Hodgepodge 5/365 - Cooking

This scary election seems to have me in hunker-down (comfort) mode: this morning I have been baking (persimmon bread) and getting a pork loin going in my crockpot—to be accompanied later by baked potatoes and beets and brussels sprouts. Simple pleasures.

The persimmon bread recipe I got from the Internet: I like to see readers' high marks and their comments (variations or suggestions). The meat recipe comes from a cookbook, One Pot of the Day: 365 Recipes for Every Day of the Year. Yes, I am a sucker for the 365-day theme in all areas of life. I also very much enjoy single-dish meals—casseroles, stews, stir-fries, noodle dishes, etc. Which is what I thought this cookbook would be, given the title. But it's always good to have an excuse to use the crockpot.

When I cook, I like to follow recipes pretty closely; if I make changes, it is usually only to adjust the amount of garlic or spices. I also tend to choose fairly complicated recipes. (I do not cook all that often, as a result!) Today's recipes were not complicated: as I said, comfort mode—comfort = simplicity.

That said, I am a somewhat impatient sort, and I often forget to slow down and read the entire recipe, particularly when it comes to main course recipes. And then to prepare all the ingredients before I start to cook. Which can make for a lot of on-and-offing of burners. (Baked goods do not present such a problem.)

Today, the pork loin being a simple recipe, it was easy to remember to get everything ready before cooking commenced. Well, all except the crushed garlic, which I peeled and crushed (just one more large clove than called for) while the shallots and celery were sautéing. (The only other variation: extra dry vermouth substituted for dry white wine, because I had the vermouth and I did not have the wine. On the persimmon bread: currants and dried cranberries substituted for raisins, because ditto.)

This problem I have, of not reading the whole recipe—or of skimming it and missing a key directive, such as "marinate for at least four hours"—sometimes makes for dinner hitting the table at ten. Respectable Spanish time. Occasionally, especially if the recipe indicates "best on the second day," we end up scrounging leftovers that evening while the miscalculated stew (or what-have-you) stews, and then sits. Fortunately, we're flexible when it comes to eating, both what and when.

Here's the persimmon bread, fresh out of the oven (along with a few more persimmons awaiting their fate). The pork loin will be done right about six. Respectable American time.