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The View from My Kitchen

Benvenuti! I hope you enjoy il panorama dalla mia cucina Italiana -- "the view from my Italian kitchen,"-- where I indulge my passion for Italian food and cooking. From here, I share some thoughts and ideas on food, as well as recipes and restaurant reviews, notes on travel, a few garnishes from a lifetime in the entertainment industry, and an occasional rant on life in general..

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Showing posts with label Ham. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ham. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 7, 2022

Without Ham, Does Arby's Really “Have The Meats!”?

Last Time I Looked, Ham Was Still A Meat


I drove past my neighborhood Arby's the other day. I've been doing that a lot since last fall when the chain wrongheadedly removed any and all traces of ham from their menu.

Arby's ham was simply to die for. More than fifty years ago, the very first commercially prepared ham and cheese sandwich I ever put in my mouth came from Arby's. From that day until just a few months ago, Arby's was my “go-to” fast food choice. I had lunch or dinner at Arby's at least twice a week for more than fifty years. And now I just drive by, sadly longing for the good old days.

See, it was kind of funny, what with Ray Kroc's roaring success with the first McDonald's franchise not far from where I grew up, but I didn't do hamburgers as a kid. For some reason I no longer remember, my mother didn't eat burgers. I think it was a dietary issue of some sort. She had a lot of those. Anyway, she never made them at home and never had them when we went out somewhere. But give her a roast beef sandwich and she was a happy woman.

So when I was growing up, we bypassed the golden arches and headed straight for the big cowboy hat. And it was there that I discovered the juicy, pit-smoked, melt-in-your-mouth joy of perfectly oven-roasted, thinly sliced ham piled high on a sesame seed bun and topped with a slice of melty Swiss cheese.

Now, in those days, Arby's didn't do French fries; their side offering was the potato cake, of which I was not a particular fan. Potato cakes were okay and I came to appreciate them a lot more as I got older. But back in the day it was not at all uncommon for me to get a ham and cheese sandwich at Arby's and then nip over to McDonald's for what were then the world's best French fries. That was, of course, before they started pandering to the veggie crowd and ceased frying their slender shoestring strips of potato in a blend of beef tallow. But that's another issue for another time.

I was at once outraged and devastated the day I pulled in to my local Arby's drive-thru and found that the Ham and Swiss slider – the replacement for my venerable Ham and Swiss melt – had been eighty-sixed from the menu. “Okay,” I said, “Can't you just throw some ham on a bun for me or something?” “I'm sorry, sir,” came the reply. “We no longer have ham.”

WHAT!!! The place that trumpets “We Have The MEATS!” doesn't have ham anymore? Last time I looked, ham was still a meat, right? So, I'm sorry, Arby's, but if you don't have ham, then you don't really have “the meats,” now do you?

I don't know what happened. Some bird-brained bean counter at parent company Inspire Brands corporate headquarters in Atlanta probably crunched some numbers and decided they could save a nickel by ditching one of “the meats.” Of course, by removing ham from the menu, Arby's not only sacrificed the slider but also deep-sixed the Loaded Italian sandwich, one of its more popular offerings. Gone, too, is another heritage staple item, the aforementioned potato cakes. Apparently they hired some marketing research outfit to research their market and the resultant survey indicated that customer demand had shifted. Of course, you'd never know that by looking at Twitter and Reddit and other social media platforms where the disappointment is pretty palpable.

And then, adding insult to injury, Arby's has just announced itself to be a hamburger joint, a direct slap in the face to founders Forrest and Leroy Raffel. The Raffel brothers – the R Bs in “Arby's” – wanted to operate a fast food franchise based on something other than hamburgers. But they're long gone and nobody cares, right? So let's hype a new fifty-two-percent Waygu beef burger that we can peddle for more than six bucks a pop. And never mind that the food critic for the Washington Post calls it a “big, beautiful, beefy blunder.”

But corporate is standing by its choices and proclaiming that customer satisfaction is its main priority. Ummm.....look over here, guys. This lifelong customer ain't satisfied. And I've got a lot of company.

And you can tell me all day long that your disastrous decision to discontinue popular traditional menu items “simply means that there are even more delicious options to look forward to for the future.” I won't be there to try them. There's a Hardee's right down the street from my nearby Arby's and they still have a pretty decent ham and cheese sandwich there. Not as good as Arby's by a long shot, but better than the nothing option I'm getting from my former favorite fast food choice.

So come on, Ving Rhames, let me hear you say it: “Arby's. We have the meats....all except ham!”

