i did make pork tenderloin this night, a tenderloin from a hog unknown. seems like in oregon local pigs are distantly alien, hormel is as close i could get at various butchers to identify their swine, or where such loin might have come from. neither identifiable country, state nor region. pity. really. i mean anyone can turn any tenderloin into a decent piece of meat. once it's done, it will take culinary perception and comparison to render a chinese flaw. i regret to say this, but i don't understand why chefs and diners alike in portland don't demand better contrivance over the source of their meats. especially as a hog's origin is concerned. a quick reading of the various wikis shows sows gorging on virtually anything, i mean diddly-squat jack, and who knows what they were fed in their distant country of pen, or, if their meat contains the unmentionables, hormones, steroids, whatevers.
at any rate, sad to say, tonight's loin of questionable origin was perfectly cooked (what else?) roasted over high, blackened by fiery if butane blaze to do the final blackening sear, flamed on ricard to finish the deal. i served it with torched mushrooms, a tender rendition of buttery local finocchio and, of course a small helping of below's mandarinquats.
it is well worth to consider the dish, pursue it, especially if you know where your sow roamed. may i recommend the combination as a delectable, if in this neighborhood, late winter's dish. yes?