Wednesday, October 17, 2012.
Pork Chops Au Poivre At Last.
Remember those pork chops I bought for dinner last Saturday? Well, Mary Ann has not forgotten about them. Although it's her changes in plans that is to blame for the chops' still being in the butcher's wrapper in the refrigerator, Mary Ann becomes concerned when any food is about to go bad.
Well, they weren't bad, and tonight was the night. I did the radio show from home--I needed to anyway. Wednesday is my busiest day.
The chops were nice-looking, but not as thick as I wanted--only about an inch and a half. Which is why I bought two of them, despite MA's usual protestation that she wanted to eat only a little.
Our recipe is the one I give on the radio all the time. Step One: Put an oversize saucepan (to keep from having a boil-over) over low heat. Add a half-pint of whipping cream and two tablespoons of mixed dried peppercorns. Let that cook until the cream is reduced by about half and the peppercorns are getting a little soft.
Step Two: Season the chops and let them sit with the seasoning for awhile. (Brining would have been a good idea, but the end product didn't suffer for that step's being left out.)
Step Three: Find a wine to go with this. That Kabinett from Schloss Vollrads would do nicely. (Someday we will finish it.) After a sip, it was time for. . .
Step Four: Sizzle some butter in a heavy skillet and plop the pork chops onto the butter puddles. Sear, sear, sear. Meanwhile, turn the oven on to 425 degrees. Turn, turn, turn. (How did the Byrds get in here?) (Turn the chops, I mean.) Sear, sear, sear. (Sears? Who goes there anymore?)
Step Five: When the chops were nicely browned on top and bottom faces, into the oven they went. I removed the pan from the heat and added (from a cup--never the bottle!) two ounces of New Orleans Rum. Whisk, whisk, whisk. Oops! Evaporated a little too fast. Gimme that wine bottle. Glug, glug, glug. (Into the pan, I mean.) Whisk--you know. All the stuff on the bottom of the pan turns the liquid an appetizing brown, which turns to an appetizing tan when I add the cream and peppercorns.
Step Six: Check the chops. Meat thermometer sez 155. Count to ten. Onto the plates they go. And here comes the peppercorn sauce. (Sauce? Two ingredients: cream and peppercorns.)
The chops were great. Even Mary Ann, who--while she gives me high marks for a number of dishes--is still suspicious of anything from my hand that she has not had before. But she even loved my sauce.
Her side dish was basmati rice with lentils and chickpeas, all cooked in a factory somewhere, then packed in a plastic pouch. Nuke, nuke, nuke. Three minutes later, what came out was embarrassingly good. I hate the idea, but love the results.
We ate. We got back to work. The dog Susie loved the pork bones.
To browse through all of the Dining Diaries since 2008, go here.
