Pork Roll with Sour Cherry Chutney

Karl is the kind of guy who has a hard time passing up a great deal on meat. We live the lives of quasi-vegetarians, not eating meat as often as many omnivores, partly because it's expensive. So, whenever there's a good sale on, say, a whole pork tenderloin, Karl buys one, slices it up, and freezes it in 1-lb packages. It's a pretty good system for insuring a steady supply of cheap, lean meat.

However, pork tenderloin is boring. I'll admit, the tenderloin is not my favorite part of the pig. It's hard to cook it so that it isn't dry or tough. Accordingly, we have been having fun trying different methods. We've tried slicing it 1 1/2 inches thick then stuffing it with fennel, onion, and breadcrumbs (that was pretty tasty); slow cooking it with some marinade and veggies (dry as a bone), and roasting it (also dry). Karl has had some good success pan-frying some of the stuffed slices.

Our latest attempt was born of one of my rare moments of true kitchen spontaneity. We were just planning to stuff the pork again, this time with a fruity mixture, but then I thought I'd try a technique I'd heard described a while back on "The Splendid Table," an American Public Media radio program hosted by Lynne Rosetto Kasper. The technique involves slicing the meet in a spiral fashion so that it rolls out flat. It was pretty easy to do with the pork tenderloin and a good, sharp knife.

I then spread my stuffing mixture (some cooked down sour cherries, ginger, garlic, and onion) on the slab of meat and rolled it back up, just like you would a jelly roll cake.

Into the frying pan it went to sear, then I popped it in a 400˚F oven for about 25 minutes (until it reached about 155˚F internal temperature).

It probably would have been useful to have some butcher's twine to keep the pork roll nice and tight, but I strategically seared the various sides so that there was no tragic loss of visual effect (when the meat is cooked it firms and holds its shape).

It turned out pretty well, we both thought, and though we still experienced some dryness in the meat, the cherry "chutney" we used on the inside seemed to help keep that part moist at least. In addition to the beautiful visual the spiraled pork made, we both really enjoyed the cherries as a complement to the pork.

We'll just have to keep trying to figure out how to avoid drying out that pork tenderloin!

Pork Roll with Sour Cherry Chutney
Serves 4

1 lb pork tenderloin, at room temperature
1 onion, chopped
2 TBSP ginger & garlic paste** (substitute 1 clove ginger, 1 TBSP minced ginger)
1 1/2 cups sour cherries (pitted, frozen or fresh)
1/2 tsp salt, plus more for rubbing pork
1/2 tsp black pepper, plus more for rubbing pork
olive oil

Preheat oven to 400˚F.

To prepare the pork tenderloin, take a very sharp chef's knife and cut the pork in a spiral fashion to be about 3/4- to 1-inch thick. Rub some salt and pepper into both sides of the meat. Set aside.

Meanwhile, in an oven-proof skillet over medium heat, heat about 2 TBSP of olive oil. Add the onions, and cook 3-4 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the ginger and garlic paste and cherries, and cook another 5-10 minutes until the onions are soft and the cherries have burst. Remove from the heat and place the cherry chutney in a separate bowl.

Spread a layer of the cherry chutney on the flat slab of pork, then roll it up tightly. Reserve any unused cherry chutney. If you have butcher's string or twine, you can tie the pork roll up so it won't unroll.

Heat the skillet back up to high heat, and put some olive oil in the pan to heat up. Sear the pork roll on all sides, then place it in the oven. Roast for 20-25 minutes, or until internal temperature of the meat reaches 155˚F. Remove the pork roll from the oven, and allow to rest for 10-15 minutes before slicing. Slice 1-inch thick, and garnish with the reserved cherry chutney.

**SWAD Garlic and Ginger Paste ($2.49). This stuff is amazing and very cost-effective. We use it in lots and lots of things from eggs to pasta to rice. It's great to have on hand, and you can find it in any Indian grocery store.

Fruity Booty: What to Do With 25 Pounds of Apples

"I need you to think of what we can do with 25 lbs of apples."

