Pepsi Ham

Peter stared speechlessly as my mother smeared half a jar of deli mustard on the latticed ham. Without hesitation she unscrewed a gallon of Pepsi cola and poured it over the ham until the meat was drenched in a three inch bath.

The kitchen counters were cluttered like a garage sale. Bottles of condiments and jams crowded the counter space. House plants of various sizes occupied the rest. Some were green but most were closer to yellow. Mom had cleared a place to cook us dinner. This was the first time Peter had been to a Green family meal. I did not want it to be the last.
"Why only half a jar of mustard, Mom?" I asked.
"The rest is for tomorrow's salad dressing." She answered as she lifted the pan and heaved it into the oven.

While I admired her for planning ahead, I felt anxiety creep up my back and tighten the muscles on my neck. Yes, I wanted this dinner to impress my boyfriend. Mom could grill a hot dog like a pro. She could scramble an egg. But a ham was something else.

"Oh no, I forgot the green vegetable." She dug into the fridge and pulled out a perfect head of broccoli, two onions and a head of garlic. With a cleaver she chopped it all to unrecognizable bits and threw the pieces into an electric fryer.
"Isn't that for frying chicken, Mom?"
"Says who?" she answered defensively.
She had a point. I was not a culinary authority. My repertoire was limited to chili and spaghetti with tomato sauce.
Mom poured olive oil over the vegetables and turned the dial to medium heat. Then she replaced the top and poured herself a white wine spritzer. She reached for the T.V. on the kitchen table and turned it on.
"Let's watch the six o'clock news." This was not a question but a command. We poured ourselves glasses of wine and joined her.
During commercials, Mom basted the the ham. When she opened the oven door a scent of burnt sugar filled the kitchen. I began to feel hopeful.

By the time we sat down to dinner, the ham had lost its pink color and turned brown. Pepsi brown.
"Not bad." said my husband-to be.
"Crispy." I added.
Looking pleased with her culinary efforts Mom brought the fryer to the table. She lifted off the lid with some drama revealing a formless mass of green mush.
"Wait until you taste it!"

Cola Ham

1 gallon of Cola, Pepsi or Coke
Half a bottle of Mustard
five pound ham

Preheat the oven to 350 F
Put the ham in a roasting pan.
Brush the ham with mustard.
Pour the cola over the ham.
Bake for two hours. Baste the ham every fifteen minutes.
Enjoy!