Pork fillet or tenderloin is very lean, so it can be quite a tricky meat to cook with. With a flick of a finger the once rosy and tender flesh can pale, shrivel and turn as tough as old boots. After a lot of experimentation, I have finally mastered one technique to cook this stubborn cut.
Chicken, leeks, cider, cream and butter. All my favourite ingredients are in this Normandy dish. With these few ingredients it makes a simple and quick, yet delicious, mid-week supper. It’s a refreshing change from Spaghetti Bolognese, don’t you think? Pork can easily be substituted for the chicken. Go ahead and treat yourself.
Dark green, pale green, gray, orange, yellow, white, red, knobbly, smooth, ridged, small, enormous, round, oblong or ovoid. Ah yes, you know it is autumn when pumpkins start appearing at your local supermarket in all shapes and sizes. They are so versatile in cooking and yet I know few Britons who have even tasted it.
We live in a tiny, sleepy village called Canewdon. When two cars have driven through the high street it has been a very busy day. The closest city, Southend-on-Sea, is twenty minutes’ drive away. More correctly, it is a seaside town that has been described as “interesting” by a fellow South African. Others, including me, are less polite. Once you’ve seen the beauty of South African coastal towns like Knysna, it is very difficult to find a place that can compete.
Poulet Vallée d’Auge is the French name for this classic dish from Normandy and Brittany, which are the dairy and apple-growing regions of France. Chicken and apple is a match made in heaven. Paired with a light creamy sauce enhanced with some brandy is simply divine. This fricassée is seriously more-ish. Once you start you can’t stop until every morsel has been devoured and the very last globule of sauce licked off your plate, not to mention the frying pan!!
When I was about 4 years old my mother made finger foods for the church on every odd Sunday. These are one of the recipes she made. Like any typical kid I especially wanted to help her make these blobs of chocolate heaven. Constantly I was told to keep my fingers out of the sweet, thick mixture but how could I resist? At least I got to lick the pot out afterwards. During sermons all I could think about was my “sjokolade jungle oat koekies”, wishing the dominie (reverend) would come to a conclusion. Any conclusion, even if we all burn in hell I simply didn’t care for as long as I could eat my “koekies” first I will die happy.