This was the text message I received from Karl last Friday as I was on my way to have one last relaxing day at the pool before really settling in to my law school routine. What followed was a conversation on the phone, somewhat miffed on my part and unrelentingly jubilant on his, about where he had come by a garbage-bag full of apples, just who was going to peel and cut up all those darn things, etc.

Of course, I never really felt too annoyed that he had acquired so much free fruit. He had discovered an apple tree on Duquesne University's campus and simply helped himself.

A couple of days later, we both sat down (I was still pretending to be grudging about my assistance) and started peeling with the intention of making a big pot of applesauce. We had also scored some $1-per-pound strawberries at Stan's in the Strip District of Penn Avenue that were just past their peak (but all the sweeter for it), so we were also planning to make a strawberry-applesauce.

Making apple sauce couldn't be simpler...well, unless you prefer what I call "baby food" applesauce, which has the silky smooth texture. If you like chunky apple sauce, all you need to do is chop up your peeled apples, throw them in a large pot with a few inches of water, and cook away until they are soft. Add a little salt and the spices you like to taste (we added lots of cinnamon and a few pinches of nutmeg) and you are on your way! We used a potato masher to help break down our apples, but some apples, I am told, will simply break down on their own. If you have sweet apples like we did, you probably don't need to add much, if any, sugar. Tarter apples can handle more sugar (Disregard the latter two sentences if you like your applesauce super sweet). We added about 1/2 cup of dark brown sugar, which gave our applesauce a lovely golden brown color.

For the strawberry apple sauce, we sliced up the strawberries and began cooking them down separately from the apples. Then, when the strawberries and apples were soft, we added a few cups of the soft apples to the strawberries. We also added a little brown sugar to this, but I don't think we needed it. No spices necessary either! I must say, of the two, the strawberry applesauce is my favorite. We made buckwheat pancakes the next morning and put the strawberry applesauce on them, and wow, was that delicious!

We also set aside a good number of apples to make an apple cake (recipe courtesy of Karl's mother) and an apple pie. I haven't made the apple pie yet, and I may mix in some apples from the store because, though these apples from Duquesne are as sweet as sweet can be, they are completely devoid of any acidity. For my tastes, a little tartness in an apple pie is absolutely vital. I also felt that the applesauce was a bit lacking for this reason, but it still tasted great. There's nothing like "free" to make something taste better (I'm starting to sound like my sometimes freegan sister!).

The apple cake turned out wonderfully. I got to use my bundt cake pan finally (I have had the darn thing for 5 years and I've never once used it until this week). We put it out for my and my roommate Ruchi's No-Meat-Week potluck/recipe exchange extravaganza, and everyone who made it to dessert (we had a lot of food!) and had a piece of cake really enjoyed it. The cake is moist and just sweet enough. My sister said it needed a glaze of some sort (an optional one was included in the recipe, but I decided against using it at Karl's behest), though I had a slice with vanilla ice cream and thought it tasted just heavenly. I'll definitely be adding that recipe to my collection of keepers, and I hope you will give it a try, too, if you are of the baking bent.

Apple Cake
(from the kitchen of Helen Andersen)

1 & 1/6 cup canola oil
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
4 medium-sized apples, sliced fine and roughly chopped
1 cup walnuts, chopped
3 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
2 tsp vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 325˚F.

Mix the oil, sugar, and eggs together, and beat on low speed with electric hand mixer until well-blended. Fold in the apples and chopped nuts. Sift the dry ingredients together in a separate bowl, then and stir in to other ingredients, also adding the vanilla. Grease and flour your baking pan(s). Bake in two 9-inch pans for 35-40 minutes, or 1-13x9 inch pan for 45 minutes. You may also bake in a bundt pan for 35-40 minutes. Test with a toothpick for doneness.

Side Note: I just noticed that Helen's recipe actually says to place your cake batter in a cold oven, set the dial to 325˚F and keep it in there for 45 minutes. I will be trying this method next time!

