A Culinary Salute to Our Armed Forces

 What’s cooking? Grilled Pork Tenderloin with Orange Marmalade Glaze

A terrible photo of my Dad but I love the determination and excitement in his face.

Memorial Day.

It was always a special day for my dad, who was a pilot in World War II and treasured his memories of the men and women who served with him but never made it home. He was a big crier, so we never really got many stories about his experiences in the service. He’d start a story, then tear up, and never get finished. Start again, tear up again, and ... you get the picture. He spent time in Marrakesh, flying reconnaissance missions, and back in the U.S., he taught Chinese pilots to improve their skills on U.S. aircraft. I have a wonderful letter from one of those pilots, saying how honored he and his fellow pilots were to be taught by my Dad. So I think of Memorial Day as a day to honor him, too.

My father also enjoyed grilling anything, so I think he’d love today’s pork tenderloin recipe I discovered. As in many aspects of his life, Dad lived large, so his enthusiasm for grilling usually produced meat with a bit of char. “A little charcoal is good for you,” he’d always claim. But I don’t recommend that approach with this recipe.

In fact, the best thing you can do with this recipe is to avoid cooking the pork too long. According to the National Pork Board, today’s pigs are bred to be much leaner than in the past, so that medium-rare is now a preferred doneness for tenderloins if you want to maximize juiciness and flavor. Those qualities come at an internal temperature of 145-150º. So you are well advised to use a good meat thermometer.

I found this recipe in a search for something simple to do with the pork tenderloins my prince brought home from Costco one day. As a little unsolicited plug for that store, I will say that their meat and fish tend to be exceptional without regard to the price. That’s because they do such volume that both meat and fish are very fresh. Of course, you have to be willing to buy more than you might otherwise, but it’s worth sticking some of it into the freezer.

So back to the recipe. You will not believe how flavorful is this sweet-salty marriage of marmalade and honey with the soy sauce. Very umami. And I don’t know of an easier sauce to make – no chopping or slicing or grinding, so it’s ready in 10-15 minutes. You likely have the major ingredients already: marmalade, honey, soy sauce. When I make it for my hubby, we practically fight over the leftovers. To be truthful, we don’t actually fight over the leftovers because I put them in a plastic container and don’t remind him about them. But if I told him about them, we’d have to have a serious discussion about sharing.

My friend, Gail, offered to make this pork dish for a ladies’ luncheon that I was hosting... Ok, so she didn’t offer. But when I asked, she was very gracious. (My friends are so kind that when I have what I call “a suggestion,” they just smile and say “fine.”) The instructions on the original recipe included a note to coat the meat with olive oil before grilling, but Gail forgot that part, recalling it in one of those “OMG!” moments only as she and her hubby were already grilling. Her husband suggested she not tell me. And when she mentioned it to another of the women coming to lunch, that woman also said, “Don’t tell Lee.” So, of course, she told me. This is the problem of being friends with the Kitchen Goddess.

But as it happens, the Kitchen Goddess had made this recipe and also forgot to oil the meat before grilling, and she decided it didn’t really matter, unless you’re really into keeping your grill clean. So I’ll leave that part of the instructions in the writing, but you have now been alerted.

Kitchen Goddess note: If you don’t have a grill, this pork can roast in the oven. The author suggests searing it on the stovetop in a frying pan, to develop a nice Maillard crust on all sides, then putting it in the oven for 15-20 minutes at 400º.  Let it rest about 10 minutes before slicing.

Grilled Pork Tenderloin with Orange Marmalade Glaze

Adapted from Elise Bauer at Simply Recipes 

Total time: 90 minutes, including the marinade time, and you can even cut that short.

Serves 2-3. (Who am I kidding? It serves 2, with enough left over for a small lunch.)

Ingredients

⅓ cup soy sauce (use gluten-free soy sauce for gluten-free version)
⅓ cup orange marmalade (or lemon, store-bought or homemade)*
⅓ cup honey
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon rice wine vinegar 
Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes, or Aleppo pepper
1 pound pork tenderloin
2 scallions, thinly sliced (optional)
Olive oil for the grill (and you’ll remember that this is optional)

*Kitchen Goddess note: You know the Kitchen Goddess already had homemade marmalade. Two flavors, in fact. You are welcome to go buy a nice brand, but if you are so inclined, here are links to two of my faves: Triple Citrus Marmalade and Green Tomato & Lemon Marmalade. You don’t even have to go through the canning process unless you want to make a big batch to store. Make it, put it in jars, then refrigerate what you think you’ll use and give the rest to friends. Trust me, they’ll love you for it.

Directions

First, make the marinade. In a small saucepan, stir together the soy sauce, marmalade, honey, rice wine vinegar, and red pepper flakes. Bring the mixture to a simmer over medium heat. Remove the sauce from the heat and let it cool to almost room temperature. If you are in a hurry – which I always am – you can set the pan in an ice bath for a few minutes and stir until the sauce is just warm.

Set aside half of the marinade to use as a sauce with the finished tenderloin.

