A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.
Created by Chef Remy
Smoky ham hocks simmered until the meat surrenders from the bone, tangled with pot liquor-braised collard greens and brightened with a splash of cider vinegar, the kind of honest cooking that feeds both belly and spirit.
Some dishes carry the weight of history in every bite. Ham hocks and greens is one of those dishes. This is food born from resourcefulness, from cooks who knew how to coax extraordinary flavor from humble cuts. The smoked hock gives up its soul to that pot liquor, and the greens drink it all in.
My grandmother Evangeline made this every New Year's Day without fail. She believed the greens brought money and the pork brought luck, but I think she just loved the way her kitchen smelled when that pot had been simmering for three hours. The whole house filled with smoke and garlic and the promise of something good.
At Lagniappe, we serve this as a side, but at home it stands alone with nothing but cornbread to sop up the liquor. That pot liquor is liquid gold. People who pour it down the drain are throwing away the best part. The fat from the hocks, the essence of the greens, the vinegar cutting through all that richness. You want to drink it from a cup.
Quantity
3 pounds (about 4 hocks)
Quantity
3 large bunches (about 3 pounds)
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 large
diced
Quantity
6 cloves
smashed and roughly chopped
Quantity
8 cups
Quantity
3 tablespoons, plus more to taste
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon, or to taste
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
freshly cracked
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| smoked ham hocks | 3 pounds (about 4 hocks) |
| collard greens | 3 large bunches (about 3 pounds) |
| vegetable oil or bacon drippings | 2 tablespoons |
| yellow oniondiced | 1 large |
| garlicsmashed and roughly chopped | 6 cloves |
| chicken stock or water | 8 cups |
| apple cider vinegar | 3 tablespoons, plus more to taste |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| crushed red pepper flakes | 1 teaspoon |
| smoked paprika | 1 teaspoon |
| cayenne pepper | 1/2 teaspoon, or to taste |
| brown sugar | 1 tablespoon |
| kosher salt | to taste |
| black pepperfreshly cracked | to taste |
| hot sauce (optional) | for serving |
Fill your sink with cold water. Submerge the collard greens and swish them around, letting the grit settle to the bottom. Lift the greens out and drain the sink. Repeat this at least twice, maybe three times if your greens came from the farmers market. Sand in your greens will ruin the whole pot. Strip the leaves from the thick center stems by folding each leaf in half and running your knife along the rib. Stack the leaves, roll them into a fat cigar, and slice crosswise into one-inch ribbons.
Heat the oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. When the oil shimmers, add the ham hocks. Let them sit undisturbed for three to four minutes until they develop a golden crust on the bottom. Turn and brown all sides. You are building fond here, those caramelized bits stuck to the pot. That is flavor you are creating. The hocks should smell deeply smoky and look lacquered. Remove them to a plate.
Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion to the pot with a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about five minutes. The onion will pick up all those browned bits from the hocks. Add the garlic and stir for thirty seconds until fragrant. You should smell the garlic bloom in that pork fat. Add the red pepper flakes, smoked paprika, and cayenne. Stir for another thirty seconds to wake up the spices.
Return the ham hocks to the pot. Pour in the stock, scraping up any remaining fond from the bottom. Add the bay leaves and brown sugar. The sugar is not for sweetness but to balance the bitter edge of the greens and the tang of the vinegar. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a low simmer. Cover and cook for two hours, turning the hocks once halfway through. The meat should be pulling away from the bone but not yet falling apart.
Add the collard ribbons in batches, pressing them down into the liquid as they wilt. The pot will seem impossibly full at first. Trust it. Each batch wilts down in about two minutes, making room for more. Once all the greens are in the pot and submerged in the liquor, cover and continue simmering for another hour to ninety minutes. The greens should be silky and tender, not army-green mush but not squeaky either.
Remove the bay leaves. Add the apple cider vinegar and stir. The vinegar cuts through all that rich pork fat and brightens everything. Taste the pot liquor now. This is critical. Adjust salt, add more vinegar if it needs acid, more cayenne if you want heat. The liquid should taste deeply savory with just enough tang to make you want another spoonful.
Transfer the ham hocks to a cutting board. The meat should slip right off the bone now. Pull it into chunks, discarding the skin and bones (or leave the hocks whole for a more rustic presentation). Arrange the meat over the greens in a serving bowl or divide among plates. Ladle plenty of that pot liquor over everything. Pass hot sauce at the table for those who want it.
1 serving (about 300g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Remy
Boneless chicken breasts dredged in homemade Cajun spices and seared in a screaming-hot cast iron skillet until the crust turns dark and complex, the meat stays juicy inside, and your kitchen smells like a Friday night at Lagniappe.
Chef Remy
Sweet Gulf redfish wearing a bold crust of Cajun spices, seared in a screaming cast iron until gloriously charred outside and flaky tender within, finished with golden butter pooling on the plate.
Chef Remy
Fat Gulf shrimp buried in homemade Cajun spices and kissed by a screaming-hot cast iron skillet, each bite delivering smoky char, bright heat, and the sweet ocean flavor of the Gulf.
Chef Remy
Tender pork wrapped around savory boudin stuffing, seared golden in cast iron and roasted until the meat is juicy and the rice-studded filling spills out in beautiful spirals with every slice.