Company-perfect pork

 

I’m having fun revisiting some dishes that I used to make when I was feeding four teenagers. Is thirty years old enough to make a recipe retro? Not too long ago I did a tuna casserole for a friend who had fond memories of that dish from his childhood. Now he wants chicken divan, and I’m looking forward to fixing that. But both dishes have ingredients that are not on the Burton-approved list—tuna for all, and broccoli for Christian.

On the other hand, the other night I fixed pork medallions in a creamy tarragon sauce—everyone cleaned their plates and, far as I could tell, liked it. But what was most fun was that as I was cooking, Jordan said, “That smells familiar.” I think it was the tarragon, which is not an herb we use often.

I can’t even tell how old this recipe is. The original was so fragile that I photocopied it—and lost the source and date. But not the headline that bills it as quick! and company perfect! The recipe calls for one and a quarter lbs. of pork tenderloin—and right there we have a problem. For this family of four, with a teenage boy who grows daily before our eyes, one is not enough. And two is too much. The other night, I cooked two, and we had six pieces left over—great for lunch the next day.

Here’s what I did:

Pork medallions with tarragon sauce

1-1/4 lbs. pork tenderloin

1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard

2 Tbsp. butter

Salt

½ c. beef broth

½ tsp. dried tarragon

½ c. half-and-half

Pepper

           First, slice the tenderloin into medallions. I didn’t do this, but I think if you could start with them slightly frozen, they would be easier to slice. The silver “skin” on tenderloins is particularly difficult and may require scissors. Cut the tenderloin into 1-1/2 inch pieces and flatten slightly.

Coat one side of each piece lightly with the mustard (best to put that Tbsp. of mustard into a small dish so that you are not dipping a knife, fresh from raw meat, back into the jar and contaminating all the mustard).

Melt 2 Tbsp. butter in skillet and add medallions, mustard-side down. Sprinkle meat with salt. Reduce heat to medium and cook five minutes. Using tongs, turn each piece and cook another five minutes. Remove meat from skillet and keep warm.

Add beef broth and tarragon to drippings in the pan. Scrape to loosen all the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Cook until broth is reduced by about half. Add half-and-half. Recipe says simmer until slightly thickened, but it never will thicken much. Next time I think I’ll dissolve ½ tsp. corn starch in a tiny bit of cold water and add to the sauce, stirring over low heat until it thickens. The flavor as we had It was great, but I prefer a more gravy-like sauce with the meat. Return meat to skillet, add pepper to taste, and heat gently. Do NOT let it boil or your sauce will curdle.

We served this with noodles and salad, but it would also be good with Christian’s green beans.

Christian’s green beans

4 slices bacon – reserve grease

2 cans cut green beans, or equal amount of fresh, washed and trimmed of ends and strings

Cider vinegar to taste

Fry the bacon until crisp. Drain on paper towel. Leave the grease in the skillet. Dump in the drained green beans and heat. Splash with cider vinegar—about a Tbsp. Taste and add more if needed. Crumble bacon over beans, stir and serve.

Confession: I forgot to take a picture—and the medallions looked so good in the skillet. The picture above is for the algorithms and approximates what our dinner looked like but without the sauce.

Lock your car doors!

 

We have what I call “night visitors” in my neighborhood—people who visit driveways in the wee hours of the morning, testing car doors to see if they’re locked. So when I read a warning about locking car doors and telling your neighbors to do so, I took it seriously—at first. But it morphed into that old joke that if you don’t lock your car this time of year, your neighbors will slip in zucchini and squash from their over-abundant gardens. It’s true. This is the time of year when the supply is inexhaustible. So here are two more recipes that I really like, these for side dishes rather than the main entrée.

If you remember eating at a Black-eyed Pea restaurant, you no doubt remember the squash casserole. (I used to love the vegetable plate at those restaurants and was really sad to see the last one disappear from Fort Worth—there are apparently still two in Arlington TX.) The squash casserole is one of those dishes I tried too many times to make without a recipe, overly confident that I could achieve the same results. It was always too soupy or had too much bread filling. I finally gave up and followed a recipe. This may not be the Pea version, but it’s close.

