2-Minute Multiplier: Ham Hocks
In scrounging through the freezer yesterday I stumbled upon a bag of smoked ham hocks.
They landed in the shopping cart a few months back. The brainchild of needing a pot of pinto beans and any pinto worth eating must be infused with ham hocks. Especially smoked ones.
Ham hocks cost pennies per pound. In part because there are bones in those pounds. But also because ham hocks can’t demand lead role salaries. No one orders a slab of ham hock. At least not that I know of.
Ham hocks are destined to supporting-role billing. They land the part because of flavor and aroma. Not beauty. Lingering umami of a hillbilly genre.
The most influential Christians in my life tend to the ham hock label. People who flavored me by presence and encouragement. Sometimes incredibly critical. Always incredibly loving. Forever friends.
No names most people will ever remember. Yet life-changing names for me. In me.
Ham hocks and Christians. There’s an analogy to live by.
Be a ham hock. The smokier the better.