UPDATE: This worthy petition is barely showing up on the radar. Let's give it a boost!  https://www.change.org/p/arby-s-bring-back-ham-and-cheese-sliders-at-arby-s

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

Time To Stop Wasting Sliced Deli Meat

Keep Your Lunch Meat Out Of The Landfill


Some time ago I wrote about a pretty slick trick for saving bacon. (Bacon Is A Terrible Thing To Waste, April 12, 2017) When there's just one or two of you a pound of bacon can spoil before you eat it all, so I suggested freezing it as a means of preserving it. Not too revolutionary a concept, right? But it was the way in which I froze it that was rather unique. Instead of throwing the whole shingled package into the freezer and then having to deal with trying to separate the slices as you need them, I rolled up each individual slice and froze them that way. Using that trick, you can get an entire pound of bacon into a quart freezer bag and you can take out a single slice or ten of them, depending on your needs, with no fuss or effort. Thaw them in the microwave for thirty seconds or so and you're ready to go.

Well, I found I was having the same issue with packaged deli meats. Deli meats go bad quickly once the packages are opened. You've only got a three to five-day window to use it up and as much as I like ham and cheese sandwiches, I really don't want to have one every day for a week. So once again, the freezer is the answer.

Most deli meats are sliced very thin. I knew throwing the whole package in the freezer was going to be as much of a pain as doing the same thing with bacon. So I tried separating the slices into portions. For example, I usually put four slices of ham on a ham and cheese, so I divided the package into four-slice portions, separated by deli paper, and froze them. It worked okay, but unless they were completely thawed, the thin slices tore as I tried to separate them. And since most packaged deli meats are “water added,” they get wet and messy when you thaw them. Okay. Back to the drawing board. I used the deli paper to separate the individual slices. Eh. All that got me was wet slices wrapped in wet deli paper when the meat was thawed.

And then the little light bulb came on: why not freeze the deli meat slices the same way as I froze the bacon strips?

I picked up an eight-ounce package of Hormel Natural Choice Sliced Smoked Deli Ham. I opened the pack and started to work, taking each slice and rolling it into a neat cylinder. The rolled cylinders went seam side down onto a sheet tray and then into the freezer. After about an hour they were set enough that they wouldn't unroll and they wouldn't stick together, so I removed them from the sheet tray and popped them into a freezer bag. I labeled the bag with the contents and the date, and it went back in the freezer. Now I had a nice little bag of frozen ham rolls. Next time I wanted a sandwich, I got the bag out of the freezer, selected four rolls, put them on a paper towel in the microwave for thirty seconds, and just like that, I had the makings for a nice lunch.

According to the USDA, “Lunch meat is safe indefinitely if kept frozen. Use it within one to two months for best quality.” I've never had a package of ham last me more than two months, so I can't testify to the verity of that statement, but it is certainly a better alternative than letting it go bad in the refrigerator after just a few days.

The same method works for chicken, turkey, roast beef and whatever else you get from your deli or packaged meat aisle. I will say this: it works a lot better with prepackaged meat like the aforementioned Hormel product. Or whatever your brand preference might be. Freshly sliced meat from your store's deli is a little more finicky. Especially poultry. Not a lot of water and not a lot of fat. My wife is a big fan of Boar's Head Ovengold Turkey. Let me tell you, that stuff shreds like a mad thing when it's sliced super thin, which is the way she likes it. Can you say “pulled turkey sandwich?” And freezing it the common way only exacerbates the problem. But it rolls up pretty well if you ask your deli person to separate it as it's being sliced and then process it as soon as you get it home before it has a chance to sit in the meat drawer of your refrigerator.

Hey, there's a lot of talk these days about food waste, so why not try a simple method to help keep your lunch meat out of the landfill? I know it takes a few minutes of tedious effort to roll up slices of ham or roast beef or whatever. (Rolling up bacon is extra fun because it's nice and greasy.) But the payoff is well worth the pain when you can just go to the freezer, unzip your Zip-Loc, and have nice, neat, perfectly portioned, mess-free little meat roll-ups right at hand for whatever your needs might be. It's an especially good idea if you want to save a few bucks by buying in larger quantities than you otherwise would. Think Sam's, Costco, or your local restaurant supply store. Instead of shelling out supermarket prices for little half-pound packages, buy two or three pounds, roll it up and freeze it. And you'll have quick and easy sandwiches for a couple of months.

As I wrote before, a great way to (literally) save your bacon can also work for your ham, roast beef, chicken or whatever you want to serve your family rather than your dog or your trash can. Saves food, saves money. Win-win situation. Try it today.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Preparing Ham For Easter (Or Any Holiday)

Don't Cheap Up On The Star

Photo credit The New York Times
Here comes Peter Cotttontail, hopping down the bunny trail......dragging a ham behind him. At least where the bunny trail crosses the United States. Peter's cousins in other parts of the world are likely to be toting lambs to the Easter feast. But in the US, ham is the holiday protein of choice. Ever wonder why?

