Pork Loin with Vinaigrette on Romaine

This is a variation on a tasty recipe I found last week in the Indianapolis Star. To my delight, pork loin was also on sale last week, so the creation of this dish was inevitable. There's really no amusing anecdote to accompany this meal, so here it is, plain and simple:

• 1 1/4 pounds pork tenderloin, sliced 1/4" to 1/2" thick (most grocery stores slice it for free)
• 1-2 small shallots, minced
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 Tablespoon lemon juice
• pinch of salt
• pinch of black pepper
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup olive oil, depending on preference
• 1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
• 1 head Romaine lettuce
• crumbled plain feta cheese (you decide how much!)
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup sliced almonds
  
• 2-3 pears, sliced (use your favorite variety)
  

1. Preheat grill to medium. Cook tenderloin for approxiamately 20 to 25 minutes, turning periodically, until cooked to 160 degrees internally. (If using a George Foreman grill, preheat for 10 minutes, cook for a few minutes on each side.) Remove from the grill and let rest for 5-10 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, saute minced shallots and garlic in the olive oil for a few minutes. Add lemon juice, balsamic vinegar, pepper, and salt. Whisk until combined. You will want to whisk this dressing again right before serving, as this combination tends to separate naturally.
   
3. Wash, drain, and tear up lettuce while the meat rests.
4. Toss lettuce, feta cheese, and almonds. Top with the sliced and grilled pork loin and vinaigrette. (The vinaigrette can be served on the side, as suggested, or mixed in with the salad.) Serve with the sliced pears. This meal can also be complimented by a semi-dry white wine, such as Tabor Hill. Bon appétit!
   

Mon Petit Jardin

When we got married and moved into our first apartment, I was so anxious and excited to start my own plants, to create mon petit jardin. I have had opportunities in the past to grow things, but this was the first time that I would be fully responsible for my little plants; mother is not here to water or weed when I forget.
I started simply:

• pots and dirt from my mother
• free packet of wildflower seeds from a Burt's Bees promotion
• morning glory seeds from our wedding favors
• tin buckets from our wedding decorations
• my garden "catuary"/"gnome" Stella; if I can't have a real cat now, I at least have my garden cat statue named Stella
  

After I gathered my materials, I donned my trusty, all-purpose, gardening gloves (which have been used for anything and everything except gardening thus far), and set to work making a dirt-y mess on our apartment balcony. My husband wisely left me to my devices, to make my own organic endeavors while he did some intelligent computer thing. After one cycle of my favorite country music mix, the seeds had been planted, the trellis was set and ready for little glory vines to climb, and Stella was proudly perched next to the mysterious wildflowers and the fragrant basil, watching over my little plantlings.

The morning glories were the first to sprout, quickly shedding their seed shells and are now climbing and winding vigorously all over the trellis, the balcony railing, and sometimes the other plants. We have yet to see them bloom, but I still have hope. The wildflowers are still a mystery...my husband says they look like weeds, and as they still have no blooms and I have no wildflower knowledge, I reluctantly allow that comment. The basil and sage that I have now added are healthy and fragrant; I use them often in my cooking, which is wonderful! (I also recently read an article that mentions basil's wonderful stress-relieving characteristics...no wonder I love to cook with it!) Also, a friend gave me some mint from her flourishing garden variety, which nicely perfumes our balcony and flavors my tea.

My favorite part of the "garden" right now is my tomato corner. I have two tomato plants growing, one USDA organic-certified and the other commercially grown. Secretly, I want to find out which plant fares better and make my organic vs. non-organic argument to my husband then. Granted, I gave the organic plant an unfair advantage with a bigger pot and more dirt, so I guess I've already thrown the results. Anywho, both plants are doing fairly well, although our Indiana weather has failed us a bit for the tomatoes...word on the street is that tomatoes need the constant hot, humid weather that our fine state usually provides. On the organic plant, I currently have two actual tomatoes growing, and eight or more yellow buds holding the promise of more tomatoes! I am ridiculously excited each time I see growth on any of my plants!

While I cannot fairly say that I have grown a green thumb, I believe I am on my way. With the space, resources, and experience I have, I'd say I have achieved relative success. I had hoped for a larger variety of herbs to grown, but for now, I am content to wait with anticipation as mon petit potager du tomate et basilic grows into something that can deliciously adorn a toasty turkey sandwich.


Update: the morning glories bloomed!:

Becoming a REAL scrapper...

Sometimes I give myself too much credit...

Those who scrapbook spend lots of time thinking out their projects. They plan out each page carefully and creatively, utilizing souvenirs, pamphlets, precious few photographs, treasured items and so on, to create these sometimes beautiful, sometimes gaudy, but always interesting crafts through which they can look back on, remembering special times, people, places, and events. These are true "scrappers."

Thinking myself crafty, my former use of the term "scrapbooking" was to describe my display of photos from various events in an attempt to catalog my life. Translation? I buy photo albums, stick the pictures in chronological order (mostly), and write a minimal description of the photo in the provided space beside it. This is not real scrapbooking. Actual scrapbooking requires at least the above-mentioned work and predetermination of layout. And to think I dared to call myself a scrapbooker.

