Friday, December 28th, 2007. The day that altered my life forever.
Picture this. A chilly day spent on my grandmother’s ranch in Oklahoma. After a fairly uneventful drive from Oklahoma City, we arrive with gifts in tow. Why, here we are, relaxing on (read: breaking) my grandma’s Lazy Boy.
Christmas at my grandmother’s home is a very relaxed affair. A down home meal, homemade pies, sweetened tea and some football. Usually, I end up sitting on the above chair for most of the 5-hour visit.
Except for this particular day- I heard my father and grandmother talking about some fantastic, life-altering ham and how he just HAD to have one to take back to the city. Some shuffling and jingling of keys ensued, and before I knew it, my dad was heading out the door.
Normally, this wouldn’t have phased me- I mean, it takes a lot to get my ass out of that fine leather chair, but for some reason, I found myself yelling, “Dad! I wanna go! Hold up!” He inquired incredulously, “You want to go pick up a HAM with me?”
“YesIwannagosomeonewatchmybabyokayfinebah”
Thus began our adventure to secure The Miracle Ham. Through two small towns and a very desolate 2-lane highway, the entire time listening to my father boast about a damn ham. “It isn’t injected with ANYTHING! Such smoky flavor! Hung to dry! Natural! The best flavor you’ve ever tasted!”
Luckily, I had his new iPhone to play with, thus counterbalancing the ham sermon. However, I was very careful to interject a well-placed “uh-huh…you don’t say…mmm, smoky” along the way.
I guess, in my mind, I assumed we were heading to a retail operation, such as a Honeybaked Ham store (although, YOU HAVE NOTHING ON THE MIRACLE HAM, FOOLS!) Little did I know that we were going to spend some quality time here:
The iPhone came in quite handy, you see.
I looked at my father and asked, “Is this, like, a meat production plant-type establishment?”
To which he replied, “I do reckon, little lady, now git over yonder!”
(My extremely suave and well-spoken father hasn’t lived in a small town since 1967, yet transforms into Smiley Burnette within a 20-mile radius of his old stomping grounds.)
We walked up to the door, me skittishly standing in my father’s new-found cowboy shadow, and what I saw next was marvelous.
A smoky office about the size of an elevator with what looked to be a 113-year-old woman sitting at a desk, smoking some Kool Menthols. Across the cluttered desk sat her grandson and great-grandkids, looking at us as if we were just transported from Mars.
Keep in mind, the Miracle Ham Establishment isn’t even located in a town. It is in the middle of nowhere, and I’m guessing the owner/operators of the MHE do not have daily run-ins with people donning winter white peacoats and iPhones. It was a little awkward on my part.
However, Smiley was having a ball.
“Well, HOWDY, Miss Jones! It’s me, Ronny! Arlene’s boy! How ya doing? I was hopin’ I could buy one of those deeelicious hams of yours. I’m fixin’ to head out to the big city, and I sure would like a taste!”
*insert overdramatic eye-rolling on my part*
However, my eye-rolling was cut short when I noticed the young great-grandson (10 years old, tops!) eyeing me like I was a juicy ham myself. People, he licked his lips and with great (and unnecessary) fervor.
Let’s see – Smiley Burnette in one corner, Kool Menthol Elder and 10-Year-Old Pervert in the other. Things couldn’t get much more uncomfortable when, all of the sudden, the front door busted open. As I peered through the thick smoke, I saw the silhouette of a Very Large Man yelling, “Give me my hooves! I need my hooves!”
Kool Menthol Elder – “Well, why on earth would you need some hooves?”
Very Large Man – “Because I’m building my GUN RACK! DO YA RECKON?”
10-Year-Old Pervert – *licking lips*
At this point, I was trying to silently delineate if pigs even had hooves, and if not, what kind of hooves did he mean? More importantly, WHY WAS I IN THIS SITUATION IN THE FIRST PLACE.
I quickly decided I was going to turn around and face the wall. Sure, it might look strange, but trust me, it was my best option.
