In case you’ve missed the news lately — or have given up on the concept of “time” altogether — it’s been a few days more than a year since Pandemic Panic pushed the country (along with most of the world) into lockdown.
With everything from restaurants to theaters and even parks and beaches closed down, it became very hard to not feel like we were all living in our own personal Groundhog’s Day. Not much separated one day from the next. Self-quarantining made it nearly impossible to experience new things…
…Unless you embarked upon a notably silly weekly sandwich journey based arbitrarily on a list you briefly glanced at online and decided that Sandwich Sundays were now a thing in your household. Then each week had the promise of something new — whether that be a new sandwich, a new flavor profile, a new ingredient, a new beloved recipe, or just a new appreciation for having tried something once and knowing that you’ll never have to eat it again, Sandwich Sundays have given us something to look forward to each of the last forty-six weeks.
This week we landed in Virginia, home of dogwoods and ham. I know these things because it of the underrated Rom-Dramady The American President. When widowed sitting president played by Michael Douglas wanted to woo (yes, “woo”) a lobbyist he was interested in dating (played by Annette Bening), he wanted to send her flowers from her home state. But thinking that the dogwood was a tree, not a flower (it’s a flowering tree, FYI), he sent her a ham instead. It was cute. He got the date.
I would guess, though, that he sent her a Honey Baked-style Ham and not a country ham, which is the specific meat listed for this week’s sandwich. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not merely a Honey-Baked Ham with a down-home accent spouting cute southern idioms like, “he could eat corn through a picket fence,” or “well butter my butt and call me a biscuit.”
Country Ham is a far cry from the ham most of us are familiar with, aka City Ham. Country Ham is dry-cured with a heavy dose of salt and seasonings, smoked, then aged anywhere from 4 months to 3 years. It is much saltier and noticeably chewier than its urban cousin. It’s like if City Ham and Jerky got together and had a kid and named it Country Ham.
According to the expert of all experts, Google, there isn’t a definitive country ham sandwich. However, the two most common ways for people to eat it are between a sliced biscuit as a breakfast sandwich or with white bread and mayo as a lunch sandwich. Thanks to Oregan’s sandwich, we have a pretty incredible recipe for biscuits, so we opted to go the breakfast route with this one.
The country ham we bought wasn’t difficult to prepare. According to the package, all we had to do was heat it in a hot skillet for 45 seconds per side and it was bing, bang, boom done. Easy enough. We did that while the biscuits baked and eggs poached. Even with homemade biscuits in the mix, it all came together in about thirty minutes.
If I had to describe this sandwich in three words it would be “salty” and “chewy” and “salty.” Yes, I realize I used salty twice. I thought about using it for all three adjectives, but thought I’d give the texture a shout-out. I was good after about bites (then I finished the biscuit with the poached egg because that was pretty delicious.)
I wouldn’t say that the Country Ham was bad, but I definitely think it’s an acquired taste. I don’t think I’ve acquired said taste in this one sitting. When it comes to cured pig, I think I’ll stick with bacon.
Tell me I’m wrong.
Have someone else tell me I’m wrong.
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