In Marco Pierre White’s autobiography, The Devil in the Kitchen, he talked about his first kitchen job in Hotel St. George in Harrogate where they served Jambon Chaud-Froid, a rather resplendent French classic. He said: “The [ham] was cooked and then coated in Chaud-Froid Sauce—a Béchamel or velouté sauce made with clarified butter and flour, turned into a roux and then moistened with milk, cream or onion stock, with gelatine (originally calf’s foot jelly) added to it. The sauce was then layered onto the ham. The first layer would be allowed to set before another layer was added, and then another layer, and so on until the ham was totally white. The ham was then meticulously studded with chopped truffles to form a picture, then that was covered in aspic jelly and the finished product placed on a huge silver platter and carved in the dining room”.

Not just a boiled ham then! It must have been a magnificent sight. That was 1978.

Ham cloaked in Chaud-Froid sauce decorated with egg-white petals and stems cut from onion tops

A joint of ham is one of my favourite cold meats and I first encountered Sauce Chaud Froid doing charcuterie at Le Cordon Bleu so this immediately piqued my curiosity. Eager to know what Marco’s ham might have looked like I hit the Interwebs and found this photograph in Great Moments in Ham, from Vintage Editions of Bon Appétit. I love that title—“Great Moments in Ham”—and wow! I mean, just wow. The ham looks fab, all dolled up to the nines and ready to pull. Maybe it looks a little dated but maybe that’s the style of photograph rather than the ham itself. It’s definitely a showstopper centrepiece in my book. Imagine that coming out at Christmas or Easter. Woof!

I might have thought the 70s was the land that gastronomy forgot—all bell-bottoms and boeuf bourguignon, v-necks and vol-au-vents. But now, looking back, I think it was a golden age. Yes, to our modern eyes there was much contrived styling. Literally no surface was left ungarnished. But there’s an elegance too. And for someone like me, who loves culinary technique, I’m in awe of the painfully perfect refinement.

Life’s not too short to pipe your Pommes Purée.

This dish demands a whole gammon joint, say 5kg. I went with boneless for ease of carving but cooking the ham bone-in would have more flavour. Alas, stuck in lockdown, and it being just the two of us, I reluctantly (and sensibly for once) went with a 1.5kg rolled gammon joint. My main complaint is that you lose the shape of the leg and have less surface area to decorate. Dare I say it, big is beautiful here. I also opted for an unsmoked joint. I always buy smoked hams but, being a Jambon Chaud-Froid virgin, I thought the smoke might be too powerful for the delicate chickeny Chaud-Froid.

The joint was soaked for 24 hours in cold water to reduce the salt content. The next day the joint went in a large pan, was covered with fresh cold water and brought slowly to the boil. The boiling water was then discarded and the pan refilled with cold water. Aromatics were added—halves of onion, carrot, celery, a garlic bulb cut in half, bay leaves, white peppercorns and a couple of cloves. Lid on then the water was brought slowly to a simmer. With the heat turned down and the water barely simmering the joint was slowly braised until the core temperature reached a minimum of 63C. Whatever you do, don’t cook past 70C because the meat will dry out. I turned the heat off at 65C and let the joint cool in the liquid.

Once at room temperature the ham came out of the liquid, was patted dry and the skin and excess fat was trimmed away. You could do this at the start and make crackling but I wanted maximum flavour going into the ham meat. The ham was wrapped tightly in clingfilm and chilled in the fridge.

To make the Chaud-Froid Sauce, leaves of gelatine were bloomed in cold water for 10 minutes. Meanwhile a white roux was made, then chicken stock and brandy were gradually whisked in and brought to the boil. Next double cream, salt and white pepper. Mmmm—chicken velouté. But there’s more. Lastly the soaked gelatine was whisked in. The sauce was passed through a chinois into a bowl over an ice bath and stirred with a whisk until it reached room temperature.

As soon as the sauce was thinking about setting it was poured evenly over the ham, which was ready on a wire rack over a baking tray. The ham went into the fridge for 10 minutes to set. The excess sauce in the tray was shown some heat to re-liquify and returned to the ice bath. The coating process was repeated 3 times.

A warm palette knife was used to tidy and smooth the surfaces of the set Sauce Chaud-Froid.

For decoration I used blanched chives, edible Viola flowers, and small circular buds cut from set Sauce Chaud-Froid using the end of a piping nozzle. I didn’t finish with a layer of clear chicken jelly this time. I will next time though. It would add a lovely sheen and enclose all the decorations, securing them in place.

Despite the dinky ham I was pleased with the end result. Not bad for a first attempt. It’s pretty. Maybe even elegant, in an understated way. It ate well too. Lovely cold ham with a twist, a light salad and new potatoes. Yum. And with a nice bottle of Austrian Weissburgunder—double yum.