Ham Caesar Salad -- The Pink-Edged Slices That Lasted Past Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday. We did not make a thing of it — Gallaghers do not do Easter the way some families do — but Mom made a ham (a small one, six pounds, glazed with honey and brown sugar and cloves and bourbon I do not drink but use) and a coconut cake from her grandmother's recipe, and Cole and Tara and Maggie drove down for the afternoon, and we ate at three in the afternoon at the long table with the windows open for the first time since October. Sixty-eight degrees outside. Sun. The willows along the river fully leafed. The grass in the home pasture six inches tall. Maggie, seven weeks old, in her bassinet by the table, awake, looking around with her dark eyes that are starting to track the room. The day was lovely. The day was, frankly, the kind of day a Montana rancher gets a few of in a year and that you bank against the winter.

Patrick was up to the table for the whole meal. He held himself well. He had three slices of ham — pink, edged with caramelized glaze, served with fresh dill from Mom's pots and a horseradish-mustard sauce I had made from the last of the horseradish root in the cellar. He had a slice of cake. He drank a cup of coffee. He sat at the head of the table where he has sat for forty-eight years and he was, for the duration of the meal, the man he was at sixty before any of this started. That happens sometimes — a meal, a day, a window — when the man under the disease comes through. Mom and I have learned to recognize the windows. We have learned to be there for them. We do not over-react. We do not act as if it is special. We sit at the table and pass the ham and let the man have the meal.

Maggie woke up halfway through dinner and Tara nursed her at the table — Tara has gotten over any modesty she might once have had — and Maggie ate and Tara ate and the four-month-old's head bobbed gently against Tara's arm as she nursed and the rest of us ate around them and the meal was the kind of family meal you would put in a movie about Sunday dinner if a movie were going to be honest about Sunday dinner, which most movies are not. After the meal we sat on the porch — yes, the porch, in April, with no coats — and Cole held Maggie and Patrick rocked himself in the chair he has rocked himself in for forty years and Mom and Tara talked low and I sat on the steps and looked at the Bull Mountains and did not say much. There was not anything to say. The day was the day. Easter at the Gallagher ranch, 2025. I will remember this one.

I shod two horses Tuesday and one Thursday. The clients are in better moods because the weather is better. The horses are in better moods because the grass is better. I am in a better mood because I am sleeping more and the muddy pasture is firming up. The cycle of the work is the cycle. Spring is the easy season for the farrier. Summer is the busy season. Fall is the urgent season. Winter is the hard season. We are in the easy season. I am taking it.

Cooked Saturday a pot roast for the AA cookout. Eleven men this week — the warm weather pulled in two of the new guys who had skipped winter — and the pot roast was three pounds of cheap chuck I had braised since noon, served with biscuits and gravy and the first of the spring greens from the cold frame. Marcus made two hundred days. He is now beyond any number that previously had a meaning to him. He is in territory where the count is just numbers and the work is just the work. The men noticed. The men did not say so. The fire was big. The night was warm. The men stayed late. Marcus laughed three times in one evening, which is a record for Marcus, who has not been a laugher historically. The fire helps. The ham helps. The Easter day helps most.

Patrick had three slices off that glazed ham and there was still enough left over to do something right with on Monday. The day itself — the windows open, the willows leafed out, Maggie looking around the table with those dark eyes — was not something I needed to chase or recreate, but the ham deserved more than a sandwich, and a Ham Caesar felt like the right call: something simple enough not to overwork the memory of Sunday, but put-together enough to honor what went into that glaze.

Ham Caesar Salad

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 2 large romaine hearts, chopped
• 2 cups cooked ham, sliced or cubed
• 1/2 cup Caesar dressing (store-bought or homemade)
• 1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
• 1 cup croutons
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder

Instructions

1. Prep the romaine. Chop romaine hearts into bite-sized pieces, rinse, and spin or pat dry. Transfer to a large salad bowl.
2. Slice the ham. Cut cooked ham into thin slices or 3/4-inch cubes. If using leftover glazed ham, trim away any heavily charred edges but keep the caramelized bits — they add flavor.
3. Dress the greens. Drizzle Caesar dressing and lemon juice over the romaine. Add garlic powder and black pepper. Toss well to coat every leaf.
4. Add the ham. Scatter ham over the dressed romaine and toss gently once more so the ham is distributed throughout.
5. Finish and serve. Top with shredded Parmesan and croutons. Serve immediately so the croutons hold their crunch.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 320 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 980mg