Potato Ham Bake — The Ham Hock Is a Message

One week. Clay comes home next Monday. Seven days of waiting. I've cleaned his room, which didn't need cleaning because he cleaned it before he left, but I cleaned it again because cleaning is doing and doing is not waiting and waiting is unbearable.

I ordered a ham hock from the butcher. The best one he had — meaty, smoked, heavy. For the soup beans. For Monday. For the moment my son walks through the door and smells pinto beans and ham and knows, before I say a word, that he's home. The ham hock is a message. The ham hock says: I've been waiting for you. I started soaking the beans last night. I timed the cooking so they'll be done when your plane lands. The ham hock is a father standing at a stove speaking in a language that doesn't have words, only aromas.

Amber is coming home the same weekend to see Clay before he deploys. She moved some clinical shifts around — nurses know how to negotiate schedules, apparently, with the same skill that lawyers negotiate contracts, except nurses do it while saving lives between negotiations. She'll be here Saturday through Monday. Two days of overlap with Clay. Two days of all five Hensleys in the same house, eating at the same table, breathing the same air. The last time all five of us will be together before Clay goes to Afghanistan.

I don't want to think about "last times." I've been thinking about "last times" for a year — the last football game, the last Christmas at home, the last Thanksgiving, the last. The word "last" is a blade. It cuts the moment away from all the future moments and isolates it, makes it precious and terrible at the same time. I don't want the word "last." I want the word "next." Next time we eat together. Next Christmas. Next Thanksgiving. Next. Next implies continuation. Next implies a future. Next is the only word I want in my vocabulary for the rest of January.

Betty called. She said she's making sorghum cookies to send with Clay. She said she's making a stack cake to send with me. She said "Feed that boy everything he needs before he goes." I said "I will." She said "I mean everything, Craig. Not just food. Feed him the kitchen. Feed him the porch. Feed him the sound of his mama's voice and the smell of his daddy's grill and the taste of everything he's coming home to. Feed him home." I said "I will." She said "Good." And then she said "I love you" which Betty says approximately once per decade and which I will carry in my chest alongside the soup bean index card and the game ball and the smell of clay dust and ham hock and everything else I carry that keeps me upright.

The soup beans are Craig’s Monday dish — that’s already decided, the ham hock is already ordered — but this Potato Ham Bake is what he’ll pull together for Saturday, the night Amber arrives and the house has four Hensleys under one roof again. It asks nothing complicated of you. It only asks that you layer the ingredients with intention, slide it into the oven, and let the smell of ham and potato and warmth do what Betty always said food is supposed to do: feed him home.

Potato Ham Bake

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 1 hr | Total Time: 1 hr 20 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 2 lbs Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced (about 1/8 inch)
• 2 cups cooked ham, diced or pulled from a ham hock
• 1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 can (10.5 oz) cream of mushroom soup
• 3/4 cup whole milk
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
• 1/2 tsp black pepper
• 1/4 tsp smoked paprika
• Salt to taste
• 2 tbsp butter, cut into small pieces
• Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with butter or nonstick spray.
2. Make the sauce. In a large bowl, whisk together the cream of mushroom soup, milk, sour cream, garlic, black pepper, and smoked paprika until smooth. Taste and add salt as needed.
3. Layer the casserole. Spread one-third of the sliced potatoes in an even layer on the bottom of the prepared baking dish. Top with half the onion slices and half the diced ham. Spoon one-third of the sauce over the top and sprinkle with 1/3 cup of the shredded cheddar. Repeat the layers once more with another third of the potatoes, the remaining onion and ham, another third of the sauce, and another 1/3 cup of cheese.
4. Top and dot with butter. Finish with the final layer of potato slices, pour the remaining sauce evenly over everything, and scatter the small pieces of butter across the top. Reserve the last 1/2 cup of cheese for later.
5. Cover and bake. Cover the dish tightly with aluminum foil and bake for 50 minutes, until the potatoes are fork-tender all the way through.
6. Brown the top. Remove the foil, scatter the remaining 1/2 cup of cheddar over the top, and return to the oven uncovered for 10–12 minutes until the cheese is bubbly and golden at the edges.
7. Rest and serve. Let the casserole rest for 10 minutes before serving so the layers hold together. Garnish with fresh parsley if desired. Serve straight from the dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 890mg