Food historians say that eating ham at Easter dates back to around sixth century Germany. Pigs were abundant in Northern Europe and fall was the time for slaughtering them. With no refrigeration or other means of preservation, fresh pork was hung to cure during the long winter months, providing sustenance after other stored meats had been consumed. When spring – and Easter – rolled around, ham was what was left from the fall harvest. European settlers brought pigs with them to the New World, and the Easter ham tradition took root in the US.

Ham comes in many forms, depending on where you're eating it. In Italy, it's delectable prosciutto di Parma or prosciutto di San Daniele. In Spain, it's Jamón Ibérico or Jamón Serrano. Germany is famous for its smoky Schwarzwälder Schinken, or Black Forest ham, while England boasts of Wiltshire cured and York ham.

Here in the US, ham is broadly divided into two types; “country” ham and “city” ham. Country ham is a salt-cured delicacy found primarily in the South. The ham most people buy from the supermarket and cook for their Easter feasts is the more common “city” variety.

City hams are cured in some fashion and are generally sold ready-to-eat. Only a “fresh” ham – a plain hunk of raw pork – has to be completely cooked before you can eat it. And you probably won't find any of those at the local Piggly Wiggly or Kroger. Fresh ham is usually a specialty butcher shop item. Most regular “store-bought” cured hams are pre-cooked and just need to be warmed through. The label will say “cooked” or “fully cooked” or “ready to eat.” And you could actually just saw off a slice and slap it on a plate if you wanted, but most people opt to bake it in the oven. It's really better that way.

City hams are moister than country hams because of the way they are cured. Country ham is dry cured: it's rubbed with salt and seasonings and then hung up to dry in a smoky curing room for anywhere from five or six weeks to five or six months and sometimes longer. This results in a deep, rich flavor and a rather dry texture. Some city hams are dry cured using a mixture of salt and sugar or honey. Most, however, are wet cured: they are injected with a solution called a “brine.” Brines are made up of water and ingredients such as salt, sugar, sodium nitrite, sodium nitrate, sodium erythorbate, sodium phosphate, potassium chloride, and other flavorings. This method insures a moister meat. It also adds weight to the finished product.

The water content of a ham determines its grade and quality. Product labeled simply “ham” is the highest – and thus most expensive – grade. It's at least 20.5 percent protein. Some water is added, but much less than what is added to lower grades. The next level down is “ham with natural juices,” a product that is 18.5 percent protein and only seven or eight percent water. Still a good choice. Product labeled “ham, water added” is at least 17 percent protein and no more than ten percent added water. “Ham and water product” is the cheapest grade of ham and may contain twenty percent or more water by weight. So check your labels carefully.

As you can see, all ham is not created equal. And when laying out a big Easter (or other holiday) feast, you don't want to cheap up on the star. Buy the best ham you can afford. And buy enough to go around. The uses for leftover ham are practically limitless. Bone-in ham is going to be the most flavorful, although there's nothing wrong with boneless ham. Just steer clear of canned ham, please. I've heard canned ham called the “hot dog of the ham world” because it's made from leftover scraps of other hams that are then packed with gelatin, sealed in cans, and cooked by steam. And consider this: it's shelf-stable for two years. Thank you, no.

A lot of people love their spiral-sliced ham. All cut up and ready to serve with no carving involved. The problem with spiral-sliced ham is it can be tricky to cook. The potential for producing cardboard ham is much greater with the pre-sliced variety than it is with a ham you carve yourself. If you're going to be serving your ham cold, go for the spiral-sliced. But if you plan to cook it – well, warm it; it's already cooked – you're better off with an unsliced ham. Some cooks disagree, and that's fine. I'm just saying you have to be a much more careful cook when dealing with a spiral-sliced ham. Not always good for beginners.

That leads to a discussion of whole or half, butt or shank? Frankly, you're not going to see too many whole hams in a grocery store. A whole ham can weigh upwards of fifteen pounds. Unless you're hosting the Waltons, that's probably more than you'll need. Most supermarket hams are half hams, cut into either the butt half or the shank half. The butt is the upper portion of the leg and the shank is the lower portion. The butt or shank question is largely a matter of preference. The butt end is a bit leaner and usually a bit more expensive. It comes with the aitch-bone, an oddly shaped porcine pelvic bone, intact. Unless you're pretty deft with a knife, you might want to go with the shank end. It contains a higher ratio of fat (which tends to make it moister), and it has only one straight bone to deal with, making it easier to carve.

