The 1958 cookbook by the National Council of Negro Women, the “Historical Cookbook of the American Negro,” opens with a photograph of Sojourner Truth and Abraham Lincoln, opposite recipes for the first of January: “Emancipation Proclamation Breakfast Cake” and “Western Beef Steak” from Denver. “The Emancipation Proclamation New Years’ Day, 1863, is celebrated in all parts of the United States. The Council recipes assembled from the six geographical regions have been taken from the oldest files of Negro families,” the book explains below the recipes.
The subsequent recipe, from Council Regions III and IV is for “Southern Hopping John.” No further explanations are needed for what this recipe means and where it is from. The caption instead points out the similarity to another recipe in the book, for Haitian “Plate National,” a similar dish of rice and beans enjoyed in Haiti, where Independence Day is January 1st. The book also includes a rice and beans recipe from Ghana. Together, the recipes imply a powerful message about food and heritage.
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.
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.
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.
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”
From Beef Broth to Banana Fritters, one of my favorite cookbooks to turn to for everyday recipes is “300 Years of Black Cooking in St. Mary’s County.” No book better encapsulates the range of delicious fare produced in the kitchens of Maryland’s home cooks.
As much as I love “Maryland’s Way” and “Eat, Drink & Be Merry in Maryland,” those books contain recipes from the state’s wealthiest families. The Canvasback Duck and Terrapin served in elite hotels and manors may have made our regional food famous, but the culinary talents behind those dishes was an outgrowth of the brilliant and humble cooking traditions captured in the “300 Years.”
Compiled in 1975 by “Citizens for Progress,” the book contains recipes from over 60 residents of St. Mary’s County. There is a history of stuffed ham included, with two different recipes. By far the most recipes were contributed by Theresa Young, whose daughter I spoke to a few years ago for this post.
Sometimes I feel like “300 Years of Black Cooking in St. Mary’s County” is kind of a crutch – a very easy book to turn to when I want to focus on African-American cooking in Maryland. We (historians, Marylanders, whatever…) are very lucky to have a document like this.
On the other hand, the book really is so great that it deserves repeat readings (and cookings.) This time around, I made “Southern Sour Milk Biscuits,” attributed to Mary Helen Dove and Mary Taylor.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t definitively identify either person. It is possible that Mary Helen Dove was a woman who was born around 1897 and passed away in Baltimore in 1981.
A farming family’s home interior, Beachville, MD, 1940, Jack Delano, loc.gov
Whether or not that is true, I often find evidence that the extended families associated with “300 Years” had connections in Baltimore city. Some moved to the city later in life, others would visit with family in Baltimore during the summer. This suggests the influence that the unique culture of Southern Maryland has had on the city I call home.
The concept of urban versus rural implies a lot of arbitrary cultural differences that should be questioned, especially in light of the series of events that have displaced or hindered generations of farmers (black and white).
During and after the Civil War, many Confederates fled Maryland. One was Joseph Forrest, who was a captain of the “Fourth Maryland Light Artillery.” In 1864, Forrest’s abandoned land was seized by General Lew Wallace for use by the Freedmen’s Bureau.
“The purpose of the Bureau was to protect former slaves and provide living quarters and a livelihood where possible… These plantations were called ‘Government Farms.’ The only properties abandoned and seized in all of Maryland were in St. Mary’s County.” – Maryland Historic Trust
House and garden of William Sanders, Farm Security Administration Saint Inigoes, Maryland, Jack Delano 1940, loc.gov
All in all, the Freedmen’s Bureau in St. Mary’s County seized 3000 acres of land for 500 Black citizens to farm. When President Andrew Johnson granted amnesty to the exiled Confederates who had once claimed the land, the white planters got to take the land back. Forrest was pardoned in 1865.
Most Black farmers were tenant farmers or sharecroppers. Those who were able to get land for themselves were often displaced by other circumstances, as in the heartbreaking case of the Dyson family.
