My dad grew up in West Virginia, and is a true lover of good 'ol Southern food. Biscuits and gravy, slow-smoked ribs, fried chicken, creamy potato salad, braised greens, key lime pie, and country ham with red-eye gravy. Now, I've been hearing about country ham for a good long while, but having grown up in Texas, which isn't really the South (but definitely shares many qualities), I had actually never tasted it.

Country hams have a long history in the South. These traditional American hams are salt-cured, usually in a salt brine, which dries them out and preserves them (this is how succulent pig legs were preserved prior to refrigeration). They are then typically smoked, although there are very delicious examples of unsmoked country ham. From what I can tell, the best seem to come from Virginia or North Carollna. In fact, you might have heard of Virginia ham or Smithfield ham, which are both examples of country hams from Virginia. Smithfield hams seem to be the most highly revered, and are aged longer than other country hams. Apparently they are also more deeply flavored and saltier. Each region seems to have their own particular style.

So, this past weekend, for my dad's 70th birthday, we decided to not only fly up to Portland and surprise him, but also give him a true-blue (well, it wasn't really blue) country ham. In fact, we even went one step further, and threw him a birthday party where he, and the ham, were the guests of honor.

But getting the ham did take some planning. First, you need to find a reputable place that sells real, exceptional country hams. I had read an article about Calhoun's Country Hams in Saveur, and so I thought, not really knowing where else to turn, to give them a call. I was greeted on the phone with true down-home Southern hospitality. They answered all my questions, and I figured out what I wanted: a 15-lb (the smallest available) uncooked bone-in country ham, which takes about 7-10 business days to ship. Because the hams are salt-cured, you do not have to refrigerate them, as long as you keep them in a cool place (like my brother's basement, next to his Kegerator) and make sure they stay nice and dry.

We served my dad's ham as part of a huge Southern birthday feast, complete with buttermilk biscuits, hush puppies, scalloped leeks and potatoes, roasted asparagus, and sauteed collard greens with apple cider vinegar. To top it all off, we ended with a tall citrus cake. My dad was in heaven. And frankly, after tasting the ham, so was I.

How to Make Yourself a Real Good Country Ham

Cooking a country ham is easy, but takes some time. The first thing you need to do is to scrub the ham clean with a vegetable scrub brush and some warm water, it's best to do this in the sink. I recommend trying this prior to drinking. Although that did make for some interesting fun. There will likely be bits of mold here and there, but that's normal and nothing to worry about.

Next, find a big container. I find that a cooler works best. You want something large enough to submerge the entire ham. Lie the ham in the container and fully submerge it in cold water. The reason for doing this is to suck some of that salt out. Like I said above, these hams are salt-cured and very salty. And if you aren't used to it, like me, then it's best to soak your ham. Soak the ham for about 24 to 48 hours. Yep, you heard me right. And change the water as often as you can, maybe every 4 to 8 hours or so. There's no sense soaking it in salt water if you are trying to remove some of the salt.

Once your ham is clean and soaked, remove it from the water, and put it in the largest stockpot or deep roasting pan you can find. Again, you want to submerge it. The largest pot we had was actually a canning pot and still the top of the bone stuck out, but that's fine, as long as the bulk of the ham is under water.

Fill the pot with enough water to cover the ham, cover the pot loosely with foil, and set it on the stovetop. Bring the water to a slow rolling boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to maintain the slow boil. Boil the ham for about 3 hours or so. You want it to come to about 140°F at the thickest part of the ham.

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Remove the ham from the pot and set in a large roasting pan or a rimmed baking sheet (you can double this up to make sure it's nice and sturdy). Use a sharp knife to trim as much fat from the ham as possible. There will likely be quite a bit.

In a bowl, stir together about 1/3 cup brown sugar with about 1 tablespoon grainy mustard until it's like a paste. Slather it all over the ham. With your hands. Don't be afraid. Bake the ham for about 15 minutes until the paste glazes the ham and it looks all bubbly and delicious.

Carve the ham using a very sharp knife, cutting the ham into the thinnest slices you can.

Calhoun's Country Hams
219 South East Street
Culpeper, VA 22701
Toll-free 1-877-825-8319

I flew to North Carolina last week for my grandmother's funeral. She was 87 and she couldn't do anything for herself by the time she died. A woman named Tonya would come by the house every day, and later the nursing home, and feed her and bathe her and turn on Andy Griffith for her to watch. Tonya was with her when she died, and the day before that when my grandmother had said, "Hold me," it was Tonya who pulled down the bed rails and put her solid bronze arms around my grandmother's soft, fleshy ones.

When I stepped off the plane in Raleigh, the air was hot and thick and I wished I'd changed out of my jeans before I left the airport. My brother picked me up, along with my mother and my sister, and when I got into his truck they started telling me about all the food people had brought over.