The USDA says a serving of boneless ham equals 1/4 to 1/3 pound. For bone-in, it's 1/3 to 1/2 pound. By those estimates, you'd need at least a 3.5-pound boneless or a 4.5- to 5-pound bone-in ham in order to feed fourteen people. That's pretty skimpy, if you ask me – or just about anybody else who has ever served ham to a bunch of hungry diners. A better rule of thumb would be if you're buying a boneless ham, allow a minimum of 1/2 pound per person. Up that to 3/4 pound per person if you're buying bone-in because you have to allow for the weight of the bone in your calculation. If you're serving fourteen people, you'll probably be good with a seven or eight-pound ham. If you think people will be really hungry, go with as much as a pound per person. But have those leftover ham recipes handy.

When it comes time to cook – okay, heat up – your ham, low and slow is the way to go. You just need to get the internal temperature of the ham up to 145°. You can actually pull it when the thermometer registers about 135° to 140°; carry-over heat will take it the rest of the way.

Okay, so set your oven to 250° to 300° and let it preheat while you prep the ham. There are all kinds of things you can do to fancy up ham: you can stud it with cloves, you can slather it with mustard, you can glaze it with honey, maple, brown sugar, or combinations thereof. The choice depends on your taste. My son likes his ham absolutely naked; just the natural smoky flavor. I like it that way, too, but I'm also partial to a little sweet glaze. Cloves impart a traditional flavor to ham and some folks love their ham covered in mustard. Whatever. But however you finish your ham, you should start by scoring it.

To score a ham, start from the bottom and work toward the top. Using a sharp paring or utility knife and moving clockwise, make shallow cuts through the skin and the first layers of fat. Don't go too deep. Rotate the ham after each cut so that the scores are no more than two inches across. Once you've gone around clockwise, switch your knife to the other hand and go around again, working counter clockwise. You're trying to achieve an even diamond pattern all over the surface of the ham. You do this for several reasons; one, it looks pretty. It also enables the outer layer of fat to crisp up nicely and it allows any glaze or seasoning you put on top to penetrate into the meat.

Now place the ham, fat side up, on a rack in a shallow roasting pan. Not everybody uses a rack, but I do. The size of the pan you’ll need depends on the size of your ham. Usually, a 9 x 3 x 13 works well. Just make sure the ham fits comfortably in the pan without touching the sides. Tent the ham loosely with heavy-duty aluminum foil and pour at least a half-cup of some sort of liquid in the bottom of the pan. Water is fine, but you can use wine or stock or something with a compatible flavor if you so desire. The point of the exercise is to keep the ham moist as it cooks.

I swear by probe thermometers. This is a temperature sensing device that has a probe on the end of a long shaft that is attached to a cable. The cable, in turn, is plugged in to a monitor mounted outside your oven door. You place the probe in the meat, set the time and/or temperature desired on the monitor, and you're done fooling with it. The device will let you know when the meat is done. No constantly opening the oven door, pulling out the rack, uncovering the ham, and puncturing the meat with a big honkin' meat thermometer. If said big honkin' meat thermometer is all you've got, okay. Monitoring the temperature is the important thing. But why not do it the easy way?

Rule of thumb says you should allow a cooking time of about twenty minutes per pound of ham. So a seven-pound ham is gonna take about 140 minutes, or just shy of two-and-a-half hours. A ten-pounder will take a little over three hours. Adjust that upward slightly if you're cooking a bone-in ham.

If you are studding the ham with cloves, do it right after you score it. If you are glazing your ham, though, don't do it right off the bat. Anything you want to pat or brush on should happen later. Wait until twenty or thirty minutes before the end of the cooking time or when the internal temperature reaches about 120°. Then pull the ham out of the oven, uncover it, slather on the glaze and return it, uncovered, to the oven. Crank the heat up to 350° or so for those last few minutes so the glaze can set. Keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't burn. Glaze recipes are a dime a dozen. Find one you like. Just don't use the nasty, goopy, prepackaged stuff that sometimes comes with the ham. Trust me on this.

Allow the ham to rest for at least fifteen minutes before you carve it. Don't worry, it'll stay plenty warm. In fact, that's part of the reason for resting. Resting meat after cooking serves two purposes; it allows the carry-over cooking I mentioned before to finish happening and it allows the natural juices in the meat to redistribute. Meat is made up of muscle fibers. When you cook it, those fibers tighten up and squeeze out liquid. Some of that moisture moves to the surface and evaporates. The rest remains in the meat. When the cooking process stops, that remaining moisture redistributes itself back through the meat fibers. If you pull meat straight out of the oven and cut right into it, the liquid will run out and pool on your plate, leaving you with a hunk of dry meat. By letting it rest, the moisture is re-absorbed, ensuring meat that is more tender and juicy.

