Novel Food Winter 2007 Edition: Pork Tenderloin en Croute

It was nearing the deadline for the winter edition of the Novel Food event that Simona of Briciole and I had started in the fall. The red oak outside my dining room window doggedly held onto its last crumpled brown leaves as the snow and ice took turns pummeling the bricks on Elm Blvd. It was warm inside the house; too comfortable for the task that lay ahead of me. I piled on the foul-weather gear and gingerly made my way in the street until I reached Randolph. The going was easier on the main drag, and I made good progress even with the headwind. As I reached the remodeled library on the corner of Randolph and Green, a blast of icy wind caught my hood. I ducked into the library and found what I was looking for: The first two Spenser novels by Robert B. Parker. I'd heard Spenser was quite the cook, in addition to being a famous literary private eye, and I figured I'd find a meal in one of the books that sounded good enough to whip up for the event. If I was lucky.

Okay, okay—enough of my feeble attempt to imitate Robert Parker's grand writing style. For this edition of Novel Food, I give you the first meal Spenser makes for the woman (Susan Silverman) who will become his paramour for the rest of the series:

Pork Tenderloin en Croûte with Cumberland Sauce
Apples, Carrots, and Onions in Cider
Farmer's Market Tomato Salad
French bread
Red wine (I chose a California Pinot Noir)

In the second novel of the series, God Save the Child, Spenser is in the middle of a thorny case involving a missing child named Kevin. He meets Ms. Silverman, a school guidance counselor, as part of his investigation. She makes an impression on him. A few evenings later, he decides to give her a call:

"I know it's late," I said, "but I'm about to cook a pork tenderloin en croûte and wondered if you would be willing to eat some of it while we talk more about Kevin Bartlett." She was silent. "I'm a hell of a cook," I said. "Not much of a detective, have some trouble locating my own Adam's apple, don't have much success with kidnapping victims, but I'm a hell of a cook."

Susan Silverman accepts Spenser's dinner invitation and tells him she'll be over at 7:30.

I turned on the oven to preheat, took the pork out of the meatkeeper to warm up, and set about making the crust. I opened another Amstel. Better watch it, though; didn't want to be drunk when she got here. It was, after all, business, or partly business. I made a very short crust and laid the tenderloin across it. I sprinkled in some thyme, some black pepper, and a dust of dill. I rolled the crust carefully around it and put it on a roasting pan. I brushed a little egg white on the top to glaze it and put it in a medium oven.

I peeled and sliced three green apples, some carrots, and some red onions. I added a lump of butter and put them to simmer in about an inch of cider in a tightly covered saucepan. I made a Cumberland sauce for the pork. Then I went to get dressed. I decided against a gold lamé smoking jacket and white silk scarf. Instead I put on a black polo shirt and white trousers with a modest flare. I put on my black loafers, still shined, and walked up Arlington Street two blocks to Boylston and bought two loaves of hot French bread from a bake shop. Then I walked back to my apartment and put a bottle of red wine in the wine bucket, opened it to let it breathe, and packed it in ice. I knew that was bad—I was supposed to roll it on my palate at room temperature, but once a hick, always a hick, I guess. I liked it cold.

At seven fifteen I took the pork out of the oven and put it on the counter to rest. I took the lid off the vegetables, turned up the heat, and boiled away the moisture while I shook the pan gently. It made them glaze slightly. I put them in a covered chafing dish over a low blue flame. I put the French bread into the still warm oven. I had stopped on the way back from Smithfield and bought a dozen native tomatoes at a farm stand. Each was the size of a softball. I sliced two of them about a half-inch thick and sprinkled them lightly with sugar and arranged them slightly overlapping on a bed of Boston lettuce on a platter and put them beside the roast to warm up. Tomatoes are much better at room temperature.

I had just finished washing my hands and face when the doorbell rang. Everything was ready. Ah, Spenser, what a touch. Everything was just right except that I couldn't seem to find a missing child. Well, nobody's perfect. I pushed the release button and opened my apartment door. I was wrong. Susan Silverman was perfect.

Spenser and Silverman have a couple of vodka gimlets and then, after he's made the final preparations, they sit down to eat.

I held her chair as she sat down, sat down opposite her, and poured some wine in her glass.

"A self-effacing little domestic red," I said, "with just a hint of presumption."
She took a sip. "Oh, good," she said, "it's cold. I hate it at room temperature, don't you?"
I said, "Let's elope."
"Just like that," she said. "Because I like cold wine?"
"Well, there are other factors," I said.
"Let's eat first," she said.

They eat, largely in silence.

