Apricot-Glazed Ham

I met with the editor from Lowcountry Press on Monday. Her name is Catherine Wells. She is fifty-three, a Southern woman, a reader, a cook. She read the manuscript and she saw what I see: that the book is not a cookbook. It is a memorial. It is a love letter. It is a daughter's voice saying: my mother was here, and she cooked, and the cooking was the love, and the love is the book, and the book is the thing that will remain when the cook is gone.

Catherine said, "I want to publish this." She said it at a table in a Charleston restaurant while I drank water and tried not to cry and failed. She said, "The advance will be modest. The book will be beautiful. And the people who read it will recognize their own mothers in every page." The recognition was the pitch. The pitch was the truth. And the truth was the deal.

I told Robert that evening. I told him in the kitchen — where else? — standing at the counter, holding a glass of wine, and I said, "A publisher wants the cookbook." Robert set down the newspaper. He looked at me. He said, "Naomi." Just my name. The way Mama says my name when she recognizes me. My name, spoken by the man who built the desk where the book was written, and the name was the celebration.

I called Carrie in Fukuoka at midnight her time. She screamed. The scream was the review. I called James in Columbia at nine PM. He said, "Mom, that's incredible." The incredible was the assessment. And the assessments were complete: Robert said my name, Carrie screamed, James said incredible. Three people. Three responses. Three loves.

I told Mama on Wednesday. I said, "Mama, someone is going to publish a book about your recipes." Mama looked at me and said nothing. Then she hummed. And the humming was "It Is Well With My Soul." And the humming was the approval. And the approval was the hymn. And the hymn was the book.

When Catherine said she wanted to publish the book, and Robert said my name, and Carrie screamed, and James said incredible, and Mama hummed “It Is Well With My Soul” — I kept coming back to the ham. Mama’s apricot-glazed ham, the one that sat at the center of every Sunday table and every holiday and every ordinary Tuesday that she decided to make extraordinary. If the book is a memorial, this ham is its first chapter — the recipe that taught me a glaze could hold a whole family together.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 2 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 45 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

1 fully cooked bone-in ham (7 to 8 pounds)
1 cup apricot preserves
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Whole cloves for studding (optional)

Instructions

Prepare the ham. Preheat oven to 325°F. Place ham on a rack in a shallow roasting pan. If desired, score the surface in a diamond pattern with shallow cuts and stud intersections with whole cloves. Cover loosely with aluminum foil.
Bake. Bake the ham for 1 hour and 45 minutes, allowing roughly 15 minutes per pound.
Make the glaze. While the ham bakes, combine the apricot preserves, Dijon mustard, brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, ground cloves, and cinnamon in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir until smooth and warmed through, about 3 to 4 minutes.
Glaze the ham. Remove the foil and brush the ham generously with about half of the glaze. Return to the oven uncovered and bake for 30 minutes.
Glaze again and finish. Brush with the remaining glaze and bake an additional 15 minutes, until the surface is golden and caramelized and the internal temperature reaches 140°F.
Rest and serve. Let the ham rest for 15 minutes before carving. Spoon any pan drippings over sliced portions.

Nutrition (per serving)

Apricot-Glazed Ham — The Recipe That Was Always on Mama’s Table