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Life without ham is unthinkable
Around the table
ham
Ham can be the centerpiece of many style meals. - photo by Stock photo

Can you imagine life without ham? Me either. There would be no ham and eggs, just eggs. There’d be no country ham biscuits, just biscuits.
Ham is such a versatile meat. It’s perfect as an entrée or used to season soups or veggies, especially greens and beans. I have to laugh, though, when I see how ham is sometimes promoted.
I’ve seen restaurant menus that advertise two types of breakfast hams — country ham and city ham. Really? I’ve driven through and actually lived in a few large cities and never once recalled seeing a hog farm. Well, I admit I have been downwind of some alleyways that suggested a hog farm was nearby.
So-called city ham is probably cured with salt, sugar and other spices that do wonders for my health. City ham is not smoked, which is why I prefer country ham. If you’re going to raise my triglycerides, you may as well fill me up with carcinogens, too.
I love a country-ham biscuit. I think Hardee’s was the first chain restaurant to offer this delicacy, but Southern diners and hunters’ cafes were stuffing slices of country ham into fresh-baked biscuits back when I was a kid (and that was a long time ago). A ham biscuit was about all Daddy gave us time to grab for breakfast when we stopped en route to an area he’d signed out for hunting at the Marine Corps base.
Black coffee was all he wanted, but my brother and I needed something to stick to our ribs. A greasy ham biscuit was just what the doctor ordered. After eating a ham biscuit and sipping down a Styrofoam cup of coffee with a copious amounts of cream and sugar, I could sit in my deer stand all day.
Quite often, it was all day, since Daddy didn’t seem to have a need for lunch, either. We tended to stay in the woods until he was ready to go home, which usually was around dark. My growling stomach would have scared away all the game had I not had that ham biscuit.
In addition to Hardee’s, when I’m on the road in the mornings, I like to stop by Bojangles for a ham biscuit. When I’m in the Tarheel State, I can visit a Biscuit Kitchen or Biscuitville for extra-large ham biscuits. Biscuitville gives growing boys like me the option of ordering double meat, which means twice as much country ham on a biscuit that is already larger than other breakfast biscuits.
When I was in the Army, I sometimes went home after morning PT. I’d stop off at the Biscuit Kitchen in Spring Lake before returning to Fort Bragg. They offered a made-from-scratch, whole-wheat biscuit stuffed with country ham. It was sort of dichotomy, I know, but I thought of it as a healthy way to eat unhealthy.
I don’t get to enjoy ham biscuits as often as I’d like. For that matter, I only get to eat a spiral ham on Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. I guess it’s written somewhere in the fine print on my marriage license. Someone is always making sure I don’t get to eat the fatty foods I prefer.
Oh sure, I still slip in a ham-and-cheese sandwich once in a while. I don’t mind a little prosciutto on my pizza. And if I order an omelet, it has to include ham (and bacon, sausage, onions, green peppers, jalapenos, tomatoes and cheddar cheese).
I might live a week or two longer if there was no more ham in this world, but why would I want to?

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Tomatoes are terrific summertime treats
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tomato
Tomatoes are even good eaten raw, right after picking and a wash. - photo by Stock photo

Every day, twice a day I check my garden to see if I have any “maters” ripe and ready for picking. In less sophisticated parts of the country, this veggie-fruit is called a tomato, but I live in Georgia, so I call them maters.
I don’t even want to think about what Italian or Mexican cuisine would be like without maters, so I’ll just focus on how delicious they are fresh off the vine. I love a fresh sliced, homegrown mater with some fresh sliced, homegrown cukes.
That’s what folks in North Carolina call cucumbers. I lived there long enough to pick up some Tarheel lingo. Cukes are not to be confused with kooks, which can be contagious during political seasons.
Mater and cuke slices deserve a sprinkling of sea salt and cracked black pepper before eating by themselves or as a side dish with any Southern meal. They add character to everything. I especially like mine with fried chicken or pork barbecue.
Sometimes I’ll eat a mater, cuke and Vidalia onion salad with just a drizzle of ranch dressing. Salt and pepper too, of course. I first discovered this salad at K&W Cafeteria, a family restaurant chain based in Greensboro, North Carolina. They left out the Vidalias, though. I first found Vidalias included with maters and cukes on a salad bar in Georgia.
Fresh mater slices are pretty much mandatory on most sandwiches. A summer picnic with grilled hamburgers wouldn’t be the same without a large slice of beefeater mater. In fact, some of us enjoy a plain mater sandwich. Just add a little mayo, salt and pepper.
When I ate mater sandwiches as a kid, I figured we didn’t have any burgers, ham or bologna to put on our sandwiches. I quickly learned to love them and didn’t care if I had anything else to go with the mater slices.
Bacon? Well, that’s different. Bacon and maters were made for each other (with mayo, salt and pepper). You really don’t need lettuce, which has no nutritional value anyway. If you want a healthy BLT (if that’s possible), use spinach leaves in place of lettuce. If you’re really hungry, add a -pound grilled Angus beef patty with cheddar cheese (then throw away any notion of eating healthy). Rest assured a homegrown mater will blend its sweet-acidic flavors with these add-ons.
There are a variety of maters for the backyard gardener. This year I planted heirlooms and Burpee’s Big Boy hybrids as well as some cherry and grape maters. I also planted a yellow variety called Lemon Boy, which have a different but wonderful flavor. According to Prevention.com, red maters are slightly better for you than the yellow ones, mostly due to the extra Vitamin A and C. I like the yellow ones anyway.
I can’t tell the difference between cherry and grape maters, except that one tends to be a bit oblong. I prefer them to plum maters in a salad because plum maters are too big to eat whole. I’m not the only person to ever bite down on a plum mater, sending mater guts streaming across the table. I like roma maters though, which are really plum maters, only bigger. You have to slice them to eat them, which can save you an embarrassing moment.
In ancient times, folks thought maters were poisonous, maybe because the leaves of some varieties are poisonous. According to several online sources, maters originated in Central and South America and were taken into western North America and Europe by Spanish explorers. English explorers who first settled North Carolina’s coast brought with them a fear of maters that was prompted by the poison myth.
According to North Carolina’s barbecue history buff Bob Garner, drinks made with mater juice were consumed from a common drinking vessel at the time, the pewter mug. In those days, pewter mugs contained lead. The acid from the mater juice tended to leach lead from the mugs, which caused revelers to act like kooks (not cukes). This led folks to believe maters were poisonous. It was so strongly believed that eastern North Carolina barbecue sauce developed without maters, just a peppery vinegar.
I do like my maters, but I’m sort of glad they left them out of the eastern North Carolina barbecue sauce I also love. When I make summer visits to Wilbur’s BBQ in Goldsboro, I make sure I get a plate of homegrown, local maters to go with their delicious pork barbecue. The maters add character to their already-perfect barbecue.

Email Murray at rmurray@coastalcourier.com.

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