Glaze (optional)
1/2 cup butter
1 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup evaporated milk
1 tsp vanilla

Melt butter with light brown sugar in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the evaporated milk and allow the mixture to come to a full boil for 5-10 minutes. Turn off the heat, and allow the mixture to cool for a few minutes. Add vanilla and mix well. Frost cake.

What To Do With Too Many Limes

Karl and I bought a ton of limes at Shur-Save in Bloomfield because they were 6 for $1. I suppose you can probably get them even cheaper if you buy them by the 5- or 10-lb bag at CostCo or some other similar store, but we don't have a membership to anything like that.

So, what to do with all these limes?

Well, I decided to keep it simple. I had contemplated trying my hand at lime curd, since lemon curd is so amazing, but I am attempting to watch it with the calories if you know what I mean. (For those of you who don't know, lemon or lime curd traditionally uses quite a few egg yolks and quite a bit of butter....and is absolutely heavenly on a scone with some clotted cream!).

But enough drooling. Instead of slaving over a hot stove making curd, I decided to make limeade.

After reading about a few techniques I discovered through various recipe search engines (check these out! They're great: FoodieView and ProjectFoodie), I decided I'd use the simple syrup method.

The benefits of creating a lime simple syrup are twofold. First, the sugar gets completely dissolved when it goes into solution as the water boils, which means no more sludge at the bottom of your glass (sad news for some, I guess?). Second, you can control how "watered down" each glass of limeade is (to accommodate for varying tastes).

I like my limeade to be much more tart than sweet, so I adapted a recipe for limeade that I saw on many sites which called for 3 cups simple syrup for every 1 cup of lime juice. I cut that ratio to 2 cups simple syrup to 1 cup of lime juice, and it turned out great! There is just no more refreshing way to cool off after a 90˚F day than by sipping on a tall, frosty glass of limeade.

Stay cool everyone!

Limeade Simple Syrup
Yields 3 cups syrup

1 cup fresh-squeezed lime juice, seeds removed (it took me about 7 limes to yield one cup of juice)
1 cup sugar
1 cup water

Place the sugar and water in a sauce pan. Bring to a boil, stirring, until the sugar dissolves completely. Pour the hot mixture into a heat-resistant container with the lime juice and stir. Allow to cool, then refrigerate.

That's it! When you are ready for a frosty glass of limeade, put a couple of of ice cubes in a tall glass and fill 3/4 of the way with the lime simple syrup. Top it off with cold water.

Alternatively, you could top off your limeade simple syrup with some sparkling water or club soda. Or add some gin, vodka, tequila, or rum for an adult twist. Use your imagination!

Fresh Blueberry Pie

Apparently, my unconscious goal for the summer has been to make a pie per week. I indulged Karl the week before July 4th by making another strawberry rhubarb pie, then he requested that I make an apple pie for a July 4th picnic (very American, right)? Last week was the week of trying something new: blueberry pie made without opening a can of pie filling.

Blueberries were on sale at Giant Eagle for 2 pints for $5 (a pretty good deal considering that they usually run at least $4 per pint), so I figured it was a good time to experiment. I dusted off my trusty pie cookbook, 365 Great Pies You Can Bake (which was only dusty from having recently been floured for rolling out pie dough along with the rest of the kitchen table), and set to work.

I learned something about blueberry pie: blueberries, when cooked, don't taste like much. I kept wondering why the recipe called for lemon juice, lemon zest, and mace (I substituted allspice). Fresh blueberries are so delightful, but you will notice that they are not very acidic like most berries and fruits. I hypothesize that this lack of acidity is what causes the flavor of blueberries to diminish instead of increase when intense heat is applied.

I would certainly be interested to know if there is a trick to "brightening" the flavor of blueberry, or intensifying it. Usually lemon does the trick, but I honestly felt the lemon just blanketed the blueberries and hid their flavor.

Anyway, I obviously wasn't wild about the blueberry pie, because it just tasted far to lemon-y to me. Karl did not agree. I'm pretty sure that he has never met a [fruit] pie he wouldn't eat or rave about, so all's well that ends well.

