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Ham and Cheese Loaf — Something Solid for a Week That Asked a Lot

Valentine's. Quiet. The kids were at Brianna's. I made myself a steak and watched a movie. The bed felt big. Some Februarys are like that. The next Valentine will be different. Or it won't. Either is okay.

Pop's in the recliner. Tigers on. Sugar in range this week. Sunday at Mama's. She made greens with hambone the way she has since 1985.

Pot of chili Saturday. Beef and beans. Cayenne, ancho, cumin, smoked paprika. Slow simmer four hours.

Aiden's 10. The youth basketball league. I'm coaching. He's the best player on the team and he knows it. Zaria's 8. Helps me cook on a step stool. Has opinions about the seasoning.

I drove home Sunday past the plant. The plant lights were on. The line was running. The line is always running.

Filled the propane tank Wednesday. The smoker is the only appliance I baby. Wiped it down. Checked the gaskets. Checked the temperature gauge. The smoker is mine the way Pop's torque wrench was his.

The block had a small drama Tuesday. Somebody parked in front of Ms. Diane's driveway. Ms. Diane addressed it directly. The car moved within the hour. The neighborhood polices itself on small things.

Truck needed an oil change Saturday. Did it myself in the driveway. Took an hour. The neighbor across the street gave me a thumbs-up from his porch. I gave him one back. Detroit men do not waste words on car maintenance.

Drove past Jefferson North on Tuesday. The plant is still the plant. The trucks coming out. I waved at the gate guard out of habit. He waved back even though he didn't know me. The plant is its own neighborhood.

A reader wrote in about the smothered pork chops. Said her late husband loved them. I wrote back. I told her about Pop. We exchanged three emails. She's in Saginaw. She's coming to the city in the spring.

Mr. Williams across the street had a heart scare. He is okay. We are all watching each other now. I took him a plate of greens and chicken Wednesday. He said, "DeShawn. You're a good neighbor." I said, "We're even, Mr. Williams. You shoveled my walk in 2024." He laughed.

A neighbor down the street gave me a tomato plant Saturday. He grows them on his porch. Said he had extra. I put it next to the back step where it gets the afternoon sun. Detroit gardens are improvised victories.

I read for an hour Sunday night. A book about the auto industry. Half memoir, half history. Made me think about Pop and the line and the fragile contract that built the middle of this country. I underlined the parts that hit.

A song came on the radio Tuesday — old Stevie Wonder — and I had to sit in the truck for the rest of it before I went into the store. Some songs do that. Detroit is a city of songs that do that.

I cleaned the smoker Sunday morning. Brushed the grates. Emptied the ash. Wiped down the body. The smoker repays attention. So does most everything that matters.

The kids next door knocked over my trash cans Tuesday night. Their dad made them help me clean up Wednesday morning. Good man. The kids apologized. I gave them each a Capri Sun. Cycle complete.

The grass came in fast this week. Cut it Saturday morning before the heat. The mower had been sitting all winter. Took three pulls to start. Once it ran, it ran. Some things just need patience.

The basketball court at the rec center got refurbished. New floor. Plays different. Bouncy. I shot a few from the elbow before practice Wednesday. The knee held. The shot fell short.

The chili was Saturday’s work — four hours, slow heat, cayenne and ancho doing what they’re supposed to do. But a week like this one, where I’m watching Mr. Williams’ color come back and writing emails to a woman in Saginaw about her late husband and my pop, calls for more than one act of feeding. This Ham and Cheese Loaf is Sunday food. It’s the kind of thing you pull together when you want something solid in the oven and your hands already know what to do — the kind of dish Zaria stands on her step stool to help with, tasting the mix and telling me it needs more mustard. She’s usually right.

Ham and Cheese Loaf

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 25 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 lb ground ham
  • 1/2 lb ground pork
  • 1 cup plain breadcrumbs
  • 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
  • 3/4 cup whole milk
  • 1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
  • 1/4 cup finely diced yellow onion
  • 1 tbsp yellow mustard
  • 1/2 tsp black pepper
  • For the glaze: 1/2 cup packed brown sugar, 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar, 1 tsp dry mustard powder

Instructions

  1. Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan or a rimmed baking dish.
  2. Mix the loaf. In a large bowl, combine ground ham, ground pork, breadcrumbs, eggs, milk, cheddar, onion, yellow mustard, and black pepper. Mix until just combined — do not overwork it.
  3. Form and place. Press the mixture firmly into the prepared pan, shaping it into an even loaf with no air pockets.
  4. Make the glaze. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, stir together brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, and dry mustard until the sugar dissolves, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat.
  5. Glaze and bake. Spoon half the glaze over the top of the loaf. Bake uncovered for 40 minutes, then spoon the remaining glaze over the top and bake an additional 25–30 minutes, until the internal temperature reaches 160°F and the top is caramelized and set.
  6. Rest and slice. Let the loaf rest in the pan for 10 minutes before slicing. This keeps it from falling apart when you cut it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 370 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 890mg

DeShawn Carter
About the cook who shared this
DeShawn Carter
Week 517 of DeShawn’s 30-year story · Detroit, Michigan
DeShawn is a thirty-six-year-old single dad, auto plant worker, and a man who didn't learn to cook until his wife left and his five-year-old asked, "Daddy, can you cook something?" He called his mama, who came over with two bags of groceries and spent six months teaching him the basics. Now he's the dad at the cookout who brings the ribs, the guy at the plant whose leftover gumbo starts fights, and living proof that it's never too late to learn.

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