Bourbon Glazed Ham

I don’t know anything about bourbon. At all. I don’t like the taste, I don’t like the smell. And I’ve never used it for cooking… until now. As you know yesterday was Easter. I hosted my very first family holiday (New Year’s Eve is what I call a “friends holiday”). For me the traditional Easter food is ham. And boy to I love ham. But I wanted to do something special, something different than the normal honey glaze from the packet that comes with the ham. In a moment of inspiration my husband suggested bourbon. Sure, why not. I don’t even know if we have it in the house but I’ll go get some and look up recipes. I soon found myself standing in the liquor store in the bourbon/whiskey isle with no idea what I was looking at other than price. Which is exactly how I ended up choosing the bottle I did. I was actually a little skittish about the particular bottle I chose because there was no information on the back. No history of the distillery or the “distinct notes of whatever” I was supposed to be able to taste, just a line drawn picture of what I can only assume is supposed to be Thomas Jefferson, but with no information I can’t be sure because it certainly doesn’t look like him. Maybe it was some other Jefferson, possibly the 1^st owner. I’ll have to do some research for you. I decided to take a chance on this unknown bottle of bourbon. It was a mid-range price, about $25 for a 750 mL bottle, which was actually on sale. It had been $30 something. Jefferson Straight Bourbon Wisky (I did spell that right I promise, that’s what’s on the bottle). It turns out my method of choosing Bourbon was pretty awesome.

We decided to try it before cooking with it, following our rule of “try it before you mix it”. It was surprisingly smooth. The only other bourbon I’ve had is Jim Beam and I’ve always felt it tasted like liquefied wood mixed with lighter fluid. Jefferson was not that at all. It had all the heady aroma of bourbon but the alcohol burn lasted only a second before the flavor smoothed out the a pleasingly masculine pallet. It tasted like good cologne smells if that makes any sense.

My recipe came from Jim Beam, I felt a little like a trader because I didn’t use Beam but it worked out. See the recipe here. The only derivation for me was the cooking method. Instead of microwaving the honey and molasses I decided to put the whole thing in a pot on the stove. I mixed up the honey and molasses and let that simmer for a few minutes before adding the orange juice, bourbon, and mustard. I let the whole thing simmer for another minute or two before I took it off the heat and let it rest until the ham was ready for it. The only changes I think I would make is next time I don’t think I’ll buy a pre-sliced ham. I felt that the edges got a little dry because the ham was not sealed together and the heat could get to the edges of the meat.  I know this will involve a little more work on the back end but I’m ok with that. Plus I’ll be able to decide the size of the slices when I cut it myself.

The flavor of the meat after glazing was slightly sweet and slightly tangy with the molasses and honey being toned down a bit by the bourbon, orange juice, and mustard. The smokey flavor of the ham also paired really well with the rich flavor of the bourbon. I will say the OJ was a surprise. I didn’t think about how well the acid of the OJ would work with the ham. Usually people put pineapples but I think I’m going with orange for that high acid note on ham from now on. My only complaint, if you can call it one, I’d like the glaze a little thicker. I might cut down on the orange and cook the mix a little longer to make it a little more syrupy.

I would like to note that it’s probably not the best idea to test new recipes or new ingredients on family dinners. It is a little cruel to use your family as test subjects for all your culinary adventures but sometimes it works out for the best. This time I was lucky both my 1^st time recipes worked out. Come back Friday for more information about the 2^nd 1^st of Easter, chocolate cheesecake, otherwise known as decadence on a plate.