Country ham is as American as apple pie.
Lady Edison Country Ham.
Tasting country ham is a quintessentially Southern experience. Maybe it’s sizzling in a pan, awaiting a heaping spoonful of red-eye gravy. It could be stacked on a biscuit for breakfast or folded into a bowl of mac and cheese. Or perhaps it’s a translucent slice served on a charcuterie platter, paired with a glass of bubbly wine. Regardless, it’s packed with layers of brothy, salty-sweet flavor and depth, plus a welcome bit of funk.
“Country ham is part of our American heritage,” says Candace Cansler, executive director of the National Country Ham Association. “It’s something that should be embedded in our culture.” The American South has a rich story of country ham, a rare example of a true regional American ingredient with real terroir and history.
Country hams at Goodnight Brothers.
Pork with Pedigree
Until recently, when I thought of fancy cured pork, I thought of jamón serrano and prosciutto di Parma. Then, last year, I tasted Lady Edison Extra-Fancy Country Ham. Sam Suchoff, owner and founder of Lady Edison, says plenty of European food professionals had a similar experience. “At food shows, an Italian or Spanish guy will see us and roll their eyes. They don’t even want to try it,” Suchoff tells me. “Then, they put it in their mouth.” That’s when everything changes. “The flavors are nuanced, intense, and special,” Suchoff describes. To me, the ham tasted of roasted hazelnuts and earth right after a rain—with the luxurious richness of bacon fat.
Suchoff, a Los Angeles native who now calls North Carolina home, opened his Chapel Hill barbecue restaurant, The Pig, in 2010. With a focus on animal welfare and sustainability, The Pig breaks down whole hogs. They turn the bellies into bacon and the shoulders into pulled pork. But what to do with the legs? Suchoff cold-called some of the southern ham greats, including Rufus Brown of Johnston County Hams (which went out of business in 2019) and Sam Edwards, who was the third-generation proprietor of his family ham business, Edwards Virginia Smokehouse, before selling his company in 2021.
Suchoff was inspired by the Spanish world of jamón, but quickly came to understand that the South had its own culinary story to tell. He began to fall in love. Suchoff and Brown struck up an agreement—Brown would cure Suchoff’s hams in his smokehouse. Suchoff notes, “Rufus said, ‘I’m not going to change anything about how I cure ham—this is what I do, if you want it, this is how I do it.’” Pasture-raised Lady Edison hogs, a heritage cross of Berkshire, Chester White, and Duroc, got the traditional, beloved Johnston County Hams treatment.
Country ham was born from necessity, not luxury. America’s first pigs traveled to Florida with Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto in the sixteenth century. Many cuts could be enjoyed immediately after slaughter, but some, like the ham from the hind leg and rump of a pig, could be preserved to last in leaner times. Early Americans borrowed techniques from Europeans and Native Americans to keep meat safe to eat for months or even years. The deep, brawny flavor was a welcome bonus. “The longer hams cure, the saltier and more vibrant the flavor—richer, stronger,” says Cansler.
Slicing and packaging country ham at the Goodnight Brothers’ packing facility.
America’s Ham Belt
“If you take a string and tie it around the world, there is a ham belt,” explains Cansler. The temperate weather of the American South—Kentucky, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia—makes it ideal for dry-curing hog legs, just like in Italy and Spain, which are also famous for their cured pork.
Here’s a little bit of ham terminology: dry curing, without the use of water, contrasts with wet curing, where hams are cured in brine; wet curing only came about in the modern refrigeration era. “City” hams are wet brined, typically smoked, and not significantly aged.
Tony Snow, vice president of sales and marketing at Goodnight Brothers, grew up on a North Carolina farm. “I was surrounded by farmers who slaughtered pigs around Thanksgiving and cured hams and bellies, but I never knew that was something I could make a career out of,” he says. “We’d hang a pig up in the salt house, and Mother Nature would cure the ham for a full year.”
Packages of Goodnight Brothers’ Dan’L Boone Country Ham ready for shipping.
A Ham Renaissance
Goodnight Brothers has been dry-curing ham since 1948. “When I was growing up in North Carolina in the foothills, country ham was a staple when you sat down for breakfast. We’d have eggs, biscuits, bacon, and country ham,” Snow remembers.
Cansler shares that when the National Country Ham Association gathered for their 30th meeting in Lexington County, South Carolina, earlier this year, “We only had eight producers, and we’ve had as many as 30.” For decades, the country ham industry has been hurting. “Because it must be aged for a minimum of 100 days before it’s even considered ready, making ham is a financial burden—it takes a big investment,” Snow explains.
As fat and salt were demonized in health trends, country ham was a casualty. But as cooks, chefs, and diners reconnect with their culinary roots, country ham can find a new place in the southern canon. “As times have changed, people have wanted to know more about where their food comes from,” Snow says. “Creative chefs find new ways to use it.”
In 2004, New York City chef Tom Colicchio tasted Benton’s Smoky Mountain Country Hams from Madisonville, Tennessee, and brought it back to his restaurant. It was a sort of flavor epiphany. Suddenly, New Yorkers had a taste of country ham at Colicchio’s restaurant Craft and, soon after, Momofuku, and they couldn’t get enough. Country ham remains a staple in home kitchens and southern standbys such as Waffle House and Bojangles, but it also gets the royal treatment at restaurants such as & Sons Ham Bar in Brooklyn, Mateo in Durham, North Carolina, and Kato Restaurant in Los Angeles. Creative chefs and skilled makers are breathing new life into a favorite delicacy—it’s a new day for the old favorite that is country ham.
Lady Edison’s new packaging.
Hannah Howard
Hannah Howard is the author of the memoirs "Feast: True Love in and out of the Kitchen" and "Plenty: A Memoir of Food and Family." She writes for The Guardian, Bon Appetit, and Wine Enthusiast and teaches writing classes online. Howard lives in New Jersey with her family and loves stinky cheese. Photo credit: Tiffany Simone.