My attempts to identify Mary Helen Dove or Mary Taylor entailed another viewing of “Now When I Look Back,” by Andrea Hamer, a book of oral histories and Farm Security Administration photos. I strongly recommend you get yourself to the Maryland Room at the Enoch Pratt Free Library and spend some time with this book. It’s a meditation on history’s legacy, the earth’s bounty, perseverance, and community bonds. All of the things that make Maryland’s history – and our food – so fascinating.
Recipe:
2 Cups flour
.5 Teaspoon baking soda
1 Teaspoon baking powder
1 Teaspoon salt
4 Tablespoon shortening
1 Cup thick sour milk*
Sift together the dry ingredients. Cut in the shortening. Stir in the milk. Roll to 1/2″ thick on a floured surface. Cut, place on a greased or parchment-covered sheet. Bake at 425° for 15-17 minutes.
Modern pasteurized milk generally doesn’t get sour in an appetizing way. If it’s a little off it may be used. I used a mix of milk, yogurt, and beer and left it out overnight to get a nice ‘funk.’
Recipe adapted from “300 Years of Black Cooking in St. Mary’s County”
“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.
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.
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….
According to culinary historian Michael Twitty, cymlings “have a special place in early African American history as they were one of the few squash commonly grown and consumed by the enslaved community.” And certainly this recipe hails from a plantation where that fact is relevant.
“The Plains” (also known as Ophan’s Gift, demolished in 1958) in St. Mary’s County had an interesting story. As you may know, Maryland was (legally) a slave state for nearly a year longer than the southern states that seceded from the Union. Nonetheless, the Union Army allowed for the recruitment of enslaved people as soldiers, and Lt. Eben White visited The Plains in 1863 to do just that.
Lt. Eben White
What actually transpired is unclear but an altercation took place and plantation owner Mr. (Colonel) John Henry Sothoron shot and killed Lt. White. The estate was then seized by the United States under the Confiscation Act, which allowed for the confiscation of property and the freeing of people enslaved by anyone who assisted the rebellion or who were “disloyal citizens.”
“Elizabeth (Somervell) Sothoron, the wife of Col. John Sothoron, and their children were placed under house arrest. On November 22, President Lincoln wrote a letter to Edwin Stanton, Secretary of War stating, in part, “It is represented that the family [Sothoron] are substantially imprisoned in their house by our soldiers and are on starvation. I submit that perhaps some attention better be given to the case”.” – Linda Reno, Leonardtown
Mrs. Sothoron and children left the plantation to live off of the charity of others for several years until the estate was returned to her posession. The family was finally able to return to the estate in spring of 1866. Col. Sothoron, who had fled to Canada after Lincoln was assassinated, was found not-guilty in the fall. The impartiality of this trial remains dubious.
The Plains, Southwest View (Maryland Historical Trust)
I admit to being put off of this recipe at first due to the fact that it seems like a waste.
I love cutting cymlings (aka pattypans) horizontally and grilling or roasting them. They have such a beautiful shape.
However
I had some that were slightly past their peak crispness and so I gave
this treatment a try. (This was in defiance of the recipe which called
for tender young cymlings.)
The cymling dish made a nice dinner
side. I used shallot, and the dish doesn’t cook long, so the onion
flavor was very strong. Straining the squash through a colander proved
to be one of those rare tasks that was more annoying than cleaning out
the food mill, so I ended up tossing it all in there instead.
Recipe:
tender young cymling (pattypan) squash
salt
1 Tablespoon butter, melted
1 Teaspoon chopped onion
salt
pepper, black
1 Tablespoon flour
.5 Cup milk
breadcrumbs
butter
Cut up cymlings and boil in salted water until soft enough to mash through a sieve. Add tablespoon of butter, teaspoon of chopped onion, salt and pepper to taste plus one tablespoon of flour mixed into a half cup milk. Put in baking dish. Cover with bread crumbs, dot with butter and bake until golden brown.
Recipe adapted from Eat, Drink & Be Merry in Maryland, contributed by Mrs. John H Sothoron, The Plains