Next time, I also intend to add a little more flour (I've reflected this in the recipe below) because the juices didn't quite thicken enough.

Any suggestions for my next pie?

Blueberry Pie
Yields 1 9-inch pie

Your favorite double-crust recipe
3/4 cup sugar, plus 1/2 to 1 TBSP for dusting
4 TBSP flour
1 tsp allspice
1 TBSP lemon juice
1/2 TBSP lemon zest
2 pints fresh blueberries, stems removed
2 TBSP butter, cut up in small pieces

Preheat the oven to 425˚F.

Roll out the bottom crust.

Mix the sugar, flour and allspice together. Add the lemon juice, zest, and blueberries, and gently mix (without crushing the berries) to completely coat the berries. Pour the blueberry mixture into the pie shell.

Dot the top of the blueberry mixture with the cut up butter.

Roll out the top crust. I cut mine into strips to make a lattice-top pie, but you could just cover the top if you like. If you do, remember to poke some holes in the top to vent. Sprinkle the top crust with 1/2 to 1 TBSP of sugar

Bake for 10 minutes at 425˚F, then lower the heat to 350˚F and bake for 30 minutes more.

Baking Frenzy: Lemon Meringue Pie

Thanks for coming back! I know I haven't updated in a few weeks, thanks to law school finals taking over my life, but I never stopped baking! For one thing, I had to finish up the last two installments of the auction's "Month of Pie" lot for the winning bidder. His last two pie choices were cherry and lemon meringue.

I never liked lemon meringue pie growing up. I think the texture of meringue didn't sit well with my untrained palate, and the lemon pudding part was never very lemony. I now know that my mother used a mix for the pudding, and after last week's hugely successful first attempt of my own at making one, I also know that making your own filling from scratch makes an unbeatable lemon meringue pie.

I dug up a recipe from a FoodieView search for lemon meringue pie, and I actually followed it to the letter for once, unless you count doubling it so I could have a "control" pie. I'm not sure what the ginger snaps really added to the final product, so this weekend, when I bake another pie for my mom, I might leave them out.

My favorite part of the process was making the lemon filling. When you're cooking the solution of water, sugar, cornstarch and salt on the stovetop, it's a milky white soupy liquid right up until it starts to boil. Then it magically transforms into a clear, thick gelatin. If you are using a nonstick saucepan, I highly recommend that you have a good silicon or heat-resistant whisk that is not flimsy. It needs to be able to stir a thick solution. I actually had to switch to my steel whisk after the solution thickened, which is definitely a no-no with nonstick cookware!

One final tip: squeeze your own lemon juice! One lemon should do it, and, really, you need the zest from that lemon or your lemon meringue pie will fall flat (and I am not talking about the meringue). My favorite juicer for citrus is one of these gadgets. They're about $12 on Amazon.com, but I have seen them pretty cheap in other kitchen stores. They make juicing lemons MUCH easier than spraining your wrists on the old fashioned kind.

For tips on how to make a meringue successfully, check out this helpful website at WhatsCookingAmerica.net. Granted, the following recipe creates a much heavier, denser meringue due to the extra sugar and vanilla extract, so don't expect it to be a mile high...but it will taste amazing if you follow the instructions!

Lemon Meringue Pie
Yields 1 9-inch pie

Use your favorite pie crust recipe and pre-bake in a 9-inch pie pan. To blind-bake, line the top of the crust with parchment paper and fill shallowly with dried beans or baking beads. Allow to cool while you make the filling and meringue.

Filling:
1 1/2 cups sugar
6 TBSP cornstarch
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups cold water
4 large egg yolks
1 TBSP lemon zest (one lemon)
2 TBSP unsalted butter
1/4 cup lemon juice (one lemon)
3 ginger snaps, finely crushed

Meringue:
1/3 cup sugar
8 tsp confectioner's sugar
4 large egg whites, at room temperature
1/2 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Sprinkle the crushed ginger snap cookies evenly across the bottom of the pie crust.

Preheat the oven to 400˚F.

