Glazed Ham Slices

Diego's last week at home. He leaves for CSU on Saturday. I planned the week's menu around his favorites. Monday: green chile cheeseburgers. Tuesday: stacked enchiladas with red chile. Wednesday: brisket from the smoker. Thursday: posole. Friday: tamales (from the freezer, the small batch from April). Saturday morning: breakfast burritos before the drive.

He ate everything. He ate like a man who knew he was about to be exiled to a dining hall. The dining hall food at CSU is, I am told, decent. The dining hall food is not Carlos Medina food. He knows it. He has been preparing himself for the gap.

Tuesday at dinner he said, "Dad. I am going to learn to cook." I said, "Yes you are." He said, "I am going to make you proud. I am going to make Mom proud. I am going to make Mamá proud." I said, "Diego. Mamá is already proud." He said, "I know. But I am going to add to it." He laughed. He ate a second plate of enchiladas.

Friday night I sat with Diego on the patio at nine. Just the two of us. The twins were inside. Sofia was reading. Lisa had gone to bed early — she said her back was hurting, but I think she was actually overwhelmed and needed to be alone. Diego sat with me. He had a glass of orange juice. I had a coffee. The light was nearly gone. The aspens were dark.

I said, "Mijo." He said, "Yeah, Dad." I said, "I love you." He said, "I love you, Dad." I said, "Whatever you do at CSU. Whatever happens with football. Whatever the year looks like. Just remember — you are a Medina. You are sober. You are the son of your mother and the grandson of your grandmother and the brother of three other kids who think you hung the moon. You have a foundation. Stand on it." He said, "Yeah, Dad." I said, "Call your mother on Sundays." He said, "I will." I said, "Call me too." He said, "Of course." I said, "If you need anything — money, food, advice on anything — call. The line is always open. The line is always going to be open." He said, "Dad. I will." We sat. The road bends. Feed your people. The game is won at the table.

I couldn’t send Diego off to CSU and then let the kitchen go quiet — that’s not how we do things in this house. After a week of enchiladas, brisket, and tamales, I keep coming back to this glazed ham recipe because it’s the kind of thing you can throw together on a Tuesday when life is heavy and your people need feeding. It’s fast, it’s warm, it hits the table with authority — and it reminds me that the game, like Diego knows now, is always won at the table.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 bone-in or boneless ham slices, about 1/2 inch thick (6–8 oz each)
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon unsalted butter

Instructions

Make the glaze. In a small bowl, whisk together the brown sugar, Dijon mustard, honey, apple cider vinegar, ground cloves, and black pepper until smooth. Set aside.
Heat the pan. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat until it just begins to foam. You want the pan hot enough to get a good sear without burning the glaze.
Sear the ham. Add the ham slices in a single layer (work in batches if needed). Cook 3 to 4 minutes per side until lightly browned and heated through.
Apply the glaze. Reduce heat to medium. Spoon or brush the glaze evenly over the top of each slice. Cook 2 to 3 minutes more, turning once, until the glaze caramelizes and clings to the ham.
Rest and serve. Transfer to a plate and let rest 2 minutes before serving. Spoon any remaining pan glaze over the top. Serve with rice, roasted potatoes, or warm bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Glazed Ham Slices — The Table That Holds Them