If all else fails, the good folks at Kentucky Legend Ham operate a porky version of the famous Thanksgiving Butterball Turkey Talk-Line, except it's available year round. Call 1-866-343-5058 anytime between 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. and ask your hammy questions. Chances are they'll have an answer.

Buona fortuna, buon mangiare e buona Pasqua!


Tuesday, November 25, 2014

All About Ham

Hamming It Up!

My wife and I were attending some fancy function or other. The guy acting as master of ceremonies onstage was a fellow broadcasting “celebrity.” Having been around the local area practically since the days of Marconi, he was what you call “beloved.” And, boy, was he ever laying it on. Not at all out of character for this fellow, but a bit inappropriate for the occasion. The event was not intended to be a “star” vehicle for his inflated ego. He had a script he was supposed to follow, but his incessant jokes and ad libs were beginning to cause some timing issues. Yet still he persisted in trying to be the center of focus, as he had been doing since dirt was invented. I leaned over to my wife and said, “Even I am not that big a ham.” To which she sweetly replied, “Oh, yes you are, honey. He's just had longer to cure.” Hmmmmm.

So maybe it's a touch cannibalistic of me to say that, next to bacon, ham is my favorite meat. Bacon was the first meat I learned to love as a child and ham was next. I like country ham and I like city ham. I like it maple glazed, honey baked, or hardwood smoked. Wet cured or dry, cut from the butt end or the shank, produced in Parma, Italy or in good ol' Smithfield, Virginia, I'll take it any way I can get it. To paraphrase Will Rogers, I've never met a ham I didn't like. Well.....almost. We'll get to that part later.

First, let's figure out what a “ham” is......other than the reference above. By the way, it may interest you to know that the word “ham” as applied to one who outrageously overacts is thought to derive from the old minstrel show days when performers used ham fat to remove their heavy black makeup. Beyond that, a ham is the preserved hind leg of a pig. The word itself is derived from an Old English term for the hollow or bend of the knee, which, in turn, came from a Germanic word for “crooked.”

People have been preserving pork legs for human consumption since at least Roman times. There is evidence that the Chinese were doing it long before that. And unless you are Jewish or Muslim, chances are your ethnic culture has its own unique way of preserving, or “curing,” ham. There are Wiltshire and York cured hams in England, Schwarzwälder Schinken or “Black Forest” hams in Germany, the prized jamón serrano from Spain, and, of course, the incomparable prosciutti produced in the Parma and San Daniele regions of Italy. Here in the United States, almost every state gets in a plug for its proprietary hams, whether it be Georgia or Kentucky, Vermont, Tennessee, or North Carolina. Then there's the largely undisputed king of hams from Virginia, specifically around the town of Smithfield, where evidence of eponymous ham production dates back to Colonial days.

Regardless of where it's produced, though, there are just a few basic procedures involved in curing ham: salting, smoking, drying, aging, and spicing. Many of these procedures overlap and most producers use varying combinations to achieve their unique cures. There's also unprocessed, uncured ham, referred to as “fresh” ham, but it's kind of hard to find in supermarkets. Although fresh ham is undeniably delicious, most people gravitate toward the traditional cured varieties.

Salting meat has been going on for millennia. It's the method the aforementioned ancient Chinese supposedly perfected. Today's salting process is fairly simple; you clean the raw meat, chill it to about forty degrees Fahrenheit, and then cover it in salt. Salt is a natural antibacterial agent that kills harmful microbes by osmosis. There's a long scientific explanation of the process with which I could bore you, but basically, the salt draws life-giving moisture out of the bacteria, causing them to dry up and die. These days, however, further molecular chemistry often plays a part in the salting process. Sometimes salted hams are “sugar-cured” with – guess what – sugar, which mellows out the sharpness of the salt. Most cured hams contain sodium nitrite. Sodium nitrite is the natural enemy of Clostridium botulinum, the nasty bug that causes what is commonly called “botulism.” But nitrites also contribute to the flavor of the meat and, by their interaction with myoglobin, cause it to turn that nice pink color we usually associate with ham. Nitrites have been part of the curing process for many, many, many years, but there's been a lot of talk lately about their potential carcinogenic properties. Under most normal conditions, ingested nitrites transform into nitric acid, which is generally okay. Sometimes, however, they can form nitrosamines, which are not okay. There is conflicting science on the topic. As is usually the case, you would have to consume massive quantities of the stuff in order to be adversely affected, but the FDA comes down on the side of caution and limits the amount of residual nitrites present in cured meats. I could go on and on about the enzymatic actions and proteolysis and the effects on protein and amino acids and all that scientific stuff involved in salt curing but I would get as lost writing it as you would reading it, so suffice it to say that dry curing with salt works and has done so for a long, long time. Salt curing alone, however, does not cook a ham. Most of them are also smoked.