In a medium sauce pan over medium heat, stir the sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Whisk in the cold water. Bring the mixture to a boil (increase the heat to medium high if necessary), whisking almost constantly. This should take about 5-8 minutes. Once the mixture comes to a boil, lower the heat to medium low and allow to cook for another minute, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk the egg yolks well. Add a small amount of the hot sugar solution to the egg yolks while whisking. Repeat several times (this helps to temper the egg yolks so they won't scramble). Slowly pour the egg yolk mixture into the saucepan, whisking to combine. It is important not to overmix at this point, so cook about another minute while stirring slowly, then remove from the heat.

Using a wooden spoon, stir in the lemon zest and the butter. When the butter has melted, stir in the lemon juice until just combined. Pour the mixture into the pie crust shell.

While the mixture is still hot, quickly make the meringue. Mix the sugar and confectioner's sugar in a small bowl. In a large stainless steel bowl, use a hand mixer to beat the egg whites on medium speed until they are frothy. Continue beating and add the cream of tartar, then increase the speed to medium high. Beat until the egg whites form firm peaks but still appear shiny and wet. Then gradually (while continuing to beat), add the sugar mixture a tablespoon at a time over the course of 1 minute. I find it helpful to have someone help me at this point so I don't lose control of the bowl or the mixer. After the sugar is completely incorporated, add the vanilla. Beat for 30 seconds to 1 minute longer, until the whites are thick and glossy and form firm peaks. Do not overbeat!

Use a large spoon to drop the meringue in mounds around the edge of the lemon filling, then fill in the center. Use the back of your spoon to spread the meringue around. Make sure the meringue is spread out completely to the edges of the crust so that it forms a complete seal (this will help prevent weeping). Do not allow any part of the pie to be uncovered.

I also recommend using the back of the spoon to form decorative little peaks (or spikes) with the meringue. This not only creates the classic presentation of lemon meringue pie, but serves the useful purpose of indicating when your meringue is perfectly cooked (the peaks bake faster than the rest, so they turn brown more quickly).

Immediately place the pie into the oven for 6-8 minutes, or until the peaks are turning golden brown.

Cool completely before serving. I also recommend keeping the pie in a draft-free, somewhat warm area (above 65˚F), since cold air can cause your meringue to flatten out.

DO NOT REFRIGERATE! Refrigeration is death to meringue. Instead, eat your pie within two days, and you won't have to worry about spoiling.

Fruit Fancy: Lemon Plums

A couple of weeks ago, while at the local Market District Giant Eagle (grocery store), I spotted a new, bright-yellow addition to the usual mounds of plums, peaches, and nectarines. The sign said "Lemon Plums" ($2.49/lb), and described them as a very rare fruit. The color was a little more fluorescent than a lemon's, but the bottom of the plums did have that nubby shape that is characteristic to both ends of the lemon. I bought one to satisfy my curiosity, especially since they weren't any more expensive than regular old tree-ripened black or red plums (makes you wonder how rare they really are!).

The sign said that, as the plum ripened, its brilliant lemon-yellow color would gradually turn to a pretty red hue. So I waited. And waited. I waited for over a week. FINALLY, the plum did start to turn red. It was actually rather a stunning display, as if the plum were in the midst of a slow-motion blush. I knew the plum was finally ripening by the actual firmness.

When Karl and I finally tasted it, we decided that yes, it was delicious, but it didn't really taste much different from a regular plum. Maybe for this time of year, it tastes sweeter than most plums, but we did wait almost 10 days for the thing to ripen.

Incidentally, I cannot find anything about this fruit on the internet. Weird, right? Even Wikipedia's article on Plums doesn't mention this particular "cultivar" ("a plant variety that has been produced in cultivation by selective breeding," according to my MacBook dictionary).

So, if anyone knows anything about this mysterious fruit, do tell!

