This is reposted from Dec 2006.

Excellent Easter main course.

 
The holidays are in full swing — which means a concerted effort to attain new heights of dietary excess, occasioned by an endless stream of convivial gatherings of family and friends. Einstein postulated that gravity has waves; such waves seem self-evident, making the bathroom scale increasingly inaccurate at certain times of the solar year.

This year, for a dinner for our church small group, I decided to have a wonderful chutney-glazed stuffed pork which I discovered last year at Easter, courtesy of a good friend who is an excellent cook. It was, by the estimation of an esteemed group of culinary critics (my family), the best pork they had ever tasted. I think I have to agree.

The dish begins with a full pork tenderloin. Our local Costco has these at surprisingly good prices – $17 for a full tenderloin (the entire psoas muscle, for those of you anatomically inclined). I cut this in half to make the length manageable in a roasting pan.

The tenderloin is a very lean cut, but has a tough fascial layer (tendon) running along one side. There is a plane between a thinner layer of sinew on the meat and the main tendon, so the thicker tendon can be separated fairly easily, leaving a thin layer of collagen on the meat.

Always use good surgical technique, of coarse: traction-countertraction, scissor tips in closed, then spread to separate and condense the loose connective tissue, which is then cut. Good kitchen shears or a very sharp knife are a must. The thin layer of attached collagen remaining will prove useful for the next maneuver — preparing the loin for stuffing.

With the tendon-side down, the loin is first bivalved along its center, nearly full thickness. The thin tendon helps hold the roast together with this deep cut. Now, in order to increase the size of the stuffing area — and give the finished meat an internal star pattern of stuffing — several cuts are made laterally at an angle from the center cut.

The first cut starts just below the center of each half, angled toward the cutting board. The next is angled parallel to the cutting board. The idea is to create angled wedges of meat, which will allow the loin to expand and form the sides of the star.

The roast should now lie flat, with triangular ridges running it’s length.

    

Now, on to the stuffing: I prefer to use fresh-baked baguettes from our local supermarket, sliced thinly and allowed to dry overnight (or in a warm oven for 20-30 minutes), then coarsely chopped in a food processor. Packaged stuffing is OK, but should not be seasoned.

Next comes the fruit — pears and apricots. Pour off the syrup from a large can of pears and save it, then chop the pears and apricots, sprinkle with allspice, then add to the stuffing. I sometimes add some fruit for color as well — blueberries, dried cranberries, or currants.

    

Now add some slivered almonds to the mix for crunch and texture, and blend.

    

To moisten the stuffing we introduce our next secret ingredient: chutney. Our favorite is Silver Palate Mango Chutney, which has a hefty dose of ginger, resulting in a bit of a “bite” — a wonderful blend of sweet and tangy. The chutney is thinned with some of the pear juice, and added to the stuffing mixture to bind it.

    

The moistened stuffing is then worked into the opened roast in generous amounts, which is then rolled in and tied with kitchen twine. Use a surgeon’s knot (double loop on the first throw) to prevent the twine from slipping.

  

The pork loin halves are then glazed with the chutney and placed on a rack in a large roasting pan. The oven is heated to 325 degrees, and basting is not necessary. Roasting time is a bit hard to predict — this roast took about 2 hours — but cook to an internal temperature of 160 to 165 degrees, using a good meat thermometer. Do not overcook! Domestically-raised pork has an extremely low risk of trichinosis (unlike wild game), and the parasite is killed at about 135-140 degrees, if not less. Overcooked pork is a dry abomination, suited only for snacks after waterboarding at Gitmo.

Preparing this roast may look like a production, but is actually quite fast, taking only about 30-45 minutes of prep time before it reaches the oven. It is excellent served with a garnish of crushed raspberries with sugar and lemon juice, or cranberry horseradish sauce.

So give it a whirl for your next holiday meal or guest dinner. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

The holidays are in full swing — which means a concerted effort to attain new heights of dietary excess, occasioned by an endless stream of convivial gatherings of family and friends. Einstein postulated that gravity has waves; such waves seem self-evident, making the bathroom scale increasingly inaccurate at certain times of the solar year.

This year, for a dinner for our church small group, I decided to have a wonderful chutney-glazed stuffed pork which I discovered last year at Easter, courtesy of a good friend who is an excellent cook. It was, by the estimation of an esteemed group of culinary critics (my family), the best pork they had ever tasted. I think I have to agree.
Continue reading “Holiday Pork Tenderloin” →

 
Well, life’s been a little crazy of late, so when stress gets the best of me, there’s really only one solution: let’s eat!

My daughter, recovering from back surgery at our home, had a few of her friends visit us over the weekend, giving me an opportunity to do some cooking, which is a pastime I have not been indulging in much of late, given our empty nest and my crazy hours. So the mood seemed just right for a little pizza-mind.

Pizza has a long and noble history, dating back to the round flat breads baked in ancient Greece, seasoned with olive oil and herbs. With the addition of mozzarella cheese (first made from water buffallo milk) and the tomato (an import from the Americas, initially thought to be poisonous), the tomato and cheese pie which we now know today evolved in Naples, Italy, in the seventeenth and eighteenth century. Its popularity increased greatly after WWII, after U.S. and European troops occupying Italy first experienced its delights, and has evolved far beyond its humble beginnings as a simple peasant food.