Bugs don't like smoke. Smoke keeps big bugs like gnats and mosquitoes away from your picnic and in the curing process it kills itty-bitty bugs like bacteria through a combination of physical and chemical actions that just make them turn up their little toes. Besides its antibacterial properties, wood smoke imparts wonderful flavors to meats. If you really want to know, the flavors are the result of lignin polymers in the wood producing a naturally occurring organic compound called guaiacol and its derivatives as a result of thermal breakdown. (I knew you'd want to know.) Hickory smoke is very common, although it is also very strong and can leave an almost astringent taste. Apple wood produces a milder smoke which imparts a nice sweet flavor to bacon and ham. Cherry wood smoke produces a fruity flavor similar to apple, but it is not as commonly used. Maple wood also produces a sweet, mild flavor. Alder, oak, pecan, and mesquite are frequently used to smoke other meats, but are not usually applied to ham.

Of course, you can't have smoke without heat. Well......there's so-called “liquid smoke,” but that's another discussion entirely. The heat produced by the smoking process subjects the ham to long, low-temperature cooking. Commercially smoked hams usually reach an internal temperature of about 140 degrees Fahrenheit. That's why most smoked, cured hams in grocery stores are labeled either “partially cooked,” “fully cooked,” or “ready to eat.” That means you can just pop a slice in your mouth and chow down. You can't do that with fresh hams, but you can with most cured hams. They don't really require any further cooking. And that's why it's so easy to dry out one of those holiday hams. Because they're already cooked, there's a fine line between warming the meat while retaining its moisture and drying it out and turning it to shoe leather. What you do with that holiday ham at Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas is pretty much just a matter of warming it to about 130 degrees. Unless it's a “fresh” ham, you could just slap it on the table cold and carve it up. You could. Just don't invite me to dinner.

Unsmoked hams are often air dried. After the meat is salted, it is sometimes pressed to extrude any remaining blood and impurities. Then it is washed and hung up to dry under strict temperature and humidity controlled conditions. And we're not talking about a couple of days. We're talking about somewhere between nine months and a year, during which time the meat thoroughly dehydrates and any moisture-starved bacteria hanging around thoroughly croaks. This is how they make prosciutto and Serrano hams. Such unsmoked hams are also considered to be raw and that's the way you eat 'em. You might warm prosciutto up a little bit, but you don't really “cook” it. And that's okay. It's perfectly safe. Any microscopic critters that might have been trying to establish a foothold a year ago have long since dried up and blown away. This drying method sort of dovetails with the aging method I mentioned as one of the basics.

Then there's spicing. Not a lot of American hams are spice cured, although seasonings like black and red pepper are commonly added. But many European hams are spiced, especially those produced in Italy. Ham products like culatello are cured with various blends of herbs and spices, sometimes including garlic, juniper, paprika, and even wine before being hung out to dry. The resulting flavors are phenomenal, even if the initial appearance is a little off-putting. See, hams hung up to dry age like this usually come away covered in a coating of mold that looks thoroughly unappetizing. But once you scrape and scrub it all off, the meat underneath is both safe to eat and really, really good.

One more form of curing that needs to be mentioned: wet curing. Most common grocery store hams are wet-cured and are generally referred to as city hams. Wet-cured hams are basically brined hams. They are soaked in a solution of salt, sugar and other flavorings for a period of anywhere from three days to two weeks. Sometimes they are smoked, sometimes not. A lot of people prefer wet-cured city hams to dry-cured country hams. They tend to be moister and have more of a porky flavor. Country hams are drier and taste more salty. One note about wet curing; some producers take short cuts and, rather than soaking their ham in brine, they mechanically inject a combination salt/sugar/smoke flavoring into the meat, resulting in a quick cure that only takes a few days. It's cheaper that way but not necessarily better. And wet curing also adds weight to the finished product, so you're paying extra for the water.

So far, we've been talking about whole hams. A whole ham can weigh in at about twenty pounds and it is just that – the whole ham from butt to shank. “Butt,” by the way, does not refer to the pig's nether region; it is the large blunt or “butt” end of the leg where it attaches to the body. Technically, I suppose, it is the pig's “butt,” but bear in mind that the pig's front shoulder joint is also called “pork butt.” The “shank” end is the narrower end that used to be attached to the pig's lower leg.

Half hams, the kind most people buy when they go shopping for the holiday or dinner table, are usually sold as either butt or shank portions. They generally weigh less than ten pounds and can easily feed twelve to fourteen people. The butt or upper end is a little meatier and fattier, and is, therefore, sometimes a bit more expensive. Because it usually contains part of the hip or “aitch” bone, it can be a little trickier to carve. The shank or lower portion is easier to carve, but the meat tends to be a little tougher.

