Grilled Pork Chops with Tarragon Butter #SundaySupper

 

I'm lucky. I have a great dad. AND my husband is the best dad ever too. I don't know how I wound up with all the best dads. Once again, I must be lucky. How did I get so lucky? I don't know. Lucky I guess. 

And not only are my dad and my son's dad the best dads, several of my friends are also the best dads. There's Dave and Brian and Russ and Ho and Scott and Dylan and Steve and Jonathan and Mark and Geir and Bassi and John and Paul, and well, you get the picture. Lots of great, loving dads who work hard to love and care and inspire. 

The truth is, great dads never get the credit they deserve. Too often they get the beady eye when they enter mom territory like the park or the grocery store or school. One day, once a year, is just not enough to show dads how much we appreciate the hours of sitting on the floor playing with Legos; the screaming shoulders from carrying the kiddos around; the complete assumption of responsibility for life and security (even though we moms feel like we carry a lot of that too, so give yourselves a break sometimes); the reading, bathtime, lessons, affection, attention great dads put in every day.

But one day a year is all they get, so let's at least make it count. A nice piece of meat on the grill with a delicious herb butter melting with the juices into a luscious sauce. I think that says special occasion. I used pork chops for this recipe (from my favorite farm, Haskins Family Farm, of course), but steaks would work nicely too. What makes these pork chops especially good is the combination of a dry rub with a compound butter that includes tarragon, a herb with a slight licorice flavor. Tarragon is the herb that's used to flavor Bearnaise sauce, and this compound butter reminds me ever so slightly of that classic sauce. Serve up the pork chops with a baked potato and a green salad, and you have a nice summer meal. What am I saying? An amazing summer meal. 

The dry rub doubles easily and can be stored indefinitely in an airtight container. Also, feel free to mix up the spices any way you like. Just try to maintain the same proportions (4 parts sugar, 2 parts salt, about 2 parts spices). Similarly, the compound butter is easy to double. If you have any left, just roll it into logs and freeze for another occasion. (However, I like it on toast or crackers.)

Ingredients

• 2-4 large pork chops, about an inch thick

FOR THE DRY RUB

• 4 Tbsps brown sugar
• 2 Tbsps kosher salt
• 1 Tbsp smoked paprika
• 1/2 tsp each of dry mustard, ground white pepper, cayenne pepper, dried ginger, and cumin 

FOR THE COMPOUND BUTTER

• 4 Tbsp butter, softened
• 2 Tbsp fresh tarragon, finely chopped
• 2 cloves of garlic, crushed
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt

Instructions

1. Prepare the dry rub: Mix sugar, salt, and spices into an even mix. 
2. Rinse the pork chops, pat them dry. Place them on a large plate. Sprinkle about a tablespoon of dry rub on both sides of every pork chop. Place in the refrigerator for at least 20 minutes, up to 24 hours. Let them sit at room temperature for at least 20 minutes before putting them on the heat.   
3. Prepare the compound butter by blending butter, chopped herbs, crushed garlic, and salt into an even paste. Set aside for now. 
4. Fire up the grill. (I have a strong preference for charcoal, but if you've got a gas grill, well, I suppose you must.)
5. When the fire is medium hot, place the pork chops on the grill. Cook them for five to seven minutes on each side. Check the internal temperature with a meat thermometer. According to my thermometer, the internal temp should be 160 degrees. However, I usually pull the pork chops off the grill at about 155 to avoid drying them out.  
6. Take the pork off the heat. Put a tablespoon of the tarragon butter on each pork chop and let them rest for 10 minutes before serving. 

Happy Father's Day! And, if you would like a little more Father's Day goodness, check out #SundaySupper, a group of food bloggers who are trying to highlight the importance of connecting with family and friends for a Sunday meal. #SundaySupper is the brainchild of Isabel at Family Foodie.

Here is the whole #SundaySupper menu and links to participating blogs:

Father's Day Brunch:

• Dad's Omelette Bar Small Wallet Big Appetite
• Peanut Butter and Honey for Father's Day Breakfast Yummy Smells
• Healthy French Toast In the Kitchen with Audrey
• Paska Hezzi-D's Books and Cooks
• Sausage McFelix Breakfast Sandwich Diabetic Foodie

Dad's Favorite Soup, Salads, and Bread:

• Phil's Pasta Tuna Salad The Watering Mouth
• Simple German Potato Salad and Wiener Wursts German Foodie
• Roasted Beet Soup Vintage Kitchen Notes
• Dad's Cornbread Magnolia Days

Father's Day Favorite Mains:

