Thursday, December 24, 2016.
Caroling And Glazing A Ham
I'm always in the radio studio on Christmas Eve, ever since I attempted to do the show from home about twenty years ago. My Christmas Eve show features callers singing duets of Christmas carols with me in exchange for cookbooks. People have more fun doing that than one might imagine. But the gizmo that connects my home office with the radio station injects a second or so of delay, and there's nothing I can do about it. That makes singing together impossible, and forces me to be physically there. But everyone concerned--including me--likes the whole idea. Someday, someone will wax nostalgic about it.
I am gone from the station the moment the show ends. I have two projects at home: the root beer ham glaze, and a cheesecake. Neither of them is difficult, but they do require a lot of time. Blending the cheesecake filling takes at least an hour, and allowing the cheesecake to cool slowly (so as to avoid cracks forming on the top) takes hours. I always wind up having to wake up every hour or so to advance the process another step. The cheesecake finally enters the refrigerator at three in the morning.
I try a few new alterations to the root beer glaze. I saw a three-quarters-full two-liter bottle of Barq's from who knows when (although the effervescence was still fresh). I use all of it (about five times as much as in the past) to simmer a week's worth of orange rinds, cloves, and a couple of cinnamon sticks. After an hour, I strain the stuff and add the various other ingredients. The offbeat item is fig and ginger jam, which the Marys gave me last Christmas as a stocking-stuffer. I didn't like the jam on toast, but I thought it would be interesting in the glaze. Drawback: after I empty this jar, where will I ever find more fig and ginger jam?
The glaze was much thicker than usual, and I liked the flavor. I strained it into a jar and set it aside for use tomorrow morning.
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Friday, December 25, 2015.
Christmas In Metairie.
I'm awake at six-thirty. I cross-hatch slits all over the big, boneless, slow-cured smoked Chisesi ham--about a twelve-pounder. Then I slather my glaze all over it, followed by as much brown sugar (with a tablespoon of dry mustard) as will stay in place. The ham bakes at 350 degrees until a quarter to ten, when Mary Ann and I shut down all the ovens (she is baking vast tubs of mac 'n' cheese). We go to Mass at St. Jane's. My choir performed at four yesterday afternoon without me (I was on the radio). But I sing from the pews with the folk trio assigned to the ten a.m.
[caption id="attachment_19508" align="alignnone" width="400"]
Root-beer-glazed ham.[/caption]
While I was there, the ham kept baking even with the oven off. When I return I stick the meat thermometer into the thing and get 160 degrees: perfect. Mary Ann keeps on going with her mac 'n' cheese and a bunch of roasted vegetables. I make some ten trips to the car with all this. We leave at about noon, with MA worried that we will be late. In fact, we are the first ones to show up at her sister Sylvia's house. As we always are.
I get right to work carving the ham and an enormous turkey. The latter had been roasted by Joe Impastato. (Mary Ann's niece's husband is an Impastato's regular.) Dispatching this bird takes over an hour, and returns a gigantic platter full of white meat. Then, of course, people start coming over to my cutting board and ask for dark.
The annual controversy over cranberry jelly wells up. We go over the twin curiosities: how to get the stuff out of the can (remove the top, then punch a hole in the bottom), and isn't it funny how the jelly retains the shape of the inside of the can? I mention that this cranberry must always be here, because a) I like it, and I have been doing a lot of work; and 2) Sylvia's late husband Lloyd also liked cranberry jelly.
When I joined MA's family, there were lots of kids running around at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then they all grew up. Two of those are here today with their own small children. The kids run around the rooms all day and never stop laughing and squealing. So here we are again. Three active generations, and one more remembered very well.
We remain at the party until almost nine o'clock, largely because Mary Ann's brother Tim, his wife Desiree, and daughter Hilary (who will be maid of honor at Mary Leigh's wedding in September) show up at their usual very late hour.
I am very much enjoying the domestic Christmas celebration. And I had hardly anything to drink!
Root-beer-glazed ham.[/caption]
While I was there, the ham kept baking even with the oven off. When I return I stick the meat thermometer into the thing and get 160 degrees: perfect. Mary Ann keeps on going with her mac 'n' cheese and a bunch of roasted vegetables. I make some ten trips to the car with all this. We leave at about noon, with MA worried that we will be late. In fact, we are the first ones to show up at her sister Sylvia's house. As we always are.
I get right to work carving the ham and an enormous turkey. The latter had been roasted by Joe Impastato. (Mary Ann's niece's husband is an Impastato's regular.) Dispatching this bird takes over an hour, and returns a gigantic platter full of white meat. Then, of course, people start coming over to my cutting board and ask for dark.
The annual controversy over cranberry jelly wells up. We go over the twin curiosities: how to get the stuff out of the can (remove the top, then punch a hole in the bottom), and isn't it funny how the jelly retains the shape of the inside of the can? I mention that this cranberry must always be here, because a) I like it, and I have been doing a lot of work; and 2) Sylvia's late husband Lloyd also liked cranberry jelly.
When I joined MA's family, there were lots of kids running around at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then they all grew up. Two of those are here today with their own small children. The kids run around the rooms all day and never stop laughing and squealing. So here we are again. Three active generations, and one more remembered very well.
We remain at the party until almost nine o'clock, largely because Mary Ann's brother Tim, his wife Desiree, and daughter Hilary (who will be maid of honor at Mary Leigh's wedding in September) show up at their usual very late hour.
I am very much enjoying the domestic Christmas celebration. And I had hardly anything to drink!