Homemade pizza is surprisingly easy to make, and well worth the small effort involved–especially when compared to the high-priced greasy salt-licks sold by commercial chains–or worse, their cardboard cousins lining the freezer aisles at your local supermarket.

While commercial crusts can be had, they often suffer from some of the same liabilities, so it’s best to make one from scratch. The dough is quite simple, typically involving only flour, water, salt, yeast, and a little olive oil. My combo is 4 1/2 cups of flour (usually 3/4 white, 1/4 whole wheat) about 1-1 1/2 cups of warm water (flours vary on how much they absorb), 2 tbsp of olive oil, 1 tbsp of salt, and a packet of rapid-rise yeast dissolved in the warm water. I often add some herbs (oregano or sweet basil, and sometimes crushed garlic) to the mix for a little extra flavor and color as well. You can kneed these together by hand, but a KitchenAid mixer with a dough hook is a big help. You want a dough that is moist to the touch but not sticky. Cover it in a bowl, place in a nice warm spot in the kitchen, and let it rise for about 2 hours, until it at least doubles. One rise is sufficient. When it’s ready, punch it down, knead it again (you can add a little more flour if it’s too sticky), and divide into three parts with a knife. Each of these will make a pie about 9 inches across.

While your dough is rising, it’s time to tackle the red sauce. None of that bottled or canned bilge, right? Go with the real thing–it’s very easy.

There are endless variations on red sauces. Mine has evolved over the years, and is a variation on the puttanesca–a potent sauce made with garlic, olive oil, tomatoes, capers, anchovies, olives, and oregano. This sauce, by legend, was first made by Italian prostitutes (puttana is Italian for “prostitute”, as it could purportedly be made quickly between clients–these fine ladies had tricks in the kitchen as well as in the bedroom). My variation drops the olives, adds sauteed onions, and sometimes meat, especially sausage–although I also often make a straight puttanesca, which is spectacular as a meatless meal served over angle-hair pasta.

 
Start with a nice heavy 4 quart sauce pan, and place some olive oil in the bottom–2-4 tablespoons. We are fortunate to live near a good Italian deli which stuffs their own sausages, although decent ones can be had at most supermarkets as well (fresh, not frozen, of course). I pierce the sausage casings to facilitate cooking off some of their fat, and saute them slowly until nicely brown, then pour off the excess fat and place the sausages on paper towels to cool.

 
Coarsely chop a large onion and saute it in the oil-fat mixture until translucent and browned, then add garlic. Garlic is the food of the gods, so I add lots–at least 3 big cloves, crushed–but should only be cooked a minute or two as it burns easily and becomes bitter.

Now it’s time for the tomatoes. In season, I like fresh Italian plum tomatos, blanched to remove their skins, then coarsely chopped. Plum tomatoes liquify well with cooking, and fresh ones make a pungent sauce that’s incomparable–but our season for these here in the Northwest is short, so I’m settling for their canned cousins. I add the tomatoes (1 large can) to the onion-garlic saute, and then add the herbs: black and hot red pepper, fennel, oregano, sweet basil, capers, and anchovy paste.

 

The sausages are sliced and added at this time as well. I cook this mixture down for 45 minutes to an hour to reduce the liquid and make a rich, thick tomato saute.

 

Finally, I add a large can of tomato puree, and slowly simmer these together to blend flavors and bring it up to temperature. If heaven smells this good, I’m ready to die.

 

Now back to the pizzas: Each of the three sections is formed into a ball, then pressed flat on a large cutting board dusted with flour. I’d like to tell you that I’ve mastered the art of spinning the dough in the air–but my experience with this command performance is not impressive, generally ending with a lump of dough on the floor, flour everywhere, and the guffaws of family and friends. So I roll it out, rotating the dough and letting it rest a bit to relax the gluten, and finally pushing and stretching the dough out to the edge by hand at the end to create a lip. Keep the board dusted with flour so the dough will slide off easily when it heads for the oven.

 

The sauce is then ladled onto the dough, followed by a generous helping of mozarella, any toppings you may wish (sauteed onions and bell peppers, or caramelized onions are a favorite), and finally the accent cheeses: Romano and Parmesan.

 

 

The oven is preheated to 425-450 degrees, with one important addition: a brick. The use of a brick or stone allows the crust to breathe rather than steam as it cooks, making it far crisper. A cookie sheet is an alternative, but just doesn’t quite measure up–and the pie tends to stick to it, making its extraction a real chore.

 

I generally cook the pies about 13-15 minutes, until the top is bubbling and the crust edges are starting to brown. A large wooden paddle (also called a peel) really makes life easier when removing the pie from the oven, avoiding burns and the tragedy of a glorious pizza face down on the floor: heaven for the dogs, hell for the hungry waiting crowds and the cook.

 

So there you have it–give it a try, it’s a great summer dinner for friends and family.