• Greek Burger Bobbi's Kozy Kitchen
• Dad's Favorite Roast Beef Mrs. Mama Hen
• Sonoran Hot Dogs Damn Delicious
• Bacon Stuffed Jucy Lucy Burger Are You Hungry?
• Spicy Roast Salmon in Coconut Sue's Nutrition Buzz
• Dad's Pride-of-Mobile Fried Oysters Pescetarian Journal
• Smoked Baby Back Ribs Girl in the Little Red Kitchen 
• Beef Tongue in Tomato Sauce Basic and Delicious
• Bibim naeng myun Kimchi Mom
• Chicken Biryan Soni's Food for Thought
• Black Beans and Brown Rice Mama's Blissful Bites
• Bacon Recipes for Dad Momma Cuisine
• Curry Fish with Mixed Vegetables My Trials in the Kitchen
• Roast Beef Roll Ups Daily Dish Recipes

Dad's Sweet Tooth:

• Bread and Butter Pudding Cositas Bonitas
• Tin Roof Sundae Ice Cream famfriendsfood
• Coconut Cream Pudding Chocolate Moosey
• Rich & Fluffy Banana Pudding Parfait The Meltaways
• Black Forest Cheesecake Cravings of a Lunatic
• Macadamia Nut Cookies Pippi's in the Kitchen Again
• Peach Cobbler Bars Juanita's Cocina
• Iced Cookie Bars That Skinny Chick Can Bake!
• Pudim Molotoff, Portuguese Meringue Pudding Family Foodie

Wine Pairings for Father's Day ENOFYLZ

And don't forget to join the conversation on Twitter. Just follow the hash tag #SundaySupper.

Herbed Ossabaw pork chops

When I was a kid, I visited my grandparents (Afi and Amma) in Reykjavik every summer. They lived in a gray concrete apartment building with a green square of grass in the back. Their windows were hazed with lace curtains, and at night white light quietly tiptoed into otherwise dark rooms. As I tried to sleep, jetlagged and unused to so much night light, I listened to the ticking of clocks and sometimes chimes as another hour came full circle. Because Afi and Amma didn't have a lot of space, I slept on a blue canvas fold-out cot in the dining room, which was put away every morning.

I spent most of my time there either reading or playing on the carpeted stairway that was the main entrance to the building. The outside door had a buzzer; my grandparents' names were hand written next to the button and slightly water stained. The air of Reykjavik was chilly and smelled a bit like fish, while the water in the pipes smelled and tasted like sulfur. Because Afi managed the building I got to go into the basement with him a few times: It was clean, dry, painted concrete with pipes running along the walls. He was a trim, capable man, unconsciously confident in his capabilities, like many of my Icelandic relatives.

Sometimes I went with him to the fishmonger. The fishmonger had a tiny store in a row of about five tiny stores less than a block from my grandparents' apartment. Sometimes I would go and look in the window at the different kinds of fish laid out on ice in the window. They were sold whole, head on, and had cloudy eyes that stared at you. I knew nothing about the different kinds of fish that the fishmonger sold, only that most were silvery gray and shiny. Sometimes, a red one would be in the mix.

So what is the point of all this remembering and what does it have to do with Ossabaw pork chops? It's all in the packaging: The neat butcher paper wrapped around the pork chops brought me back to Iceland, to the little stores on the corner and the green plastic net bag that Afi used to carry his groceries in. And it was a nice reminder that the small cares you take to prepare a pork chop, to wrap it up like a gift, because in some ways it is a gift, can have far-reaching consequences, can reach deep down into memory or seed the future with meaning.

That's what I took away one day a few months ago, when I made the trek out to Marshall, Virginia, to see my friend Jeff who works at The Whole Ox, a rare and wonderful artisanal butcher shop, because I had heard they had some Ossabaw pork and I was dying to try it (yes, it was a round trip of about 100 miles to get some pork chops). I first learned of Ossabaw pigs while watching an episode of The Four Coursemen, a show about some people who love beautiful, local, artisanal foods and wines and want to share their knowledge with others. Ossabaw pigs descend from pigs brought to the New World by the Spanish, supposedly the same kind of pigs that the famous Jamon Iberico is made from. Because these pigs have been isolated on Ossabaw Island off the coast of Georgia, they have mostly retained their unique genetic identity and flavor. Furthermore, because their diet comprises primarily acorns, their meat is said to have a nutty flavor.

