Reframing Dinner

I have to tell you, I was not, not, not looking forward to another dinner of plain old pork chops this week. Between the world events and the weather, I'm feeling pissy and those pork chops, although nicely thick with gratifyingly robust tenderloins, just didn't do it for me. I've had enough pork-and-fruit this winter to last me a while.

I needed Cher to come and yell, "Snap out of it!"

I reframed.

I imagined them on a platter instead of a plate. I have no idea why that made things better, but it did. Maybe it was the sharing aspect, or just the slightly more formal-than-normal way of serving? Perhaps it was the play of colors with the platter that made it seem new. Whatever - it was better. It just was.

So, I got to work slicing a smallish kabocha squash in half and setting it, seeds and all, onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Into the oven at 350 for half an hour.

(Worked on the diabolical jigsaw puzzle that my friend Wenirs sent me for my birthday while that got going.)

After the squash was tender when pierced with a sharp knife, I set it aside to cool a bit and sliced a great big onion thinly, sautéing it in a wide pan. Pushed the onion aside when it was clear and laid the chops into the oniony pan to brown.

While the browning was going on (and, incidentally, the onions got brown, too, but slowly, at the edges of the pan), I coaxed the seeds and strings out of the squash with a wooden spoon and scooped out the rest into a small pot with a knob of butter, the zest and juice of a small tangerine and a small thumb of microplaned fresh ginger. While that gently heated and mingled on the back burner, I prepped the broccoli and quickly steamed it.

The standout was the roasted-and-doctored kabocha squash - ginger and tangerine did wonders for it, and a little butter never hurts. The chops were good, too, richly brown on the outside, lightly pink and juicy on the inside, and deeply satisfying on their slippery bed of caramelized onions.

When I brought the platter to the table, My Beloved said, "Ladies first," as he was trained to do as a young man; I selected my portion from the platter and passed him the serving utensils, handles first. Those little acts of politeness reframed the whole meal and reminded us that we are genteel people, the kind of people who remember to say please and thank you. The kind of people who realize how incredibly lucky we are to have this beautiful dinner, this dry and warm house and each other.

Attitude is everything.

Restless

It's not often that I feel restless. I'm usually a very peaceful person, happy to go with the flow, as they say.

Maybe it's that spring is coming. Perhaps it's because winter has lasted a bit too long. Maybe it's because my new volunteer job doesn't start until next week and I have time on my hands. Whatever the reason, I was looking for something new.

Something new to do with my pork roast. I had scored a beautiful, local, organic one from El Cerrito Natural, a really nice little organic grocery store not far from my house, and I wanted to jazz it up, to make it into something deliciously different.

So, I went to the interwebs and did some homework, but nothing seemed really appealing. There are at least twelve pages of recipes on epicurious.com having to do with pork roasts (and about ten recipes per page) but none of them really got my juices flowing. If you can browse through 120 recipes and never find a single one that appeals, you know you are just being silly. So, I decided to invent my own.

That's my pork roast that you can see peeking out here and there, marinated in a mixture of garlic, balsamic vinegar, citrus juices, fresh ginger and thyme, and buried under a boatload of purple cabbage, onion and cauliflorets. All stuff I had in the fridge or outside in the herb pot. A lively mishmash of flavors and colors.

It brought My Beloved to his knees. He kept shaking his head bite after bite and murmuring about how good it was. The roast was juicy and still lightly pink inside, with a tangy outer layer in which the ginger and garlic asserted themselves over the citrus juices, with an aftertaste of thyme bringing up the rear of the parade. Witnessing his pleasure dispelled my restlessness, at least until next week, when I have a job to do and places to go.

Citrus and Ginger Pork Roast with Winter Vegetables

1 pork loin roast, about two pounds

zest and juice of one large orange

zest and juice of one Meyer lemon

1/2" knob of fresh ginger, peeled and pressed in a garlic press, or grated

2 large cloves garlic, pressed

2 Tbs balsamic vinegar

1 Tbs olive oil

2 Tbs fresh thyme leaves

Combine all ingredients except the roast in a blender and whirl for about 30 seconds. Pour marinade over the pork roast and marinate for an hour at room temperature or covered in the fridge for four hours or overnight. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

1/2 head purple cabbage, cored and sliced

1 large onion, sliced

About 1 cup of cauliflower pieces, bite-sized

Mix the veggies together and sprinkle them around the roast in a large roasting pan. Pour the rest of the marinade over the veggies and toss them lightly to distribute*. Slide into the oven and cook until the roast reaches temperature (there is controversy about how cooked is cooked enough with pork - My Beloved and I like it to still be pale pink on the interior, not completely white, so we usually cook it to about 160-170 degrees), about 35-45 minutes, depending on the size and the initial temperature of the meat.

Remove the meat and allow it to rest for about 10 minutes before slicing and serving on top of the veggies.

*If I had an improvement to suggest, it would be to use a roasting pan large enough to allow room for the roast and a shallower layer of veggies. Because I had so many veggies in the pan, the roast didn't brown. A little additional marinade wouldn't hurt, either.

Pear-Ginger-Orange Blooper

Okay, so this is the recipe I started out to bake. Pear Ginger Upside Down Cake. Doesn't that sound delicious?

Cranky had gifted us with a big bag of pears and oranges from his very prolific trees so I was eager to make something pearish and I just happened to see this recipe on one of my favorite food blogs. How's that for great timing?

When I brought out all the ingredients, however, I realized I didn't have molasses. My choice was the run out to the store or to improvise. Not being a huge fan of molasses, anyway, I decided to try substituting real maple syrple, of which I am extremely fond and of which I had plenty. I could just imagine that maple would add a nice note to the pear and ginger flavors in the cake.

Then, I was looking at the oranges that came with the pears and recalling that Cookiecrumb told me that the zest was the best part of their oranges, so I decided to add an orange worth of zest to the topping for the cake. Another improvement!

Later, right after I had loaded all the (fairly stiff - I shoulda known) batter into the cake pan on top of the pears and topping, I realized that I had left out entirely a key ingredient, the buttermilk. Well, um, that is, I didn't have any buttermilk, either, so I was going to substitute kefir that I had on hand but now had forgotten... *sigh* Some days are like that.

Anyway, I could do nothing but slide it into the oven anyway and hope for the best. I did that and checked it frequently as it rose beautifully and turned a lovely golden brown. When the cake tester came out clean, I cooled it a bit, released it from the springform pan and let it cool completely on a rack.

It was simply delicious. One of the best mistakes I've ever made. The pears were firm and sweet; the topping was sweet but not excessively so. There was a nice hint of ginger without being overwhelming and it complemented beautifully both the orange and the pear flavors. Next time, I will remember to add the kefir, as the crumb was tight and slightly dry, more like pound cake than cake-cake, but I will keep the maple syrup and the orange zest in the recipe for sure. I may add zest to the batter, as well.

It was so good that I had to cut it up and give it away to the neighbors to keep us from eating the whole thing. I credit my baking guardian angel with keeping my mistakes from turning this cake into a true blooper.