Gonna eat me a hawg!
Tenderloin of pork stuffed with pears and things, in a cider sauce, with rice and vegetables.
So: Today I hit the supermarket, looking for something a bit treaty. Found, for a very modest price, a tenderloin (fillet) of pork just right for me and my lovely supervisor.
Here’s the plan: make a goo from a pear (I was given what transportation companies refer to as a “shitload” of Conference pears), some bread, some sage and a little onion. Cut along the tenderloin to open it up. Stuff it with the goo. Wrap it in streaky bacon, wrap in foil, bake. Take out of the foil, roast for the last few minutes.
I’ll serve the above with Basmati and wild rice, steamed tender stem broccoli, carrots and umm…. peas, I think.
I’ll also make a cider-based sauce to lubricate the whole lot.
Lets get to work:
Recipe for the stuffing (goo)
A note about quantities: I cannot stand precise recipes and I want you to hate them too. I know you are blessed with a brain, so you’ll figure it out… the key is to keep tasting the mixture. If it tastes horrible, you added too much something and you should go and sit down for a little weep. The reason you added too much something is you were not tasting. So taste, taste, taste. And when you add an ingredient, add a little at a time, between tastes. Okay? Right. Lets go!
- Some minced ginger – not too much – the idea is to help amplify the taste of the pears
- Some chopped pear – about half a small pear per serving? Dunno!
- A little bit of white pepper
- Some stale bread crumbs - make some toast if you have no stale bread
- Some finely chopped onion - not too much – there should be more pear than anything
- Some sage
- Some salt
- Some lemon juice - don’t kill off the pear taste!
Blitz the above or just go psycho on it with a knife (and your fists if you like. Film it an put it on YouTube if you really want to push the boat out) till its a rough , sticky consistency
Recipe for the meat.
Slice along the length of the fillet, opening it up. Pretend you are a surgeon. Wear a pair of skimpy panties over your face to simulate a surgical mask. (Make sure the neighbours cannot see). Work accurately and occasionally give out curt commands to your wife, dog or girl/boyfriend, thus: “Knife!…. Scissors!… Clamps…”
Once the fillet is open, get the goo (“Nurse! Wake up! Goo please!”) and spread it along the length of half the inside. You should end up with a layer about 5mm thick. Season with a bit of salt and pepper. Set the fillet aside and get some foil. Tear off about 40cm of foil and lay it flat, shiny side down.
Now get your streaky bacon and lay the strips down side by side on the foil, overlapping each other by about a third. When you’ve done this, carefully lay the fillet over the strips. Now comes the fiddly bit.
Roll the fillet back together again so that it wraps round the goo. Then fold the bacon over so that the whole thing is bacon wrapped, then wrap the foil around the whole lot and twist the ends so you have a nice, neat, plump bacon “sweetie”. Put that on a plate and chuck it into the fridge (you can pretend you’re putting the dead body of one of your patients into the morgue, if you want). Two hours in the fridge will help settle the whole thing and I’m guessing some of the pear flavour will be absorbed by the meat.
Put this lot in the oven (200 degrees C) about 30 – 40 minutes before you serve. After baking in the foil for 15 – 20 minutes, remove the foil and bake in the open heat. If you are really brave and have a steady hand, drizzle a tiny-weeny amount of maple syrup over the bacon. Just a few drops, mind or you’ll hate your food forever.
You’ll want to remove your bacon from the oven after about 7-10 minutes cooking without the foil and about 10 minutes before serving. Put it on a warm plate and cover it with foil to rest. This will allow some of the juice to be reabsorbed. Then slice it into half inch slices, admiring your beautifully cooked goo. Put it on a plate and add the vegetable and rice.
The sauce
- 1 chopped pear
- Some pulverised ginger
- 1 chopped onion
- Some cider (pear cider might be best)
- Some cider vinegar (go easy!)
- Some vegetable stock
- Some white pepper
- Some black pepper
- Some sage
- Some mustard powder
Fry off the onion with the ginger (in butter is probably best, especially if you are working diligently towards your first myocardial infarction) till it starts to brown. Add in the mustard powder and a splash of cider to de-glaze the pan – stir like a mad bitch. Add the vegetable stock, more cider and all the other stuff and once it all comes to the boil, turn it down and let it all simmer and reduce a bit. Have a taste. Adjust with salt, cider vinegar or water – just a little at a time. You don’t need gallons of the sauce. Drink some of the cider to make sure you don’t end up with a sauce lake. If necessary, thicken with a little flour-water goo or (I love these) thickening granules.
When the sauce is ready to be served, drain it through a sieve into a hot jug – you should end up with a pale, but very tasty thick, but still runny liquid…
The Rice.
- Some rice – about half a mug per person
- Some rapidly boiling water
- Some salt
- Some vegetable stock
Follow the instructions on the packet, but adding (d’oh!) the vegetable stock to the rapidly boiling water before adding the rice to (once again) rapidly boiling water.
The Veg.
- Some broccoli
- Some peeled carrots. Use those sexy small ones.
- Some peas. From the freezer.
Steam all of the above for 5 minutes over rapidly boiling water.
If you decide to try this recipe, please let me know how it went. If it was a disaster, it will clearly be nothing to do with me!!!
I hear you Barbara…people keep asking me for my recipes but there isn’t one. I take an idea and adapt and use what I have at the time. If there’s lots of pears and only one pair of chicken lips then that’s the quantity. Next time we might have more lips in stock and a bit low on the ginger…I’ll adapt and spice it up a bit with chilly…who knows..it’s so exciting.
A tasty dish to serve before discerning friends.
Halleluyah for non-precise quantities! Anyone who can cook does not need to be told half a cup of this, quarter teaspoon of that. Everyone’s taste is different. One should be able to judge quantities by look, instinct, smell – and most of all taste. Recipes in books are for ideas and guidelines, not to be followed slavishly.
As to the cider mentioned in the recipe, the same principle applies as when cooking with wine. Some in the cook, some in the pot. If you haven’t tasted the stuff, how can you judge how much to slosh in the pot?