To be truthful, I am not sure I detected the nutty flavor. What I did get from these pork chops was amazing flavor, the kind of complex, rich flavor that reminds you why foods that are grown with patience and care, on or in healthy soils, are so superior to processed junk, which are bland and lack dimension. Foods like these pork chops are so good that your best bet is to do very little to bring out their flavor. Because I was so eager to taste the pork itself, I kept the preparation simple: a little salt and pepper, a little thyme, a little butter, and a squeeze of lemon. Mostly I just tried to put some care into their preparation and to share them with family and friends. (My only regret was that I didn't get more of them when I had the chance.)

Ingredients

• 4-6 Ossabaw pork chops (the ones I got were very small and adorable, probably no more than 4 oz apiece; the size will affect the cooking time)
• salt, pepper, dried thyme
• 2 Tbsp unsalted butter
• 1 lemon          

Instructions

1. Melt the butter in a pan over medium-high heat. 
2. Sprinkle salt, pepper, and thyme over the pork chops. 
3. When the butter is slightly browned, place the pork chops gently in the pan. 
4. Cook each side for about 3-4 minutes per side. Spoon the melted butter over the pork chops regularly. 
5. To finish, squeeze a little lemon juice into the pan and mix it with the drippings and the butter in the pan.
6. Serve with the pan drippings. I served them with polenta, but anything that soaks up the drippings is a good option. 

Oh yeah! I almost forgot, I've also got a new Facebook page! Check it out. 

Strawberry-lemonade jam

When you start making your own food from scratch, especially stuff like bread and mayonnaise, you take a whole lot of pride in what you've accomplished. But it wears off. Eventually baking your own bread doesn't feel so special anymore; it's just a regular part of your week. And once you get the hang of making mayo, you kind of feel like, "Hey, no big."

So far I haven't reached that point with making jam. (And I hope I never do.) Here I am, glowing with pride while eight jars of gorgeous jam cool in the kitchen (plus a little extra insufficient to fill a jar). I decided to call it strawberry-lemonade jam because I love strawberry lemonade (and I thought it sounded good), but really it's strawberry jam flavored with lemon zest, lemon juice, and a hint of lemon verbena to cut the sweetness. It's delicious. And I was able to keep the color of the strawberries--a first in jam making for me. So I am a little puffed up. Let me enjoy my moment of glory. Wait, I have to run to the kitchen and get a spoonful from the partial jar...

Man that's good. Sorry, I'm back. That was wonderful. I am going to tell you how to make the deliciousness yourself in a moment, but first a few tips for making jam:

• Get the very best berries you can find and preferably ones that haven't been sprayed. I got mine from Reid's Orchard because their berries are extraordinarily good, and they practice integrated pest management, which means they rarely spray their fruits.
• Jam is not an excuse for using less-than-perfect berries. If you've got ugly berries, trim the ugly parts and try making saft (a Swedish fruit syrup that's delicious as a refreshing drink when mixed with water or you could also pour a little over ice cream). Or bake something with them.
• Get everything ready before you start cooking the jam, because once you start you will not be able to leave the stove for more than a minute or two. (Lot of hovering over the stove involved in making jam.) So that means wash and sterilize all your jars, juice and zest your lemons, wash the verbena stems, place a plate with five metal spoons in the freezer for testing, and have a ladle and a funnel ready to go.
• Be careful. Making jam is an activity not dissimilar to making candy. That means temperatures get very high, boiling can get violent, and the jam can overflow. Also, it can spatter and burn, so take care. Maybe wear an oven mitt while you stir. Or cast caution to the wind and gain some badges of honor (I got one on my wrist today).  
• Don't start making jam unless you have at least 45 solid minutes to devote completely to the task. You can't really start and stop, and you have to be present at the stove through nearly the entire cook time.    

OK, so those are the general tips. Here are the specifics (both ingredients and equipment):

• 4 lbs hulled strawberries (keep them whole unless they are huge)
• 2 lbs 10 oz sugar 
• juice from four lemons (between 5 and 6 ounces, divided)*
• zest from two lemons (finely chopped or grated)
• 1 large branch of lemon verbena (optional, but nice)
• 1 white plate with 5 metal spoons, placed in the freezer to prep them for testing
• 1 deep thick-bottomed pot that's from 8 inches in diameter (up to 11 or 12) (if you don't have a jam pan,** a stock pot will work just fine)
• 1 silicone spatula
• 1 skimmer, placed in a bowl of cold water
• 1 ladle
• 1 wide-mouth funnel (you'll usually find these wherever you find canning supplies)
• 9 clean 8-ounce jars with banded lids, washed, sterilized, and kept hot
• Any equipment you are using to process the jars (pot with rack, baking sheet and rack, etc.). For information about processing jams (and any canned good) safely, go to the National Center for Home Food Preservation.      

