I figure there is a fighting chance that people will read this post before the big holiday meal, and I have some critical information for those of you who will be enjoying a HoneyBaked® ham.
It’s so important that I’m going to put it before the jump. I never do that. I always make you click to read more and then wade through some kind of relevant anecdote before I give you the one little nugget of information you want.
So here it is, direct from the official serving instructions of the producer:
HEATING MAY CAUSE THE HAM TO DRY OUT AND LOSE FLAVOR.
The caps and the bold face are mine, but really this statement needs to be much more strongly emphasized on the packaging instructions.
As far as industrially produced meat products go, you could do worse than choosing a HoneyBaked® ham.
I count myself a fan from my very first experience with the product in Raf’s Miami kitchen, wolfing down leftovers with my fingers while standing in front of the open refrigerator. If he hadn’t laid down the guilt about his family’s plan to eat that remaining ham for another meal, surely I would not have stopped until it was gone. This was back in my high school days, when I did some serious eating.
The downside to the ham is that whatever the company does to make it superdelicious also makes it very fragile.
To heat it is to ruin it, inside and out. The meat dries out and loses its salinity. It needs the saltiness to balance the sweetness of the glaze. And the mysteriously crunchy and impossible glaze melts away like a day-old ice sculpture.
How do I know this?
I have had far too many ruined HoneyBaked® hams.
The problem is that people either don’t read the instructions, or pay them no heed. They foolishly prioritize their desire for a warm ham over the tasty intersection of agriculture and technology purchased for the occasion.
The other problem is that as a guest in someone’s house, I have never been able to find a polite way of stopping them from ruining their ham.
Them: “How long do you think this ham should go in the oven?”
Fussy: “I’m pretty sure it’s just supposed to be served room temperature.”
Them: “No, no, no. We always warm it up.”
Fussy: “You don’t happen to have the instructions from the store?”
Them: “I don’t need the instructions, I’m sure it will be fine.”
Short of jumping in front of the oven to block their path, I have found that a determined ham-ruiner cannot be stopped.
At least now if you end up in some similar bind, you can always break out your trusty mobile internet device, and refer your host to this post for the proper care and feeding of that delicious smoked, spiral-sliced and miraculously glazed joint of meat.
You are welcome. And just in case you don’t check in tomorrow, Merry Christmas.
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