I turned around, expecting a wall, when I realized it was a glass window. A glass window looking into the meat production “area”. Holy hell. May I just use a few words?
Pig. Parts. Blood. Rust. Raw. Machines.
I’ll let you take that for what it’s worth. I looked at my father and mouthed, “Halp.”
Thank God, at this point, a lovely lady (wearing the world’s bloodiest apron and a poorly-bandaged thumb) appeared with our Miracle Ham. Fantastic.
We said our goodbyes and made our way back to car, feeling much dirtier than before we left. (Well, at least on my part. Smiley was singing about billy goats or something.)
We returned to my grandmother’s house just in time for the big meal. And you know what? I ate two slices of The Miracle Ham.
Now, I’m not really a ham person, but that Miracle Ham? It was damn good.
gorillabuns
January 15, 2008 at 5:14 pmokay, maybe i need to go and get me some of this heavenly ham you speak of. i’m sure celia will go for it.
Courtney
January 15, 2008 at 5:26 pmHilarious! What is it about ham that makes people crazy?
Ever since I met my husband, he went on and on about how good his mom’s ham was. For YEARS I heard about this ham.
When I finally got to attend one of their families “ham worthy” occassions, I told her I was so excited to try the famous meat. Her answer? “Oh, it’s nothing special, I just get it at the Honeybaked Ham store!”
Yeah….he doesn’t brag about his mom’s cooking so much anymore!
angela
January 15, 2008 at 6:16 pmWell you worked so hard for it. You definitely deserved to try the Miracle Ham.
hi kooky
January 15, 2008 at 7:58 pmOh Lordy. First of all, you are a beautiful family. Secondly, I live in the midwest and know a lot about recliners, home cookin’, and football for the holidays. But I’ll tell you what. I’ve never (in all my live long days) seen a scene like the one you described from the meat packing plant. I kept worrying that you might have gotten some blood on the white pea coat! I’m glad you didn’t. The Very Large Man wanting hooves would have scared me, I have to admit. Thanks for the fabulously disturbing and entertaining replay!
Michelle in Cincinnati
January 15, 2008 at 8:08 pm1.Whoorl’s vegetarian friend, “Whoorl, do you know what they DO to those pigs?”
2.Whoorl, “No, but it’s DELICIOUS!”
Giselle
January 15, 2008 at 8:18 pmThat was so funny! I would ask you where in Oklahoma I can get said ham since it sounds delish, but I would be way too scared to go there on my own anyway. :)
Kaili
January 15, 2008 at 10:35 pmThat was so hilarious! I loved it! Such a nice family pictures too!
nicole
January 15, 2008 at 10:44 pmGorgeous family … hysterical story!
SAJ
January 16, 2008 at 2:32 amBut the blood and the RUST and THE POORLY BANDAGED THUMB!!!
Man. It must have been good.
glamgranola
January 16, 2008 at 7:40 amWhy did I hear “Dueling Banjos” the entire time I read this??
Jennifer
January 16, 2008 at 9:06 amThat ham musta been damn good for you to have eaten it after what you saw!
andrea
January 16, 2008 at 10:24 amHow can I convince you guys to bring me along next time you head to Oklahoma? I don’t generally eat pork products, but I’d even be willing to try the miracle ham; as long as I don’t have to look through the window.
Can’t wait for more stories from home.
slynnro
January 16, 2008 at 10:31 amWhen I was in elementary school (in a small town, of 1200 people, 47 in my graduating class), I believe 2nd grade, some genius thought it would be a great idea to take a field trip to the freaking meat processing plant. No, really!
We actually got to see pigs killed, and freshly killed pigs lowered into vats of boiling water (to remove the hair) and have their blood removed, and well, all the other steps in the process.
And at the end of the tour? They gave us some to sample.
Carrie
January 16, 2008 at 10:37 amOh, that’s the funniest story I’ve read in a long time. Thanks for this post- it made my day!
Amanda
January 16, 2008 at 10:43 amOk. I still have the heeby-jeebies from the blood and rust and machines and nasty bloody apron lady with poorly bandaged thumb. eeeeewwww.