OK, now that you have assembled everything you need, let's get started:

1. Combine strawberries, sugar, and half of the lemon juice in a pot. Stirring steadily with the silicone spatula, slowly heat the mass. When the berries release a lot of liquid and the berry-sugar mass becomes more liquid, raise the heat slowly to high and bring the mass to a rolling boil. 
2. Maintain the berry-sugar mix at a high boil for about 25 minutes, stirring once a minute or so, making sure to scrape the bottom with the spatula. If the mass starts to stick to the bottom, lower the heat a bit. Using a skimmer, skim the scum off the top for the first 10 minutes. As you will be standing here for a while watching the mass boil, you will no doubt notice some changes in the jam: First, it will boil up very high, possibly threatening to boil over. Usually consistent stirring will help keep that from happening, but it doesn't always work. Adjust the heat up and down as you work to maintain a strong boil, while avoiding losing half your jam in a sticky, possibly painful, disaster. 
3. At about the 25-minute mark, the jam will change color, growing darker and glossier, and production of foam will decrease. (Before this, you will notice the jam feeling thicker and the intensity of the boiling increasing.) Mix in the second half of the lemon juice and the lemon zest. (Take the pot off the heating element when you do this to avoid scorching.) Bring the jam back to a high boil for 5 minutes. 
4. After the 5 minutes, take the pot off the heat and add the sprig of lemon verbena to let it steep while you test the jam. To test the jam, place a small amount of jam liquid on a frozen spoon and return it to the freezer for 3-4 minutes. When you take the spoon out, feel the bottom of the spoon, it shouldn't feel hot or cold. If that's the case, tip the spoon to let the liquid run. If it runs slowly and sort of gums up a bit, the jam is done. If it runs fast, let the jam cook for another 5 to 10 minutes and test it again. 
5. If the jam was done on your first try, let the lemon verbena steep for another 5 to 10 minutes. Before you put the jam into the jars, remove the lemon verbena and toss it.
6. Using the ladle, pour the jam into the sterilized jars, leaving 1/4 inch room at the top of the jar. You will get 7 to 9 8-ounce jars of jam. 
7. Process the jars as directed. Except maybe one that you set aside to "test" for flavor to make sure it's OK. Make sure to refrigerate any open jars. 
8. Enjoy it. It should be good for 6 to 8 months if the jars form a proper seal and are kept in a cool, dark place. Make sure to check each jar carefully when you open it. If the seal doesn't pop, or if anything seems off or weird in any way (color, smell, rusty lids, etc.), just get rid of it. Better to lose a jar than to get sick.   

* The basis for this recipe is Rachel Saunders's "Children's Strawberry Jam," from The Blue Chair Jam Cookbook.
** If anyone feels like getting me a jam pan for Christmas, or for any other reason, I would not mind. No really. I wouldn't.

Holy basil, Batman! What can you do with this herb?

This Friday, September 23, marks the autumn equinox and thus the end of summer, which means a whole new season of foods and feelings. Fall is my favorite time of year, with its cooler temperatures, gorgeous colors, and bounty of squashes, apples, sweet potatoes--nice roasty-toasty foods that like a long simmer in flavorful stock or slow roasting in the oven.

But I am not going to talk about that--not yet anyway. No, this is a last hurrah for a summer herb: basil. I am sure people use basil all times of year, but for me, it evokes summer. Its spicy intensity plays especially well with fresh, juicy fruits with a lot of acid: tomatoes, peaches, plums. It's also lovely with watermelon. (Here's a great salad: halved cherry tomatoes, cubed watermelon, torn basil with a dash of salt and a splash of vinegar.) For a truly exquisite drink, make lemonade and add some smashed strawberries and slivered basil. You will be amazed that something as simple and delicious as lemonade could reach such heights.

The most common form of basil in cooking (at least here in the West) is a variety called Genovese basil (that's the one with the big, shiny leaves you often find in pots in grocery stores). In Latin, this type of basil is called Ocimum basilicum--a name that suggests the herb's history. Supposedly basil was found growing near the tomb of Christ, so the herb was frequently used in Orthodox churches (or basilicas) (1). Other sources indicate that basil was once regarded with fear and associated with the basilisk--a nasty reptilian monster that could kill with a glance or a breath (2). The herb is native to Africa, Asia, and India and features frequently in foods from those parts of the world.

