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I ordered Carl a 15-1b cooked ham from Calhouns, in Culpepper W. Virginia, for Christmas. It was a bit sneaky of me since I wanted to try the ham, but needed to give it to someone in order to do so. Carl is notorious for not liking gifts so I figured food was safe (since he could hardly eat an entire 15 lb ham by himself.) In year's past, Carl has "accidentally" disposed of gifts I gave him i.e. one year, a new pair of very cool Puma sneakers somehow "fell" down the incinerator chute.

I'm happy to report that the ham is pretty yummy (and still in the fridge.) I would have to agree with the shout-outs touting the wonders of Calhoun's hams (on the back page of flyer which came in the package.) The first shout-out was from the chef/owner at The Inn at Little Washington. I've always wanted to eat there, but doubt Carl would accompany me. Oh well, I have the ham, which the chef from the Little Inn apparently likes, so that will have to do for now. Anyway, I was the only one who tried the ham today. It was a bit unnerving to cut off the double-plastic wrap and then snip away at what seemed like a hair net. Carl came into the kitchen and reassured me that he thought the hairnet helped flavor the ham while making it clear that he wasn't hungry. The ham was finely cross hatched all over so I think he's right; the hatching must allow the flavor to seep in. The flyer said the ham is rubbed with "old fashioned cure three times in the first 8 weeks and then hung in the ham house to age six to 12months."

When I ordered the ham, I asked them to send it cooked. The idea of boiling it was a bit off putting to me. I ended up eating slices of the ham with mustard and alternating it with slices of pear. The pears arrived in a Tower of Treats from Harry and David, courtesy of my mother. After a few slices of both, I had a very tiny taste of one little chocolate (also in the Tower of Treats). My appetite is a bit off because I reluctantly agreed to take antibiotics this week and they pretty much ruin me (appetite and energy-wise). Fortunately the ham still tasted good. (My cool new doctor in Chinatown firmly insisted that 8 weeks of bronchitis is a bit extreme and thus prescribed the medicine. So much for my aversion to antibiotics.) At least she didn't quibble with my daily diet of cheese and said it was a good source of calcium.

The rest of the family wasn't hungry because they were able to eat Christmas breakfast at Odessa's, (that good, old Ukrainian standby on Avenue A in the E. Village). Odessa's is our other home-away-from home haunt. Big daughter and I went there for breakfast every Saturday during her childhood. We would meet her little friends there and then go across the street to the playground at Tompkins Square park or roam around the neighborhood gardens ( most of which have become the site of newly-constructed apartment buildings.)

We don't get to Odessa's as much as we used to but it seemed right for Christmas breakfast today. Little one started melting down (I think Santa overexcited her) over the vanilla egg cream and demanded juice, but refused my orange juice. Big Sister looked alarmed, but luckily little one's food arrived - two eggs sunny side up and hash browns. She calmed down as she dipped her bread into the yolks and I ate the sliced steak that came with it. Carl got his usual order of Challah Bread with no butter and orange marmalade. He couldn't resist my order of Challah Bread as well. (His only other meal of the day was homemade crepes and strawberries. After I melted butter for little one, as part of playing "chef" with her new set of toy cookware, I decided not to waste it and made the crepes.) Big daughter was in heaven over her omelet, and two sides of Kielbasa. We didn't see our regular manager this morning but it didn't matter - nothing ever changes at Odessa and that's why we love it. The menu still says Farina even though they stopped making it years ago! By the time we left, Odessa's was jumping.

I have a shout-out of my own for big daughter. She gave me a personalized Breakfast at Tiffany's gift - an Izzy Gold tshirt and a Tiffany's box holding a little silver heart-in-a-heart necklace. When she gets back from a three-week visit to see her father in Belgrade, Yugoslavia, I'll have found us the perfect place for our own real-life Breakfast at Tiffany's. Maybe we'll try a new Viennese cafe I just read about on the Upper West Side.