Yesterday at the West Seattle Farmer's Market, I picked up a piece of ham and some country pate from a local farmer. I just had the pate for lunch. It was good. Very home made and nearly crunchy and very tasty. With a little cream cheese and some ginger pickles from the Japanese grocery. Yum lunch.
But, the ham...
In the South, when I grew up, ham was a staple. You had potatoes. You had biscuits. You had ham. You were good for breakfast, lunch, dinner, cocktail hour, surprise drop in guests - anything and everything. Ham was the king of the kitchen.
And, now having lived in other parts of the country, I have come to understand that I need to be explicit. I'm not talking about the watered ham that is in the lunchmeat packages at the grocery store. I'm not even talking about the honey baked spiral cut stuff. I'm talking about ham that has been lovingly cured in salt and smoke for a long time and is not pretty. In fact, a good country ham looks like mold has made it inedible.
(A good country ham - whole - even back in the day was pretty expensive and a fine fine fine gift. My Mom's friend had one sent to her new beau - a weathly guy from California. He got it and called most upset because her gift had arrived spoiled and he had to throw it out. He threw out a perfectly wonderful, very expensive, ready to eat country ham. It was a story told so often that everyone felt badly for Mom's friend that she couldn't find a suitable fellow nearer where folks knew what was good.)
But, I digress.
Last night I sliced up the little butt of ham that I had gotten yesterday and slow cooked it on stove and it was heaven. The perfume alone was orgasmic. But the taste was out of this world. I saved the drippings for gravy next time I make breakfast.
I found the farm's website and see they are regulars at the West Seattle and the Ballard farmer's markets. I am so their new best customer!
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