Basil is part of the mint family (or Lamiacaes), which are easy to tell because they typically have square stems. Different varieties of basil have various culinary and medicinal uses. Opal basil has dark purple leaves, lavender flowers, and a strong scent of cloves; it's a beautiful plant in the garden. Thai basil, a variety with purple stems and flowers, is sweeter than Genovese and is often used in (surprise!) Thai cooking. I don't use opal or Thai basil too much because they are just a bit too strong for my taste, but I suspect that you could do some very interesting things with them in baking or making ice cream, especially in anything you would create with cinnamon, cloves, anise, or other spices of that nature. Medicinally, basil has been used to soothe upset stomachs (in a tea) and to calm anxiety and aid sleeping. I won't vouch for its effectiveness, but it isn't harmful. (3)

I have grown about 10 varieties of basil, including opal, Thai, lemon, lime, holy, and so forth, but these days I mostly stick to Genovese. Here is the basil I harvested last week:

Yes, I got a pretty good harvest of the stuff and kept it in fairly good condition, despite the brutally hot summer topped with a week of some of the heaviest rains we've seen around here (some of my favorite roads are still impassible because flooding washed parts of them away). I grew it from seed, which is pretty easy to do. The main things to remember when caring for basil plants are that they grow best in warm soil, they don't like to dry out completely (but they don't like to have wet feet either, so good drainage is important), and they like lots of sun. Also, to make sure that you get the best flavor, always pinch off the tops, especially if you see any signs of flowers. Flowering signals the death of an annual plant like basil; its flavor changes in rather unpleasant ways.

Basil is best fresh, but if you want to preserve some for winter days when you long for a memory of summer, your best bet is to freeze it. Dried basil is inferior in flavor, because those lovely volatile oils escape with the moisture as it dries. For best results, blend basil leaves (washed and dried) with a good olive oil and freeze the mixture in ice trays so that you can use a cube as you need it.

You can also make a flavored vinegar by pouring warm vinegar over basil leaves and letting it steep for a day or two. Make sure to strain the basil out though, because otherwise it gets slimy (ick) and becomes a potential breeding ground for bacteria (ickier).

Or, you can try growing basil in a pot in a sunny window. It won't grow as fast as it will outside in summer, but you may have enough to add a few leaves to your food now and then. Same rules apply inside as outside: sun, good drainage, moist soil, warmth, pinch off the flowers.    

And of course, there's always pesto, which freezes well and is easy-peasy to make in a food processor or blender. You'll need

• 2 cups washed and dried basil leaves
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese (4)
• 1/4 cup pine nuts (feel free to substitute walnuts or hazelnuts)
• 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• salt
• fresh ground pepper

Put the garlic, cheese, and nuts in your food processor and blend until you get an even, crumbly mass. Then add the basil leaves and blend to a paste. 

Add olive oil to the paste in a steady stream.

Scrape down the sides and blend again.

Add some salt (about a quarter teaspoon) and some fresh pepper. Blend again. Hey presto, you've got pesto! (Did I really just say that?)

So what can you do with it? Well, there's the obvious one: Add it to fresh cooked pasta for a simple meal. You can also use it on bread as a sandwich spread (let's see, what do you think of a sandwich spread with some pesto and slices of chicken and tomatoes?), or mix it into some mayo. Use it to flavor soups and stews. Ooh, I know, drop a spoonful onto a bowl of fresh, homemade cream of tomato soup. Coat some chicken with it and bake it. Add a dollop to a mess of biscuits, that might be good. Use it instead of tomato sauce on a pizza. In other words, do whatever sounds good.   

(1) Bremness, Lesley. 1988. The Complete Book of Herbs: A Practical Guide to Growing and Using Herbs. New York: Penguin Studio. 

(2) Kowalchik, Claire, and William H. Hylton, eds. 1987. Rodale's Illustrated Encyclopedia of Herbs. Emmaus, PA: Rodale Press. 

(3) Ah, herbal medicine. It's a complicated topic. On the one side, you have airy-fairy "practices" like homeopathy using magical, mystical mumbo jumbo principles of "like curing like" (hm, where have I heard of that before, oh yeah, alchemy; I don't think we have a method for creating gold from lead yet or did I miss a front page?). On the other end, you have breast and lung cancer treatments that derive from varieties of yew trees (Taxus brevifolia and Taxus canadensis). Then there is a range between these extremes. One of the problems with using herbs is some of them really work, which means that they can be very toxic if you don't know how to use them properly. Most culinary herbs are not toxic (bay leaves being one exception), so the dangers of using herbs medicinally doesn't usually apply here, but I generally recommend against playing around with herbs as cures.   

(4) Parmigiano Reggiano is obviously not a local ingredient, but is one of those rare exceptions where you really can't substitute something else. The industrial powder that comes in a green can labeled parmesan is not the same species of creature, not the same family of creature--heck, not even the same kingdom!