Use the remaining half of the marinade to marinate the tenderloin for 1 hour. (Comments on the website suggest that you can reduce the time – if you’re in a hurry – to as little as a half hour.)

Kitchen Goddess note: The Kitchen Goddess prefers the ziploc bag method of marinating: place the meat inside a large ziploc bag, pour the marinade over it, and close the bag, removing as much air as possible in the process. This methodology practically eliminates the mess factor (no cleanup!), reduces the chance of contamination from bacteria in the area (the bags are nonreactive), and it saves room in the fridge.

While the meat marinates, prepare your grill for high direct heat on one side, and low heat on the other.

Remove the tenderloin from the marinade and toss the used marinade. Coat the meat lightly with olive oil. (Or not, remember?) To sear the meat, lay it across the grill, with the larger end of the tenderloin on the hot side of the grill, and the narrower end toward the cool side. After 1-2 minutes, when the grill marks are good on the first side, then roll the meat to another side for another 1-2 minutes. Keep rolling the meat until all sides have been lightly seared.

Once the meat is fully seared, move the entire piece to the low heat side of the grill. Cover and cook a few minutes more, until the internal temperature of the tenderloin reaches 140-145º F (using 145º if you like your meat more well done). I would give you a time frame for this part, but much depends on the heat of your grill, the thickness of your meat, and the skill of your grillmeister.

When the meat has reached the proper temperature, transfer it to a platter or cutting board. Tent the meat with foil and let it rest 5-10 minutes. The meat continues to cook under its little foil tent, so if you’ve gotten the temperature above 140º, go for less resting time.

Slice the meat in ½-inch slices, drizzle on some of the remaining glaze, and sprinkle with the scallions, if you are using them. Serve with rice and a pitcher of the glaze on the side.

And have a happy Memorial Day weekend!

Nerd Alert! It’s the Earliest Spring in 400 Years What’s cooking? Candied Kumquats, Candied Meyer Lemon, and Triple Citrus Marmalade

Kitchen Goddess note: I know I said this post would be up on Friday, but I forgot that the Spring National Bridge Tournament would be running, so instead of writing, I’ve been online watching the play in the prestigious Vanderbilt Knockout Teams. You heard me right – bridge hands. That’s how big a geek I really am.

When you finish reading this post you will know more than you thought possible about the vernal equinox, otherwise known as the First Day of Spring. If you’re not interested (what??!!), you can skip directly to the recipes for citrus. But then you may never know why spring doesn’t arrive on March 21st any more.

You probably already know the vernal equinox is the day when the sun rises exactly in the East and sets exactly in the West, so that daytime and nighttime are very nearly equal. The earth’s tilt on that day is 0º.

Now the wonky factor increases. You certainly know that we correct for minor flaws in the 365-day year by adding in a day to February every four years. So years divisible by 4 are leap years (in addition to being U.S. presidential election years – but let’s not go there today). What you might not know is that years divisible by 100 are not leap years. (Wait – most wonky coming right up.) So no February 29 in 1900 or 1800 or 1700. But if a year is divisible by 400, we get leap day back. That’s why we had one in 2000.

The point here is that solstices and equinoxes do a little bit of creeping ahead throughout each century, and then at the end of the century, the loss of leap day adjusts for the creep by pushing them back. But we didn’t lose the leap day in 2000, so the equinox has kept up its 100-year-old crawl forward. In 1947, for example, the vernal equinox was at 5:12 a.m. on March 21.

This year, depending on your time zone, the first day of spring begins sometime on either Saturday, March 19th (today!), or Sunday, March 20th. For the Universal Time Coordinate (formerly called Greenwich Mean Time), spring begins at 4:30 a.m. on Sunday. For us here in Austin, it starts at 11:30 p.m. tonight, and for my New Jersey daughter-in-law, who has been counting the days since some time in January, the shift happens at 12:30 a.m. on Sunday.

The bottom line? This will be the earliest First Day of Spring since 1896. (And I want to thank the folks at almanac.com, home of The Old Farmer’s Almanac, for all this great information.) Now, aren’t you glad you stopped by?

Citrus Delight

Another really great thing about March is that the season for citrus fruits is still happening. I was in my local fancy grocery store last week and was almost overcome with the fun variations on oranges, lemons, and limes there. Today’s collection includes Meyer lemons (thinner skinned and sweeter than regular lemons, and one of my all-time favorite dessert fruits), sweet limes (larger and thinner skinned than regular limes, and so mild you can eat the skin), and kumquats, which are completely new to me. But it’s my year of eating dangerously, so I decided to try them.

Do you know kumquats? Small, sweet-tart, and tender. Eat them whole, but watch out for the seeds. So I was thoroughly enjoying them raw, but was wondering what I could do to prolong the experience. Then I saw a recipe for candied kumquats. They looked so darling and jewel-like that I had to try it. My, my – they are yummy that way. Add them to your morning yogurt or cottage cheese, spoon them over vanilla ice cream, or add them to a smoothie. I’ve tried it all. And my goal of extending their life in my kitchen is failing miserably, as I keep sneaking into the fridge to spoon a couple out of the jar.

