandwiches, author Sam Knight interviewed an employee of a large sandwich producer:

“Twenty thousand people a day used to make a ham and cheese sandwich,” said Patrick Crease, a product development manager. “Now this is their ham and cheese sandwich.” I don’t know whether he meant to, but he made this sound somehow profound and irreversible. “There are 20,000 variants that don’t exist anymore.”

I ended this year’s ham-making not by swearing it off but by swearing to make it again, with my excessive red pepper, whatever greens the farmer’s market has to offer, and unskilled hands. Next year I plan to drag some family in on the act.

It may not be authentic, but it is mine.

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Recipe:

  • 1 fresh ham 7-10 lbs
  • curing salt I used Prague Powder #1
  • brown sugar or molasses + white sugar
  • regular salt
  • 3 lbs assorted greens: cabbage, mustard, turnip, chard, kale, cress, spinach
  • several stalks celery, chopped
  • 2 bunches green onions, chopped
  • black pepper to taste
  • 1 teaspoon celery seed or to taste
  • dried red pepper to taste

Take enough water to cover your ham in its vessel and heat the water with a ton of salt & curing salt, plus maybe ½ cup of brown sugar, or white sugar + a little molasses, peppercorns if you want. Basically just search the internet and figure out how much salt you need to keep the ham safe. Maybe ask a butcher or something.
Also ask them if you should remove the tough skin before or after brining. When they tell you, email me please.
If you manage to brine the ham for a month then you should probably soak it in some fresh water  before using… old recipes do this a lot. Since mine went for a week and then I cut off the outside I didn’t bother.
Clean up all your greens and roughly chop, then blanch them in salted water in batches, drying VERY well. Process the greens and celery in food processor until chopped.
Grind pepper and red peppers (I used about…. 12 hot pepper pods). Mix all seasonings with greens and green onions.
Cut slits to your preference. I’m officially on team “bone hole” personally. Like…. you could even boil the bone in the pot if you care about the flavor. Stuff the ham and place in a pillowcase or an old clean t-shirt, pat with all the remaining greens and tie it tight.
Boil for 15 minutes per pound (or until internal temp is over 160 degrees… let it go a little beyond that this isn’t some pork roast) then allow the ham to cool in the water before removing to slice and serve.

Recipe adapted from BGE Cookbook “Maryland Classics,” the Southern Heritage Cookbook Library’s “All Pork” and “Family Gatherings” & “300 Years of Black Cooking in St. Mary’s County”

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Southern Maryland Stuffed Ham

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Just before Easter the air in St. Mary’s County is permeated by the odor of stuffed ham a-cooking.” – Maryland Farewell To Lent, Katherine Scarborough, Baltimore Sun 1950

It takes over an hour to drive from Baltimore to B.K. Miller Meats, but St. Mary’s County resident Bertha Hunt told me that that is where she gets her corned hams, so I made the trip.

When you enter B.K. Miller, you walk through a large liquor store, towards a back doorway. As I passed the aisles of booze I wondered what vestige of a deli I was about to encounter. To my surprise and delight, the back room was bustling. A woman was cooking up sausages and the smell was heavenly. I spotted scrapple, braunschweiger, liver pudding(!), and all the hog parts that are fit to eat stacked within the fridges and freezers.

After I requested the corned ham I’d called ahead for, some attention was drawn to me. “Are you going to stuff it?”, a woman asked. She fondly recalled stuffed ham and we chatted as I filled my arms with impulse purchase charcuterie. The atmosphere was jovial; some people were probably grabbing some meats to grill on that nice day. Others shopped for specialty items. 

I lugged my ham to the front, glancing around at the liquor selection as I made my way to the register. It takes a long time to cook a ham… Alas, my hands were quite full.

It is fortunate that I enjoyed the B.K. Miller atmosphere so much, because it turns out, in a bit of irritating irony, that the ham was produced right in Baltimore by the Manger Packing Corporation.

When I’d inquired about a corned ham from a place in Catonsville, they told me that they don’t get corned hams until “closer to the holidays.” Thinking that they meant some time in April, I asked, “how much closer…?” “November” was the reply. “Oh,” I realized. “THOSE holidays.”

Stuffed ham may be available year-round in St. Mary’s county, but their Catholic origins means that stuffed ham for Easter is a must.

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Baltimore Sun, 1960

Whenever I enjoy stuffed ham I am always reminded of how odd it is that it hasn’t “taken off” as at least a minor trend in the upscale restaurants that peddle in heritage foods. I will no longer wonder about that because now I know – stuffed ham is a real pain in the ass to make, and the options are a minefield of treacherous missteps.

The first point of contention is the type of ham. A 1950 Baltimore Sun article about Easter meals cited a St. Mary’s County authority, Mrs. Mervill Loker, who used a smoked ham. Others emphatically disavow this practice. Since a corned ham is the most commonly used, (and the most obscure and annoying item to get) I figured that was the way to go.

Once the corned ham has been rinsed comes the first real dilemma – to bone or not to bone? In 1988, Sun writer Rob Kasper explored the controversy.
“Ham Bone advocates cook the ham with the bone still in it. They argue that the bone gives flavor and posture to a stuffed ham,” he wrote. But then, “Anti-bone forces contend that with the bone removed, the ham is easier to slice and  ‘you can fill up the bone-hole with more stuffing.’”

