Pursuit of Ham

So it's Easter 2019 and all apologies to any of my Jewish brethren, in our family, Easter means just one thing, ham.

Fresh ham.

To the uninitiated, and everyone who though that ham was merely…ham. You couldn’t be more wrong.

Traditional hams are pinkish-hued from the curing process and oblong in shape. Many are spiral-sliced, glazed, pineapple and cherry-topped, square and pink and studded with cloves. They are in their different ways, sweet and salty, smoked, tangy and foil-wrapped.

Ours is not...because my culinary-trained father will brook none other than the elusive, un-popular, un-cured, hard to source fresh ham.

It all starts out so easy… Remembering, last years’ ham quest that saw me in full panic-mode feverishly propositioning a meat manager at Publix on Good Friday, as in, “If your 4:30 customer doesn’t come in for the ham, where’s the harm in selling it to me!” “Okay, what about half, can you sell me just half the ham?!” this year I ordered ahead. Three weeks ahead to be exact.

This year there would be no back alley deals where I, clothed in trench coat and sunglasses, a fedora with my blonde hair peeking out the sides perched on my head, and a $50 dollar bill ‘palmed’ in my right hand, spy a burly guy with 9:00 p.m. stubble, a white butcher’s coat, hairnet, steel-toed shoes and Ray-bans and nod twice giving the ‘sign’.

“You got the stuff?” I say…

“You got the cash?” burly butcher says…

I slide the $50 into his mesh-gloved palm, anxiously looking from side to side, while he kicks a lumpy white paper parcel at my feet, saying, “Nobody but nobody hears about this, right?”

“Last thing I need is those goons over at Winn Dixie, or Walmart finding out about this!”

“Last year I was nearly blackballed when some newb over at The Fresh Market began peddling un-cured bacon and sausage out behind Whole Foods!”

I nod nervously, grab my contraband pork and disappear into the night.

Surely this year would be different...

The first warning came when I realized it was the Sunday before Easter and I had received no reassuring call from Publix assuring me that my fresh plastic wrapped blade end ham was sitting waiting for me in the walk-in. This year I would leave nothing to chance. I took evasive action and drove to my neighborhood Publix made my way to the meat counter, where I encounter, Ileana who is rapidly filling in pre-packaged chicken nuggets. I approach her,

"Can I ask you a quick question?"

 "Si...ummm Yes?"

"Are the fresh hams in yet?"

"Si...ummm yes", Ileana indicates the case where row upon row of spiral-sliced hams in their glittery, gold packages sit waiting for purchase.

"No, those are cured hams, I ordered a fresh ham" I comment making my tone as even-tempered and rational as I didn't feel.

"You order ham?" Ileana looks at me quizzically.

"Yes, I ordered a ham two (2) weeks ago."I say fighting for calm, panic rising in me.

"Okay, they call you."

"They'll call me, so they haven't come in yet?" I say, feeling reassured, okay, they just weren't in yet.

"Okay, si...ummm yes they call!" Ileana says.

"Look, do you just want to take my name down again?...."

"Okay, si...ummm yes they call you!"

Ileana moves further away from the nutty blonde who is looking bewilderingly at her...and as I finally turn and walk away, she's still saying,

"Si, okay...they call you!"

They're not going to call me; I know that as surely as I know that the dinosaur shaped nuggets she's stacking in the case have rarely made contact with a chicken.

Me, being me, I maintain my optimism. Over the next few days, I keep my cell phone at arms' length at my desk, and every time it lights up, I just know it's going to be the Publix meat department with news of my porcine parcel.

By Wednesday evening, I am in despair..no ham, forget that...no hope of ham. I call my Dad,

"Dad, I don't know if I can get the ham in time for Easter"

"What...no ham?"

"I ordered from Publix like three (3) weeks ago and they never called!" (I actually know this feeling well, it's like waiting for a guy to call after a date you are sure went great and you never get the call)
I relate the story to him of Ileana and the fact that she was certain they'd call, and my Dad explodes like Vesuvius,

"Stupid Publix, I will never, ever, ever buy a piece of meat from them again!" "They can rot before I step foot in their stores again!"

"Okay, I'm on this!" he says and with that hangs up.