"You would not believe how much food we have back at the house," my mom began, shaking her head so that her graying hair bounced against her forehead. "Fried chicken, pecan pie," -- she pronouces it PEE-can -- "chess pie, potato salad, cole slaw. We have enough to feed an army."

My sister took up the litany, counting the dishes off on her fingers. "Barbecued chicken. Deviled eggs. Chocolate cake." Even in the darkened car, I could see her eyes sparkle, but not with tears. Eating feels good, even when everything else feels bad.

We spent much of the ride home talking about what they'd eaten the night before, and which neighbor or church friend or circle member had brought what dish. When we got home, everyone peeled off to bed but me and mom. We cut into a chocolate sheet cake made from Duncan Hines mix and store bought frosting. I ate a square of it standing up in my grandparents' red kitchen, and then cut off another small sliver just to even things out. It was fluffy and fresh and delicious. It reminded me of birthday party cake from when I was a kid.

I read over a piece of paper on the kitchen table that listed all the food that had been dropped off and by whom. The funeral house prints these forms up and brings them to the deceased's house, along with a podium with a light attached to it and a book that sits on top of it for visitors to sign.

The next morning, I woke up and took a shower. I put on a dress I'd bought with money my grandmother sent me for my birthday, and shoes I'd bought the previous summer for my grandfather's funeral. We drove to the cemetary and sat down on chairs covered in scratchy crushed blue velvet. My grandparents' ashes had been comingled -- that is the official term for mixing them together -- and they were held in a wooden box engraved with intertwining hearts and the words "Together Forever." They were both blessed and later buried in that hot, muggy air, and even as I cried, I couldn't help but notice that the preacher used a word I'd never heard before -- undergird. In the car on the way home I asked my brother and sister if anyone had ever heard it before. No one had.

Back home, my cousins immediately set about heating up the food. Most of us crowded into the kitchen; some of us were hungry, some tried to help, but I think most of us just didn't know what else to do. My cousin Sheila hadn't been able to sleep the night after my grandmother died, so she got up at 4:30 in the morning and baked a pound cake.

When we finally sat down to eat, we had three kinds of chicken (roasted, barbecued, and fried), deviled eggs, sandwiches, baked ham, yeast rolls, ham rolls, three kinds of potato salad, cole slaw, corn pudding, rice pilaf, broccoli casserole, asparagus casserole topped with Pringles (I kid you not), lasagna, baked beans, bread-and-butter pickles, and chicken salad. We all sat around in the living room with plates on our knees, sipping sweet tea, catching up with people we hadn't talked to in a year, complaining about the heat and humidity.

There were just as many desserts as anything else. Lemon chess pie, pecan pie, chocolate cake, the most marvelous chocolate fudge pie (it's basically gooey, nearly-cooked brownie batter in a flaky pie shell), pound cake, banana pudding. What we didn't eat, we wrapped back up and put out again for dinner that night, after the memorial service at the church, after I stood in the receiving line and met all the people who had fed us.

Grandma's Fried Chicken
Serves 4

Ingredients:
1 whole chicken, cut into legs, thighs, breasts, and wings
buttermilk (optional)
flour
salt and pepper to taste
Crisco

Method:
In my grandmother's words: "I'm not the fryer in the family," she started out by saying. "That's Margaret [her sister]. But I've fried a lot of chicken. What you want to do is salt and pepper and flour the chicken. Teri [her cousin] says you should soak it in milk before you flour it. He brought us some fried chicken one time and it was mighty good, but I don't know. Then you want to cook it in hot grease. You can use Crisco or you can use the liquid, it doesn't matter. We always used Crisco. But anyway, you want to cook it in enough hot grease to cover the chicken.

"Daddy called himself the Master Fryer, and Mother always said, 'I guess you are. All you do is stand there and fry it and I have to do all the rest of it and all the cleaning up.' We had fried chicken every Sunday morning for breakfast with biscuits.

"But anyway. The smaller the chicken the better. It's done when you can stick a fork in easily and no blood appears. Maybe 20 minutes, but watch it. Then just put it on a paper towel to drain."

Additional instructions:
All measurements are approximate because you really only need enough to suit you. Cover the chicken in buttermilk for a few hours, up to overnight. Pat it good and dry, then salt and pepper it to taste and dredge in flour, shaking off the excess. Or, you can toss the flour in a paper bag, season it to your liking (cayenne adds a nice touch) and then toss the chicken parts in one by one.

Heat the Crisco about halfway up a cast iron skillet until it's melted and a small piece of bread bubbles and fries on contact. Then add the pieces, one or two at a time to prevent the oil from cooling down. Turn them after about 5-8 minutes, depending on size and type of meat; keep in mind dark meat needs longer to cook than white meat. Drain on a plate covered with paper towels and serve hot. Also good cold the next day.