Carving a ham is oddly satisfying. It’s like unwrapping a present, except the present is salty, smoky, and smells like childhood holidays. Slice it against the grain—just think of it as cutting in the opposite direction of the muscle fibers. If you cut with the grain, you’ll get chewy, stringy pieces that feel like dental punishment.
And here’s a pro tip: keep the bone. That bone is gold. Freeze it, and later toss it into a pot of beans or soup. It’s the gift that keeps on giving, like that one friend who always brings the good potato salad. You’ll thank yourself in a month when you’re sipping ham-and-bean broth on a rainy Tuesday.
The Leftover Miracle
Leftover ham is a miracle of modern inconvenience—it just keeps showing up. But embrace it. Slice it thin for sandwiches, dice it into omelets, or shock your neighbors by making ham fried rice. One year, I made a ham-and-cheese casserole that my uncle called “heart-attack lasagna,” and it was the greatest compliment of my life.
You can even freeze the leftovers in portions. Just wrap them tight in plastic wrap, then foil, then maybe a prayer that you’ll remember to eat them. Future you will be grateful. Present you will be full, slightly smug, and ready for a nap.
So go ahead, warm up that ham, slather it in something sweet, and bask in the glow of a meal that’s 90% already done. You’ve earned this. Now go slice yourself a piece of victory.