Summer Squash casserole

1 lb. yellow summer squash, chopped

¼ c. water

¼ c. diced onion

2 Tbsp. butter, divided use

½ tsp. salt

1 egg, beaten

¼ c. dry breadcrumbs

Pepper to taste

½ c. shredded cheddar cheese

Bring squash and water to boil in a saucepan. Simmer, covered, for about fifteen minutes. Remove from heat and set aside. Drain if necessary. Meantime, sauté onion in one Tbsp. butter until soft and slightly caramelized. Add to squash. When the squash is cool, stir in the egg, breadcrumbs, remaining Tbsp. of butter (melted) and pepper. Spoon mixture into a small baking pan and cover with grated cheese. Bake, uncovered, at 350 for 20-30 minutes until heated through and cheese is melted.

This zucchini casserole could almost be called a variation of the same recipe. Although it calls for Parmesan, I’m confident you could substitute cheddar if you wished.

Zucchini casserole

3 c. sliced zucchini

¼ c. sour cream

1 Tbsp. butter, melted

1 Tbsp. grated Parmesan

¼ tsp. each salt and paprika

1 beaten egg yolk

1 Tbsp. chives or finely chopped tops of green onions

Topping:

2 Tbsp. breadcrumbs

3 Tbsp. Parmesan

½ Tbsp. melted butter

Steam squash to the degree of tenderness you want, remembering it will cook more when baked. (If you like crunchy slices, you might want to leave it raw.) Mix sour cream. Melted butter, Parmesan, salt and paprika and heat until cheese melts. Let mixture cool a bit and then stir in beaten egg yolk and chives or green onion. Mix with zucchini slices. Spoon into buttered baking dish

Mix topping ingredients and spread evenly over the casserole. Bake uncovered at 350 for 30 minutes or until topping is browned.

Share with the neighbor who gave you the zucchini!

Those ubiquitous summer squashes

Stuffed half zucchini
That was one big squash!

My family was out of town most of last week, so of course I planned to cook the things they won’t eat. And high on that list are summer squash and zucchini. Personally, I think they haven’t explored the many possibilities of this summer bounty. They say it’s a texture matter, and if all they’ve ever tasted is steamed squash, I’m with them. (I don’t really think they’ve tasted at all—they’re just assuming they won’t like them; winter squash gets the same scorn, so I pass up all those good recipe for butternut and acorn squash.)

I had found a recipe online for zucchini stuffed with a tuna mixture. Since I had recently ordered a case of tuna—yep, twenty-four cans—I saw this as a win/win situation and included one large zucchini on my grocery order.

When I started to work with the recipe, I realized amounts were given in the metric system, mostly grams. I didn’t feel like spending an hour or more translating grams into cups and spoons, etc. So I scrapped the recipe and stuffed the zucchini the way I have always done it, but added tuna for more protein. Here’s what I did:

Ingredients

1 large zucchini

1 stalk celery, diced

3 green onions, diced

1 Tbsp butter

One 6 oz. can tuna in water

2 or 3 anchovy filets, (optional)

Salt and pepper to taste

½ tsp. thyme (optional)

One egg, beaten

1/4 cup grated sharp cheddar, plus more for topping

Panko

Ritz cracker crumbs

Parboil the zucchini. The one I had was so large, I used a deep skillet with a lid, because it wouldn’t fit whole in a saucepan. Do not trim the ends—keep all those good vitamins by cooking it whole. Leave it a bit firm as it will soften more during baking. Remove from water with tongs and let cool.

Meanwhile, sauté celery and onion in butter until soft. Remove from heat and stir in anchovy, mashing it into a paté. Add to tuna.

When zucchini is cool enough to handle, cut in half lengthwise and scoop out the meat in the center. This is easiest done by running a knife along the edge of the meat and then scooping it up with either a flat knife or a teaspoon. Dice the meat and add to tuna mixture.