A lot of folks go nuts over having to carve a ham. They seem to think you have to have served an internship as a surgeon or something in order to do it properly, so they go out and buy pre-sliced or spiral sliced hams. The spiral slicing technique was patented in 1952 by its inventor, Harry J. Hoenselaar, who went on to found the HoneyBaked Ham Company in 1957. Nothing wrong with buying pre-sliced ham, but you often pay dearly for the convenience. Spiral-sliced hams are also really easy to dry out, so be careful when you heat them up.

Hams are sold bone-in or boneless. By and large, bone-in hams are more flavorful, but boneless are easier to carve and serve. The biggest difference is textural. Bone-in hams have better, more natural texture than boneless. This is because when the bone is removed, the ham has to be reshaped in a vacuum tumbler. Otherwise it falls apart when you try to carve it. This process often imparts an odd, spongy texture. It's not all that bad, but there is a noticeable difference.

You can buy ham slices or ham “steaks” all neatly wrapped in plastic in your grocer's meat case. These are generally cut from the shank end of the ham and contain a small circle of bone in the center. It's a good alternative if a big ol' hunk of ham is just too much. At least it is actually recognizable as a portion of ham from some part of a pig.

Not so much with so-called “deli” ham or “canned” ham. Come on. Be honest. Have you ever seen any kind of pig with any parts that are shaped like that? And when it comes to canned ham, packaged sliced ham, and even the ham products in the deli case, “parts” is the operative word. Well.....one of the operative words. The other one is “pressed.”

Canned ham and “sandwich” ham are produced by taking ham parts and scraps – sometimes even bone scraps – and pressing them into a solid mass. Even though the parts have been smoked and cured, by the time they come together in those nifty little loaf shapes, they have had enough water added that they are very subject to spoilage. That's why they're in the refrigerated section and that's why you need to keep them refrigerated at home. In addition to water, many of them also contain enough chemicals to preserve an Egyptian mummy. The stuff they slice “fresh” in the deli is not so preservative laden. That's why it is recommended that you use “deli” ham within a few days of purchase.

Now, I'm not going to try to convince you that I never use packaged or sliced ham. I do. There's some in the refrigerator right now. And you and I both know the ham they serve up in sandwiches at delis and fast-food places does not come fresh from the hind quarter of a pig they've got hanging up in the cooler. It's processed and there's not much you can do about it. Except to try to choose the best quality, most minimally processed processed ham you can find. I'd avoid the stuff in the one pound bags that sells for less than a dollar, if I were you. Spend the money. And read the labels. Here's what's in the packaged ham in my refrigerator: ham, water, salt, turbinado sugar, celery juice powder, and lactic acid starter culture. The celery juice is added as a source of nitrate. The lactic acid starter is a preservative that acts as a flavor enhancer. I also checked on a cheap national brand found in most stores. It contains: ham, water, salt, dextrose, sodium lactate, sodium phosphate, sodium diacetate, sodium erythorbate, and sodium nitrite. Would you like a little extra salt with that?

And as far as canned hams go, they make great doorstops. Back in my younger, far less educated days, I used to buy these neat little canned ham patties. They were convenient and they sort of tasted like ham. Then one day, I got one that was so loaded with fat, gristle, and bone fragments that I wouldn't even feed the rest of it to my dog. If you'll pardon the pun, I was “cured” of buying that particular canned ham product. As far as regular canned ham goes, anything that comes packaged in its own aspic and is “shelf stable” for two or three years......well........enough said. In researching this article, I came across a review of a canned ham product in which the reviewer said, “Food snobs may be appalled at the very idea of canned ham, but I just enjoy the convenience, the consistent quality and the ease of preparation.” Okay, so I'm a food snob. But when I go to my grave, it won't be with innards that are already preserved, thank you.

Of course, no treatise on ham would be complete without a mention of the granddaddy of all preserved ham products, one which has had songs written about it and that is a cultural staple in Hawaii. I'm talking about Spam! There. I mentioned it.

One last word about buying ham: water. All but the highest grade of ham has water added. Those high grade hams can be easily identified by the label, which just says “ham.” Next, you're likely to see “ham in natural juices.” Okay. Water is a “natural juice,” you know, and that's what you're getting. Sometimes as much as ten percent added weight. The next grade down is labeled “ham, water added.” At least they're up front about it. What they may not be up front about is the amount of water they've added. Read the fine print. Finally, there's “ham and water product.” Run away. These products can actually contain more than fifty percent water, meaning they are made up of more water than meat. Nah.

