Tucked into a patch of woods on the family farm in western Kentucky, the house my father built from scratch was gussied up with homespun flair at Christmastime. Teetering on the edge of overly quaint, it dripped with sentimentality. While the typical high end holiday frenzy was in full swing, the accompanying swag always suggested otherwise. Fresh magnolia leaves, snipped from a relative's ancient towering tree, cascaded down wooden stairwell railings, windows, and mantels as if they had grown from the recycled wood my father fashioned them from. Without fail, airy delicate 12 foot cedar trees, cut from the farm and gently nudged into a designated corner of the combined living area, were always draped in handcrafted wooden ornaments tied with ribbons, fresh cranberries, cherished delicate lace, and simple white lights. To my dismay, there wasn't was shred of glitz or glam. Even so, the simplicity captured me.
The week before Christmas was ham tending time. With our ham shed long gone, our cured Christmas hams were handpicked and procured weeks in advance from various local folks who took the time to do such things. After the hams were soaked in several changes of water for days, simmered on a low flame for hours, wrapped in blankets to steam and cool down, the humble whole country hams were ready for their closeup. Year after year, when the Christmas ham hit the table served on my mother's fine bone china under the dim glow and flickering whisper of tree lights, I knew Christmas had arrived. In my book, there was no need for anything else. It was all about the ham.
Throughout the years, there were too many times I couldn't be home for Christmas. Even then, ham ( any kind of ham) punched my homecoming ticket. My first Christmas living in New York as young naive adventurer, I had very humble resources. Hawking I Heart NY mugs in a suspect souvenir shop on a dank ally within spitting distance of Times Square, I didn't have the fare for the 16 hour train ride to Kentucky for Christmas. Holding fast to what I knew and loved, I clicked my heels. Sweltering in the tiny kitchen of my 3rd floor walk-up above a 24 hour laundromat in Hell's Kitchen on the West Side, I baked a canned ham studded with cloves, marachino cherries, and canned pineapple rings smothered with leftover Chinese take out sweet and sour sauce. Happy Holidays to me.
Nowadays, I go back and forth with various methods for preparing Christmas ham. While old school country ham takes my heart home for the holidays, I'm always game for a sticky glazed smoked ham. It's about the Christmas spirit. As long as there's ham.
Pomegranate Citrus Glazed Bone-In Smoked Ham.
First of all, spiral cut hams are fabulous. While they're incredibly easy to prepare and serve, I like to have slicing options. There will always be leftovers. Always. Aside from using the bone for stock, soup beans, or greens, ham leftovers can run the gamut. It's always good to have a variety of cuts to play with. Thick cut, thin cut. diced, torn, or shredded, whole half hams deliver the option.
Ham it up.
I rarely, if ever, trim extra fat off of ham. Fat is flavor. Fat is fabulous. Working with a 10 pound shank portion of a bone-in smoked half ham, I scored the outer surface of the ham 1/4" deep in a 1" diagonal pattern.
After filling a large roasting pan with 1 cup water, 1/2 cup white wine, 3 bay leaves, 2 cloves whole peeled garlic cloves, fresh thyme sprigs, and a few cloves, I placed the ham cut side down into the roasting pan, covered the ham with aluminum foil, and slid it into a preheated 325 degree oven for 2 1/2 hours, about 16 minutes per pound.
Getting sticky.
I'm a sucker for a sweet sticky glaze. Ham begs for one. That said, pomegranate brings a perky tartness to the party that somehow tempers the typical cloyingly sweet temperament of a traditional ham glaze.
After reducing 2 cups pomegranate juice by half, I added 1 cup fresh squeezed mandarin orange juice, 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice, 1/4 cup light brown sugar, 1/4 cup granulated sugar, 1/3 cup Olberholzter's Sorghum, 1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger, salt, and black pepper. I brought the glaze to a boil, reduced it to simmer, and let it bubble away until it had the consistency of...well..glaze before pulling it from the heat and setting it aside.
Lipstick on a pig.
When the internal temp of the ham hit 145 degrees, I pulled it from the oven, removed the aluminum foil, brushed the ham with the pomegranate glaze, cranked the oven to 425, and slid the ham back into oven. Keeping a close eye, I brushed the ham with additional glaze every 15 minutes until it caramelized and laquered up.
After pulling the ham from the oven to rest for 20 minutes, I nestled it onto a bed of fresh magnolia with sliced pomegranate, lemons, mandarin oranges, and persimmons.
Ham for the holidays.
