Fun with gammon

While we were at the Edinburgh Farmer's Market yesterday morning, we picked up a gammon joint from Puddledub Pork. It looked very nice, and Hattie assured me that these things are very easy to cook, really. Since to me the title "novice cook" would be one of great honour, I elected to believe her. These things are usually for the best.

As was to be expected, she was absolutely right. We first boiled the joint in a pan with bay leaves and peppercorns for about 40 minutes, about ten minutes longer than our cooking instructions (thanks, Waitrose website!) since my largest pan was not quite up to the job of submerging the last centimetre of the joint in water, no matter how much squishing we subjected it to. So the compromise made was to turn the joint regularly in the water for a little longer, and seriously consider investment in better cookware. This stage of the cooking turned the joint a healthy light pink colour, and infused it with flavour through the water.

At least, that's what I'm told.

Next we removed the skin, scored and studded the fat of the joint with cloves, and covered it generously with a light brown sugar. Studding things with cloves is something of a passion of mine, so I was more than happy to take on this part of the task. Something about almost any type of food studded with cloves has a certain charm to it, and the simple act of pushing nature's little map pins into food is the sort of mindless fun that I can do for hours. Given that I'm the slowest of slow cooks, I often come close to doing this anyway.

In any case, after this we threw the joint into the oven at a high heat (the posh supermarket's site promised an "attractive glazed finish" if we did this) for another half an hour while we knocked up some boiled Rooster potatoes and carrots, along with Harriet's lovely parsley sauce. Once all of this was ready, we pulled out the joint. It looked, and tasted, just great; the sugar-glazed, clove-infused fat was particularly delicious. Just look at it!