Knuckling down to hamonado

There is good reason why pork hamonado/hamonada is a centerpiece of Filipino holiday meals. It looks and tastes impressive for something that is actually very easy (if time-consuming) to make. Besides, it is an efficient utilization of pork hock/trotter, especially the collagen-rich ligaments and tendons therein — a culinary pleasure all their own (and leave it at that, as there is yet to be scientific proof that ingesting collagen benefits skin).

Hamonado derives from the Spanish jamón (ham), which is typically made with the hind leg(s) of the pig. I like mine with a bit more fat, so I always opt for front leg. Unlike ham, however, hamonado is not cured, but braised in a combination of soy sauce, sugar, and pineapple juice. It is decidedly on the sweet side, with some cooks going too far in that direction.

I should mention that this was my first attempt at making the dish. As with pata tim, it is daunting having to deal with a whole pork leg. Otherwise, it’s mostly waiting (and turning).

Purchase the best-looking pork leg from your butcher. Inspect closely for any remaining hair and have those removed. You might also want to smell the meat for boar taint (that’s when it smells of pee — definitely not a good thing). Rinse well under running water, place in the pot you intend to cook it with, and top with water. Remove leg and measure the water; for every 4 cups, add a heaping tablespoon of salt (mix well). Let leg steep in the brine for at least 8 hours or overnight (in the refrigerator). This allows the salt to penetrate the meat while also getting rid of excess blood.

Drain the leg well before cooking (blot out remaining moisture with paper towel). Heat 2 tablespoons oil in pot, then fry leg until lightly browned on all sides — do not worry if the browning looks uneven. Remove meat from the pan, pour out all but a teaspoon of the oil, then sauté 3 bulbs’ worth of roughly chopped yellow onion and 5 cloves of crushed garlic (skin on). Let the spices burn around the edges before adding back the pork leg together with a mixture of 3 cups water, 2 cups unsweetened pineapple juice, ¼ cup soy sauce, and 2 tablespoons muscovado sugar. Throw in a couple of dried bay laurel and black peppercorns (I used pink because I ran out of black). Cover pot and turn heat to medium-low.

Now you sit back, wait. I spent my time watching the Democratic National Convention. That was a fine speech Bill Clinton gave in support of his wife. “In the spring of 1971,” he began, “I met a girl.” I would have been a year old then, which means I am old enough to remember his other quotable quote — y’know, “I did not have sex with that woman.” If Hillary survived that, she can survive anything.

But let us get back to the hamonada. Has it been 30 minutes already? Give that leg a turn. Repeat every 30 minutes until meat is falling-apart-tender; mine was in a little under 3 hours. Adjust sauce to your taste, then thicken a bit (on the watery side) with cornstarch slurry. The pineapple slices are more of a visual flourish; plop them on top of the leg and cook for another 5 minutes (you can also add the stock if using canned). Transfer pork to a plate, top with pineapple, strain sauce over, and garnish with parsley and dried chili flakes (optional).

There is nothing elegant about eating hamonado. Not if you want to get to the really interesting parts, that is. Use your hands and start with the toes — there is only one set to a foot, so get to them before anyone else does if you are to have any at all. Little to no meat there, of course, just skin and jellified tendons and ligaments. Pop a toe in your mouth, work it clean, and spit out those little bones after. Very satisfying. Then move higher up the leg to the hock (more connective tissue) and on to the meatier, fat-layered shank. I know someone who can methodically devour an entire hamonado in one sitting. She is a joy to watch. She also happens to have great skin, but I can assure you it’s just genetic.