She accepted another slice of the roast and put sauce on it from the gravy boat.
"The sauce is super," she said. "What is it?"
"Cumberland sauce," I said. "It is also terrific with duck."
She didn't ask for the recipe. Style. I hate people who ask for recipes.

(The preceding excerpts were taken from God Save the Child, by Robert B. Parker.)

There are many novels in the Spenser series; the first one came out in the early 1970s, and the newest was just released this fall. I've now read two of them and am on the third; I believe I'll read them all.

I've also read that a Spenser cookbook is in the planning stages; it would be so great if one were put together (Mr. Parker, need any help with that?). There are detailed descriptions of meals Spenser cooks sprinkled throughout the novels; it's great fun to read them, and they inspire me to get up and cook (or at least eat) every time I come across one.

Now, as you read, Spenser hates people who ask for recipes. I know you're too polite to ask, so I'm going to go ahead and give you one for the Cumberland sauce.

Ruby Cumberland Sauce
From The New Basics Cookbook, by Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins

Our Cumberland sauce is great as a glaze. You can chill it and serve it with pates and game terrines, and with lamb or duck. (Or pork tenderloin en croûte. LM)

2 cups red currant jelly
1/2 cup ruby port wine
1 tablespoon finely slivered orange zest
1 1/2 tablespoons finely slivered lemon zest (I used the Microplane zester on both counts)
1/4 cup fresh orange juice
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup finely chopped shallots
1 tablespoon dry mustard
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 1/2 teaspoons coarsely ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt

Combine all the ingredients in a small saucepan, and place over medium-low heat. Stir frequently until the jelly has melted. Remove the pan from the heat, and let the sauce stand for at least 30 minutes.
. . . . . . . . .
This was a most delicious sauce—sweet and spicy, fruity and tangy. It went wonderfully well with the juicy, slightly herby pork. In making the tenderloin, I did just about exactly what was described in the book: made a basic shortcrust pastry, rolled it out to about 1/8-inch thickness, put the tenderloin on it. I used fresh thyme and dill rather than dried, but that was the only deviation from the described method. I roasted it in a 375 °F oven for about 35 minutes, then let it rest for about 15 minutes before slicing it.

I'd gotten tomatoes at Saturday's last-of-the-year farmers' market, so I had those for the tomato salad. I also had farmers' market carrots, apples, and onion—a bonus.

Keith and I ate the pork and sides for lunch (minus the pre-meal gimlets), and he allowed as how "This meal would make me have sex with you, for sure." High praise! Spenser didn't get that lucky, at least not the night of his dinner with Susan Silverman. But it didn't take her too long to come around.

Nine intrepid souls made time in their hectic holiday schedules to participate in this second edition of Novel Food. Following are links to four of their posts. Please go and see Simona's half of the roundup, which includes her own Novel Food post—inspired by the book Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert. The vignette she shares from that book, involving the way young, macho Roman guys drown their sorrows after their team loses a soccer match, is priceless (I've got to read this book!). Her post is also a lovely tribute to her Aunt Lucia, cream puff maker extraordinaire.

I so enjoyed reading each and every entry. Thank you, everyone, for making this such an enjoyable event. Here's to cooking and books!

Paz, of The Cooking Adventures of Chef Paz, shares her Green Pea Soup from a thriller called The Dead Don't Dance, by Olivia Kroth. The soup is perfect for winter; thick, homey, and hearty. And be sure to check out the book's cover, which Paz reproduces in her post. Yikes!

Manuela baked a lemon cake which you can savor on her blog Baking History: A Taste for the Past. The cake is inspired by a passage in Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth in which the characters Lily Bart and Lawrence Seldon drink afternoon tea while pondering the fate of "poor, miserable, marriageable girls!" Manuela even photographed the cake with a green-glazed teapot, as described in the book.

Sandi over at Whistlestop Cafe Cooking baked Dottie Niven's Kentucky bourbon pie after a character in Fannie Flagg's novel A Redbird Christmas. It's a pecan pie with bourbon and chocolate chips in it—zounds! Visions of sugarplums, indeed! I like this kind of Southern hospitality.

Laurie, of Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska, found culinary inspiration in the novel Corelli's Mandolin. The novel is set in Cephalonia, Greece, just before and during World War II (when Greece was invaded by Italy and Germany). In it, the traditional Cephalonian meat pie serves as an emblem of the people's precious culture—and freedom. The novel sounds beautiful and Laurie's meat pie looks scrumptious.

Again, thank you so much to everyone who participated in the winter edition of Novel Food. If you're enjoying the event, please consider taking part in the spring 2008 edition!