While that is a valid and intriguing point, I have no idea how to debone a ham. The bone stays in the ham.

I don’t even know where to begin with the whole greens thing. Cabbage, Kale, Mustard, Cress? While many people say this is a regional preference, I went ahead and got what was easily available at the farmer’s market, which happened to be a little of everything.

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In “Eat, Drink & Be Merry in Maryland,” Colonel John Douglas Freeman includes shallot tops. Since I happened to have some in my garden I threw those in as well. Modern recipes blanch the greens first; I did this because it shrunk them down a bit, allowing me to pack more into the ham.

This is where it gets embarrassing. I don’t know my ham anatomy very well. I did get a few holes stuffed well (with the aid of a wooden spoon handle), but a real expert would have fit WAY more stuffing-holes into the ham. Live and learn.

The next ordeal came when it was time to begin the 5-hour boiling process. My pot was too small. I ended up having to borrow a turkey frying pot from my mom. Honestly, if I do this again I might just boil the whole thing on the turkey-fryer burner and spend the day outside.

There are many Baltimore Sun articles about stuffed ham, but the St. Mary’s College Slackwater oral histories offer local accounts. Interviewees talk about growing greens to stuff the ham with, personal preferences, learning to make the ham, and of course their own processes. An interview with Mary Drury goes into the most detail, describing “the tedious job, almost agony sometimes, of stuffing it until you have as much stuffing in there as you can get in the ham.”

I certainly didn’t find it agonizing but it is a lot of work.

When the process was done I was left with several byproducts – the thick layer of fat from my ham, some extra greens, and gallons of pot liquor. The agonizing thing was admitting that I could only use a few quarts of the pot liquor at most.

According to Rob Kasper’s 1988 Sun piece, “Almost everybody agrees that the best way to enjoy a stuffed ham is to slice it and serve it in sandwiches.” The rest of the particulars are enough to make your head spin but that is some advice I am glad to take. Now, for potato bread, white bread, or wheat….

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Easter in Maryland

My first inklings of Maryland’s varied Easter traditions came from the Southern Heritage Cookbook Library. A menu for a “Southern Maryland Easter Dinner” featured Southern Maryland Stuffed Ham, Creamed Red Potatoes, Baked Tomato Halves, Frilly Deviled Eggs, Biscuits Supreme and Cardinal Pudding. It features this apocryphal account of Stuffed Ham:

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Of course as with many such things, Southern Maryland stuffed ham has a likely slave origin. Stuffed Ham was new to me but as I sampled the various offerings of Raleys, Murphy’s, WJ Dent and other local purveyors, it fast became a favorite. Much has been written about stuffed ham, with more to come, and it will certainly be revisited on Old Line Plate (i hope!).

As fats get eaten up for Lent you will find an array of delicious doughnuts hit the scene. Recipes for fasnachts appear in several old Maryland cookbooks, sometimes under varied names like “fost nock”, or fossnock. Bafflingly, fasnachts go by the name of “Kinkling” in the Frederick area. Not bafflingly, they receive much fanfare.

Baltimore’s large Eastern European population offered contributions and variations on Easter Season menu. Burgersub introduced me to Pączki, another kind of doughnut, for sale in Baltimore. You just have to know where to look.

“The cry of “Who’s got an egg?” would bring youngsters out of their homes, ready to do battle with hard-boiled eggs dyed in shades of blue and pink and yellow.
The game, which today endures around Easter tables in certain families, worked like this:
One kid wrapped a fist around his egg, leaving only the point exposed through a hole between his thumb and index finger. The challenger used the point of his egg to aggressively tap his foe’s egg until one of the shells cracked. The eggs were then turned over and the game repeated with the butt end of the eggs.
The stronger egg would usually win at both ends, and the owner of the weaker egg would forfeit the ovum that had failed him. If there was a draw, the uncracked point would battle the uncracked butt. The loser surrendered his egg.
‘Picking eggs was a big thing around the neighborhoods, I don’t really know where it started,’ said Gene DeCarlo Sr., 68, who keeps the tradition alive in Highlandtown with his grandchildren. ‘You’ve got to remember, in them days eggs weren’t as plentiful as they are now. You won a hard-boiled egg from another kid – that was something good to eat.’
Old-timers remember the sight of champions running the alleys with the pockets of their Easter Sunday trousers bulging with eggs.
‘I think picking eggs was just something they did around Baltimore,’ said Dorothy Kraft, 68, who grew up on Decker Avenue. ‘I never heard of out-of-towners doing it.’
For generations it was part of local Easter along with cakes that looked like chickens and lumps of butter shaped like lambs; pre-dawn street processions with Easter lilies; taking baskets of food to church to be blessed; boys chasing girls on Easter Monday – known to some as “dingus day” – to beat them on the legs with switches; sunrise services at Memorial Stadium; and the annual Easter parades along Charles Street and Pennsylvania Avenue.”

Good Eggs And Nice Memories Of Easter (Baltimore Sun)

There’s a lot more to Maryland than Catholicism and a lot more Easter traditions to look into but its kind of hard to tear myself away from hams and doughnuts.

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Southern Maryland Easter Dinner. Images: Southern Heritage Cookbook Library

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