Season to taste with salt and pepper and thyme, if using. Stir into tuna. Add egg and cheese. Stir to mix thoroughly and then add enough panko to hold the mixture together and give it body. Stuff into zucchini shells and top with more grated cheese and cracker crumbs. I prefer Ritz because they crumble so easily in a baggie, and they are so rich and good. Watching calories? You might prefer crushed saltines or more breadcrumbs.

Two hints: The zucchini halves will be overflowing with stuffing, and you’ll have to press the cheese and crumbs on to get them to stay. And you’ll have filling—just put it in a ramekin. It’s delicious, even outside the zucchini shells.

This will make a generous entrée for two with that ramekin left over for lunch.

If you’re a gardener and growing zucchini, this is the time of year when you leave anonymous bags of the vegetable on the neighbors’ porch or in their unlocked car. You’re probably tired of zucchini bread and zucchini fritters may not appeal. Try sautéing it, either sliced or grated, in butter with a good glug of soy sauce. Or look on the internet for zucchini bites or crisps—they’re a bit labor intensive but so good.

Those happy summer days of eating from the garden—or the farmers’ market—are almost over. Enjoy them while you can!

Something’s fishy

 

An embarrassingly amateurish photo
of filet of sole with asparagus

My family recently announced that they were ready to widen their menu horizons with the addition of some fish other than salmon, which we love and eat often. They mentioned halibut, which is expensive, and I’ve never successfully cooked. I think I have an awful memory of my mother poaching halibut in milk, but then, she would have been first to tell you she was not a good fish cook.

Tilapia is popular, but I will not cook it—and I am surprised to see it on upscale restaurant menus, where I feel the owner/chef should know better. Plain and simple: tilapia is bad for you. Because it is bottom-feeder and will eat any refuse, it causes inflammation and is particularly dangerous for patients with any of the auto-immune diseases, which seem to be more common every day. Tilapia is generally farm-raised, contains more toxic chemicals, is fed a synthetic diet, sometimes artificially colored.

A filet of sole is one of my favorite fish—mild with a delicate flavor. But it is also fragile. I’ve sauteed it for the family, trying for a nice crust, and more often than not ended with fish hash. So they said, “No more.” But one night recently it was to be dinner on your own, so I got a half pound of sole. About the same time, I saw a recipe for parmesan-crusted, lemon pepper tilapia. Great, I could just substitute sole. But the more I thought about it, the less appealing that recipe was. I don’t use lemon pepper—plain salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon for me, thank you. Lemon pepper, again, is full of preservatives and things I don’t want to know about. And the idea of pressing parmesan into that delicate fish was challenging.

Two things I took away from the recipe: Bake the fish rather than sautéing it, and spread with a thin layer of mayonnaise to keep the fish moist and fix the parmesan to it. I decided against the mayo because I like the flavor of sole so much (but I will try the mayo trick with cod, and I hear it works on pork chops). So here’s what I did;

Baked filet of sole

Sole filets, about 1/3 lb. per person

Salt and pepper

Buttered panko or other breadcrumbs

Parmesan cheese

Line baking pan with foil and lay the fish out on it. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Top with breadcrumbs and some parmesan. Bake at 350 for 8-10 minutes (the filets are quite thin, and you don’t want to dry them out). Serve with lemon wedges. For a side, I sauteed some tiny, fresh asparagus in butter with a splash of soy.

Jordan came along and ate one of the four pieces I cooked. I ate two and had one for lunch today—it was just as good as last night, maybe better. In retrospect, though, I think I’d leave out the parmesan and just use the breadcrumbs.

So what fish will I cook for the family? I’m not sure. Cod and ocean perch are reasonably priced choices, though I’d probably stick with cod. It’s versatile, and you can do a lot with it. Branzino, or sea bass, is another good choice—hmmm, wonder if I could sell them on a whole roasted fish? If it has the head on, Jordan will have nothing to do with it, but I could have the fishmonger trim head and tail. I’ll watch for sales on halibut or red snapper or trout. And I bet more salmon will appear on our table—Christian loves to grill it.

Don’t be afraid of cooking fish. Remember one cardinal rule: overcooking it is a sin.