Collard Greens with Smoked Ham Hocks

April. The humidity is starting to settle in like a relative who plans to stay through September. I don't mind it — I was born in this heat, raised in it, married in it. People who complain about Savannah summers are people who weren't built for them. My body knows this air the way it knows the smell of the marsh at low tide — deep, personal, permanent.

This was a school week like any other, which means I stood in that kitchen from six in the morning until two in the afternoon, feeding children who need feeding. We did baked chicken, green beans, cornbread, and fruit cups on Monday. Tuesday was spaghetti day, which the children love and which I make with a sauce that has actual vegetables hidden in it — pureed carrots, zucchini, a little sweet potato — because if you tell a seven-year-old they're eating vegetables, they'll stage a revolution, but if you puree them into the sauce, they'll ask for seconds.

I've been thinking a lot about what happens after I retire. Not this year, probably, but soon. Thirty-three years in that kitchen. Four hundred lunches a day. Tens of thousands of children fed. My knees are telling me something, baby, and my knees don't lie. The left one especially — it sounds like a screen door when I go up the stairs, and Earl says he can hear me coming from the other room. I told him that's because I want him to know I'm on my way. He said, "Your knees want me to know you're on your way." Smart man. Annoying, but smart.

Kayla called Thursday night, panicking about her clinical exams. She was going through dosage calculations and second-guessing herself, and I could hear the tears in her voice even though she was trying to hide them. I said, "Kayla Marie Henderson, you listen to me. You have studied harder than anyone I know. You are smart, you are capable, and you are your father's daughter, which means you do not quit. Now drink some water, go to sleep, and let your brain do its work." She was quiet for a minute. Then she said, "Thank you, Granny." That's all I needed to hear.

Made collard greens this week — the real way, with smoked ham hocks and apple cider vinegar and three hours of patience. Cooking greens is an act of faith, baby. You put them in the pot looking like a pile of leaves and you walk away, and three hours later they're silk. You can't rush greens. You can't rush anything worth having.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I told you about those greens I made this week — the ones with the ham hocks and the vinegar and the three hours of not rushing. That’s the recipe I’m leaving you with today. After standing in that school kitchen all week, after talking Kayla off the ledge Thursday night, after listening to my knees sing their little song every time I climb those stairs — I needed something that doesn’t ask you to hurry. You put the greens in the pot, you let them do their work, and you trust the process. Here’s how I make them, the way my mother made them, the way her mother made them before that.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 3 hours | Total Time: 3 hours 20 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 large bunches collard greens (about 2 pounds), stems removed, leaves torn into pieces
2 smoked ham hocks (about 1 1/2 pounds total)
1 large yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
6 cups chicken broth
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Hot sauce, for serving

Instructions

Wash the greens. Fill a clean sink or large basin with cold water. Submerge the collard leaves and swish them around to remove grit. Lift them out, drain, and repeat until no sand or dirt remains at the bottom — usually two or three washes. Tear or cut leaves into large, rough pieces.
Sear the ham hocks. Melt the butter in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the ham hocks and sear on all sides until golden brown, about 3 to 4 minutes per side. Remove and set aside.
Build the base. Add the diced onion to the pot and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more, stirring so it doesn’t burn.
Add the liquids and seasonings. Pour in the chicken broth, apple cider vinegar, and brown sugar. Stir in the smoked paprika, red pepper flakes, salt, and black pepper. Return the ham hocks to the pot and bring everything to a boil.
Add the greens. Add the collard greens in batches, pressing them down with a wooden spoon as they wilt to make room for more. Once all the greens are in the pot, reduce the heat to low and cover.
Simmer low and slow. Cook on low heat for 2 1/2 to 3 hours, stirring occasionally, until the greens are silky tender and the ham hocks are falling off the bone. The liquid — that’s your pot likker — should be rich and deeply flavored.
Finish and serve. Remove the ham hocks and pull the meat from the bones, discarding the skin and bones. Stir the meat back into the greens. Taste and adjust the salt, pepper, and vinegar as needed. Serve in bowls with plenty of pot likker and hot sauce on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Collard Greens with Smoked Ham Hocks — Three Hours of Patience and a Whole Lot of Faith