Which is exactly what I knew would happen, newly semi-retired and ever spoiling for a fight, my Dad begins his own ham-quest. There is nothing my dad loves more then stepping into the fray culinarily. When he used to cater, bakers, meat managers and produce stand owners alike, stood up a little straighter and made way when my father stopped in sourcing his goods.

A little while later, I get a phone call from my Dad,

"Okay, I called every grocery store in two counties ( I refrain from asking if Publix was in that number) but I think I got a couple of leads, guy at Whole Foods says they just got a shipment of fresh hams, not only that but blade end!,"  he says jubilantly. "They'll have one for you tomorrow afternoon!", making it the Thursday before Easter. Tricky, very tricky.

So, on Thursday afternoon, I confidentially stride up to the meat counter at the Whole Foods where I meet up with Reuben and say,

"My dad called ahead and was told you guys would have fresh hams today!"

Reuben says, "Yes ma'am, we surely do!" and takes me to a case filled with golden glittery wrapped spiral smoked hams. Argghhh!

"I'm sorry but these aren't fresh hams" I say, a tear welling up in my left eye.

"We just got them in today!" Reuben asserts.

"Yes, but I wanted an un-cured, fresh ham, blade end if possible" I sniffle.

"You mean you want a raw ham?" Reuben stares at me as if I had just asked for a bald eagle to be shot and dressed on a silver platter.

"Yes, exactly a RAW ham, un-cooked in any way, un-cured, un-smoked. RAW!" I shout, flailing my hands for emphasis. Several customers turn around and look over at me with naked curiosity. Who's the crazy-eyed blonde losing it in the meat department?

"Listen, I gotta check with Chuck the meat manager about this", Reuben says sotto voce, as if I was trying to buy black market arms. "Maybe we have something in the back..."

We approach Chuck who, in the attempt to sell two little old ladies some steaks, is giving them an entire anatomy lesson on how the steaks came to be, how they were cut and from which part of the animal, and they are listening with rapt attention, because Chuck basically is classically handsome and has just the kind of face little old ladies love. I hate him on sight, because he stands between me and the ham. When we get to Chuck, he has just got to the part where 'when the male steer and the female steer really love one another...' and Reuben whispers in his ear, 'umm this lady is looking for a fresh ham'... Chuck cocks an eyebrow and aims a look of distaste at me because I have the gall to interrupt his meat lecture and says condescendingly, "When I'm finished with these customers, I'll have a look in the back". The little old ladies look at me bitchily as if to say, "beat it blondie, he's ours", and something in me just snaps.

I'm sick of Reuben, Chuck, the little old ladies, the patchouli laden, hippy, compounding pharmacy smell of Whole Foods and the weird screamy music playing on the Muzak in the store.

"Never mind!" I say airily as I march back through the over-priced produce section and out the front door. I sit in my car for a few moments trying to put things in perspective. I tell myself this is a 1st World problem, remembering how my actor teacher Lauren always reminds us how so many people in the world have it worse. It doesn't help though, I think, "I know I'm past the age where I expect the Easter Bunny to leave a candy-laden basket with a chocolate bunny on top, all I wanted was to make a nice fresh ham dinner!"

I call my Dad and relay my failure to source a ham at Whole Foods, and he responds typically,

"I've always hated Whole Foods, damned over-priced produce, I like the wraps at Fresh Market much better!"

"Okay, I've got one more source, there's a guy over at "Marshall's Meats" and they say they've got 'em, fresh hams , butt-end AND blade-end, cut to order", okay it's Good Friday and it's cutting it close, but if you get there early..."

So on Good Friday, I rise early, I dress quickly, I'm at the store ten minutes before it opens and though there are elegant foodstuffs, there is foie gras, there is caviar, there are standing roasts and crown roasts and delicate fileted Cornish Game hens, I only have eyes for the fresh ham which sits tantalizingly in the case, there isn't a gold sparkly package in sight!  The butcher spies me, it's easy to do, I'm the only one staring at the meat case with tears in my eyes.

"Can I help you?" he says, perhaps a fresh ham?" I nod, the search over and the quest complete, I leave the store with the ham tucked neatly under my arm. I think I'm in love with that butcher, although I'm not entirely sure what he looked like...

Surely next year will be easier...