So, in an attempt to conserve funds and resources, and due to the creative birthday gift from a dear friend, I decided to venture cautiously into the real world of scrapbooking. Now, I didn't do any actual research or talk to any antiquated women from Minnesota who could be considered natural scrappers (anyone seen the movie New in Town?), but I have seen many examples of more detailed scrapping than my false attempts. Over the course of a weekend, I mauled our living and dining areas with the pages, mementos, stickers, and pictures for the scrapbook. I arranged, pondered, cut, pasted, re-pasted, and sent my husband on more than one trip to get more double-sided tape. At the end of it all, my back hurt, my vision was a bit blurry, and the apartment was a mess (which freaked me out because we were having guests for dinner soon), but the first real scrapbook was finished. And it turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. Will I do it again? Maybe for our first child...

Fettuccine with peas, shallots, and herbs

This turned out to be a surprisingly tasty recipe I found in the June issue of Real Simple magazine. The original recipe is a vegetarian dish, calling for fettuccine, peas, olive oil, shallots, pecorino or Parmesan cheese, parsley, and mint. Not having an unlimited pantry, I substituted a few items (as usual) and added chicken, as my husband appreciates meat with his meals, the dear carnivore =-).
So, I substituted:

• spaghetti for fettuccine
• fewer shallots
• romano for pecorino/Parmesan
• fresh basil for parsley and mint

Obviously, these were not difficult substitutions, but they significantly change the taste of the dish. We both greatly enjoyed the dish, and my husband appreciated the addition of chicken, although it is not a necessary flavor to make the meal.

The First Wifey Disaster

So, my new sister-in-law's birthday was last week, and I wanted to bake a delicious chocolate cake for the occasion. We had some friends over to go swimming and to stay for dinner and birthday cake. The day before the shindig, I set out to bake this fabulous cake. I had all my ingredients measured and set out and I was following the cookbook to a "t" as I stirred to some Diana Krall on our stereo. I was being a very good little cook this time, following all the directions and measuring all my ingredients carefully, which I rarely do, even when baking. I was determined to be a perfect little wifey and bake a perfect little cake. Of course, my determinations to be perfect almost always end up being my worst disasters. But on to what actually happened...

So, I'm measuring and stirring and preheating and having a grand old time, thinking about how wonderful this recipe is and how deliciously moist this cake will be. I buttered up my cake pans and carefully poured the batter into them. I thought the pans looked a little full already, but I still had cake batter left, so I just poured the remaining batter into a container and put it into the fridge for later use. The cookbook stated that one recipe would make one 9" round cake. I wanted a double-layer cake, so I doubled the recipe. It concerned me that there was so much batter in the pans as well as leftover, but I decided to trust the cookbook and just go with it. Bad idea. Ten minutes after delicately putting the cakes into the oven (without a pan underneath, of course), I was still washing my preparation dishes when I smelled a wonderful and awful smell. It was like eating delicious milk chocolate that had an ashy aftertaste. I became quite concerned and opened the oven to find two violently bubbling cakes, sloshing over the edges of the pans and bursting into flame each time a dollop hit the oven coils. Naturally, I freaked out and panicked for a minute. Then, I cleared the counter like a crazy person, frantically thinking of something I could put the cakes on that wouldn't create an even larger mess. I settled for a nearby towel, and thought (knowing this would be messy either way), "to heck with the laundry" as I put on my oven mitts and pulled the upset cakes out of the oven, placing them on the counter. I quickly turned the oven off, opened the windows, turned on fans, called my mom, and burst into tears. As I wailed to my mother of my ignorant disaster, she calmed me down in a way that only my mother can do when I'm in domestic distress. She talked me through the process of simply turning the oven back on, spooning out the excess cake batter, and trying again. The oven could be cleaned later, just get the cakes baked and salvaged. As we discussed what might have caused the fiasco, we discovered that the recipe calls for an exorbitant amount of baking soda that most likely caused the excess batter and violent bubbling. I thanked my mother for her advice, and hung up the phone so I could begin cleaning the chocolate off the walls.

In the end, all was not lost. The cakes turned out just fine, the chocolate came off the walls, floors, appliances, and cabinets, and my love for cooking has not gone sour. My husband came home that night to find me somewhat in shambles, still doing dishes and laundry. He was a dear, comforting me while helping me find laughter and hilarity in the whole ordeal. He then cleaned the oven for me and helped with the laundry. (Of course, during this whole endeavor, a clip from Bill Cosby's Himself is running through my head...) I saved the excess batter and baked a bundt cake the next day (which turned out fine), and my sister-in-law and our friends were able to enjoy and celebrate her birthday with chocolate cake after all. Lessons learned?

1. Mothers are awesome
2. Husbands are sweet and helpful
   
3. Don't let me bake alone (just kidding)
   
4. Chocolate does come out of oven mitts
5. Our ventilation system is awesome (the smoke detector didn't go off! Wait, is that bad?)
6. Praise the Lord for self-cleaning ovens
7. No more freaking out over "ruined" cooking endeavors

After all, it is just cake.