It was a snap to candy the kumquats, so I decided to candy some Meyer lemons, too. Candying citrus is like falling off a log – ridiculously easy. The candied lemon slices look like pieces of stained glass, and they’re terrific in all the same ways as the candied kumquats. And whatever you do, don’t throw away the candying syrup from either fruit. It’s a wonderful addition to tea or with a glass of seltzer, and it’s great in cocktails.

I didn’t candy the sweet limes, but I’m sure they’d be good that way, too. Mostly, I thought the three fruits would have a delicate beauty all together in a marmalade. Plus, I really wanted to add my French ginger liqueur into something. So that’s the third way I dealt with my bounty.

Get out there and – while the season lasts, which for most citrus fruits, is through the end of March – try one of these treatments. The fresh tastes are just the thing to bring spring into your kitchen.

Kitchen Goddess News Flash! Apparently Sam Sifton of The New York Times heard about this post in advance, and has put a piece on caramelized citrus in this week’s Times Magazine. He’s such a copycat. So if you want a slightly different take on candying your citrus, check out his piece. The Kitchen Goddess is quite the trendsetter, don’t you know?

Candied Kumquat Slices

Makes about 1½ cups, plus syrup.

Ingredients
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
15-20 kumquats, sliced and seeded (seeds saved if you plan to make marmalade)


Preparation
In a medium-sized saucepan over medium-high heat, stir together the sugar and the water until the sugar is completely dissolved. Add the kumquat slices and bring the mixture to a boil. Immediately reduce the heat to a simmer and continue to simmer the fruit, stirring occasionally, until the syrup thickens slightly, 10-15 minutes.

With a slotted spoon, remove the kumquat slices to a jar and add enough of the syrup to barely cover. Save the remaining syrup separately. Cool the syrup and kumquat slices before storing in the fridge.

Serve on plain yogurt, cottage cheese, or vanilla ice cream, or try some on bruschetta with goat cheese or an aged gruyère.

Candied Meyer Lemon Slices

Ingredients
2 cups sugar
2 cups water
3 Meyer lemons, thinly sliced and seeded

Preparation
Combine the water and sugar in a medium-sized (10 inches wide) skillet, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Bring the mixture to a boil and add the lemon slices. Reduce the heat and simmer the fruit for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally..

Remove the pan from the heat and allow the lemon slices to cool in the syrup to room temperature. Move the slices to a rack (sprayed with PAM) to dry somewhat. (The slices won’t actually dry, but you can layer them in a plastic container and store them in the fridge.)

Triple Citrus Marmalade

Adapted from Gourmet Magazine, December 1999.

Makes 4-5 cups.

Kitchen Goddess note: This recipe needs a day of rest between assembling and cooking, to let the natural pectin in the seeds do their work.

Ingredients
1½ pounds citrus fruit (I used kumquats, Meyer lemons, and sweet limes)
4 cups water
4-5 cups sugar
1½ teaspoons French ginger liqueur (or whatever flavor you like)

Special equipment: small cheesecloth bag or a piece of cheesecloth with string

Preparation
Slice the fruit thinly (about ⅛ inch wide), and save the seeds in a small dish. For the larger fruit, you may want to quarter the fruit before slicing it.

Put the fruit into a large saucepan with the water. Tie the seeds into a cheesecloth bag and submerge it with the fruit. Cover the pan and leave it for 24 hours at room temperature.

The next day, remove the bag of seeds and squeeze it to get as much of the pectin (that jelly-like substance you’ll find surrounding the bag – it’s what promotes the gelling in the marmalade) as you can into the fruit mixture. I used a lemon squeezer to press it.

Bring the water and fruit to a low boil over medium heat and cook it 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Stir in a cup of sugar per cup of fruit/water, and continue to stir until the sugar dissolves. Bring the mixture back to a boil and cook another 15 minutes.

Test the readiness: While the fruit is cooking, stick a small saucer into your freezer. When the 15 minutes is up, dribble a teaspoon of the mixture onto the plate and let it rest for 2 minutes. If it gels, you’re done. If not, crank the heat back up and cook an additional 5 minutes.

Ladle the mixture into jars. If you want to keep them longer than a couple of weeks, process the jars as you would for any jam or jelly. Take a look here for the Kitchen Goddess’s modus operandi on preserving. Jam or marmalade in properly processed jars will keep at least a year.

Falling in Love Again -- with Tomatoes What’s cooking? Green Tomato and Lemon Marmalade

I didn’t grow up liking fresh tomatoes. In fact, for most of my life, I avoided tomatoes as tasteless and of a texture I didn’t like. And even when farmers’ markets began sprouting up all over New Jersey, I took a pass on the tomatoes.

Then on the trip south to deliver our first born to college, we left a few days early to check out the mountains of the Carolinas, where my husband envisioned retiring. (That would be before I convinced him that we needed to go to Austin.) We found a bed and breakfast that was straight out of a Tennessee Williams story, and I called for reservations. When I told the owner where we were coming from, he said, “New Jersey? I’ll give you a discount if you’ll bring me a cooler of Jersey tomatoes.”

That’s when I began to suspect there was something special about them.