I haven't gone into cooking methods and techniques because there are a ton of them and this article is already bordering on too long. Maybe I'll do another on cooking ham someday. But for now, I hope you're at least a little better informed about that delectable portion of porcine perfection, ham. You know, that word really should be spelled with more “m”s. “Ham-m-m-m-m.” Yeah, that's better.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

The Absolute Best Bacon

Sinfully Delicious Porky Ambrosia

I just finished reading an article that I couldn't resist. It purports to identify the best bacons known to man. (http://shine.yahoo.com/shine-food/10-best-bacons-known-man-162800607.html)

When listing the “best” of anything, it is a completely subjective exercise based largely upon personal opinion. And you know how I feel about opinions; everybody is entitled to mine. And in my opinion, the authors here missed the bacon boat by one slab. But all is not lost. Way down in the comments section following the main body of text, somebody got it. Somebody mentioned the absolute best bacon known to man. That would be the thick, rich, unctuous, salty, smoky, sinfully delicious porky ambrosia produced in a little brick smokehouse just outside Madisonville, Tennessee by Allan Benton at Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams.

Now, other than this egregious exclusion, I'm going to give the authors credit for most of their choices. I say “most.” Nueske's definitely belongs up there in the bacon stratosphere, as do any of the choices that contain reference to “applewood” and/or “smoked.” I'll even grant them kudos for selecting Oscar Meyer Center Cut as the best “store bought” bacon money can buy. But in order to be taken seriously here, they've got to lose the duck.

Here's the dictionary definition of bacon: “the back and sides of the hog, salted and dried or smoked, usually sliced thin and fried for food.” Do you see “duck,” “turkey,” “cow,” “chinchilla,” or any other animal presented in that very simple definition? No. Bacon = pig. Period. End of discussion.

So let's go back to the original article, eliminate the duck aberration, and add Benton's bacon to the top of the list. Now we're cookin'!

There's a reason Allan Benton has been called “the Pork Whisperer” and elevated to the station of “Bacon Baron.” There's a reason David Chang at New York's legendary Momofuku, Sean Brock at Charleston's famed McCrady's, John Fleer at Walland, Tennessee's renowned Blackberry Farm and a host of other Michelin-starred chefs from all over seek out Benton's bacon. There's a reason it shows up on the menu in restaurants from Los Angeles to Atlanta. There's a reason John T. Edge featured it in Gourmet, and its been mentioned in Southern Living , Saveur and a host of other national publications. It's the same reason I'll get off I-75 and make a sixty mile round trip detour anytime I'm in East Tennessee. Allan Benton does bacon the way bacon is supposed to be done. The old-fashioned way. The real bacon way. Some might call it “artisan” bacon, and by any definition, Allan Benton is an artisan. But he'll tell you it's just country.

With the exception of refrigeration, there ain't nothin' mechanical or 'lectrical at Benton's. Everything is done by hand; everything from the cutting of the hickory wood for the smokehouse through the processing of the meat itself. And that meat is exceptional, too. Nothing but pasture-raised, heritage-breed pigs, like Berkshire and Duroc, who feed on natural forage like the leaves and acorns and grasses of oak forests. According to Benton, the meat from these pigs contains more intramuscular fat and has a heartier flavor.

We Cure 'Em” says the hand-painted sign out front. And that's just what they do at Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams. Relying on age-old techniques, handed down through generations, the meats at Benton's are slow-cured. He uses a rub made of salt and brown sugar and then smokes the bacon in thick clouds of hickory or applewood smoke. “We smoke the heck out of them for three days,” says Benton.

Back in 2009, Esquire Magazine called Benton's “the world's best bacon.” Now, how are you going to argue with a culinary authority like that?

And here's the best part: you can get four pounds of Benton's Hickory Smoked Country Bacon for $24. Hello? That's six bucks a pound! Compared that to the prices of some of the other bacons on that “top ten” list. It's only a dollar a pound more than the premium store-bought brand. Now, if you order online through http://bentonscountryhams2.com/ it'll be about a month before you get your bacon. They're a little busy, you see. But if you happen to be anywhere within, oh, say a hundred miles of Madisonville, Tennessee – it's just a little ways south of Knoxville – you might just drop in at 2603 Highway 411 and get some direct from the smokehouse. That's the way I do it. Or sometimes I get friends passing through to supply me. Who wants to wait a month for slices of the bacon they probably serve in heaven?

See why I believe the authors of the “ten best” list goofed? Go ahead and try their favorites. And then treat yourself to mine – and Emeril's and Hugh Acheson's and Sean Brock's and........

Try the rest, then buy the best: Benton's Hickory Smoked Country Bacon from Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams. It's so good that if you put it on top of your head, your tongue will slap your brains out trying to get to it.