Valentine's Day Extravaganza: Plum Tart

Today is the day! Karl and I will be celebrating the Dia de Amor in high fashion this evening (since the middle of the week didn't work for us). Instead of going to a fancy restaurant, we decided it would be more special to stay home and cook up some of our favorite foods that we don't get very often. Ok, so that just means lamb and a fancier-than-usual bottle of wine. The other trimmings are red potatoes, brussell sprouts, and green beans. Yum! I can't wait!

For dessert, I wanted to do something special, so a couple of weeks ago, I asked Karl what he'd like, and he said "How about a plum tart?"

So, I got out my trusty "365 Great Pies You Can Bake" cookbook (which hasn't failed me yet), and found a recipe. I baked it this morning, and, as you can see from the photos, it is just beautiful!

I did make a few changes to the recipe: first, I used Grand Marnier instead of brandy, since I had Grand Marnier on hand. Second, the ratio of graham cracker crumbs to butter was a bit off in the recipe, so I added about a cup of graham cracker crumbs so the crust wouldn't be soggy. And third, the recipe called for 2 TBSP butter for the filling, but never specified at what point to add it...so I just left it out. I imagine the butter was supposed to be dotted over the top of the tart, but I wasn't sure. I doubt it will make too much of a difference.

I can't wait to have a slice tonight after Karl and I have indulged in Burgundy-Pepper-marinated leg of lamb (from Trader Joe's at $5.99/lb) and a hopefully delicious French wine (2005 Domaine des Ouches Cabernet Franc from the Loire Valley, $17.99). I will update later when I have had a chance to taste the tart. Judging from the heavenly aromas, I won't have any complaints!

Update: The plum tart was delightful. Next time, I won't use a graham cracker crust, although it certainly is a delicious complement to the plums. The problem is that the crust simply doesn't hold up as a tart shell. So, maybe I just need to figure out how to make a more compact crust that will hold up. Karl and I ended up eating more of a cobbler than a tart since the crust just didn't hold up.

I also will probably make sure the plums are a few days riper. It's kind of hard this time of year to get good plums, but I think a hint more sweetness would have been delicious with the tartness of the underripe plums. So maybe adding a little bit of sugar to less-ripe plums would work, too. Still, a GREAT tart that I will be making again.

Plum Tart

Crust:
3 cups graham cracker crumbs, finely crushed
3/4 cup butter, melted

Filling:
2 cups plums, sliced thinly (about 7 good sized plums)
3/4 cup apricot jam
2 TBSP Grand Marnier or brandy
1/3 cups hazelnuts, chopped coarsely

Preheat oven to 375˚F. Mix the graham cracker crumbs and the butter, and press tightly into an ungreased tart pan. Bake for 8 minutes.
Cool completely.
Arrange plum slices in tight, concentric circles in the tart shell. In a small saucepan over low heat, combine the apricot jam and Grand Marnier until it just begins to bubble. Drizzle the hot jam mixture over the plums. Sprinkle the nuts on top of the tart. Bake in 375˚F oven for 20-25 minutes. Serve lukewarm.

Note: Don't refrigerate this tart: apparently, it doesn't hold up well in the refrigerator.

HoneyBells: Oranges Extraordinaire

I don't usually enjoy oranges: they're often dry, pithy, and slightly bitter. The cheaper ones you get in the grocery store have more seeds to deal with than flesh. Peeling them barehanded is a nightmare after which the scent of oranges follows you for days.

Enter the HoneyBell orange into my life: so juicy, almost seedless, very little pith, and low acidity. And look how cute it is!

The catch? They're only available during January and February, and, unless you live in Florida, you must order them from Honeybell.com (or possibly some other online fruit distributors).

Karl and I got lucky. His parents sent him a care package of these delightfully succulent oranges, so we have been devouring them for the past couple of days. The oranges are delicately sweet and so juicy! The lack of acidity is the best part: there is none of that mouth-puckering sourness that often accompanies oranges these days.

Perhaps the secret is that HoneyBells are not actually oranges at all (fooled you!). According to the informative pamphlet that arrived with the care package, HoneyBells are actually the result of cross-breeding Duncan grapefruits and Dancy tangerines. Now that is one science experiment I can get behind!