Catrin Lewis
Active Member
A probe thermometer, I've found, is a lifesaver. I mean the kind with the probe on a cord, that you leave in the meat while it's in the oven.
Last edited:
What made me happy today?
- Thread starter big soft moose
- Start date
Managed a pork loin that way - once! (cooked in a bain-marie...)
Was it a terrine or a pate?
just a pork loin. General thought that it is okay to have pork rare these days, I can't remember the details but it involved wrapping the thing in cling film and slow-cooking it until the internal temperature reached (something)...
145 F to kill trichinosis was the old guideline, but it's been decades since it was a common problem. It still happens with wild game, though. Commercial pork can be cooked rare, so long as it hits 145 with a 3 min rest... don't think anyone follows that anymore. I haven't worked in a place that sells pork loin or chops since 2008, though.
That’s only 62 Celsius . You could probably hit that in a ban Marie. Personally I like to slow cook pork belly in a crockpot for about 12 hours then sear the outside
I was surprised how low the temperature was. The chef who told me what do do was working for a supplier (I think he still is) who provide food to what was a good restaurant in London, but is now a chain of (I think) franchised outlets called The Ivy. The franchises (or branches) are nowhere near as good as the original, but they are generally pretty good at not killing their clientele.
The pork worked out well - nicely pink, moist, and served with a kind of leek, mushroom, and mustard sauce. I am (mostly) vegetarian, but I hate cooking veggie food to serve to other people! Much easier to impress with bits of dead things.
The pork worked out well - nicely pink, moist, and served with a kind of leek, mushroom, and mustard sauce. I am (mostly) vegetarian, but I hate cooking veggie food to serve to other people! Much easier to impress with bits of dead things.
So may we assume you embrace vegetarianism as a practical dietary measure rather than a moral undertaking?
I maintained a vegetarian diet for about five years when I was in my twenties. Gave it up after 18 months in a place where decent produce was almost nonexistent. A friend turned up at my door after a hunting trip and handed me half a dozen packages of elk burger. When I asked what I was supoosed to do with it, he said, "Eat it," walked back to his truck, and drove off. Only words he spoke. I cooked one of the packages to make tacos the next day and ate that meat like I was starving. I probably was at that point since my life involved work, running, and dancing and about 1000 calories a day. I did stay thin, though.
Catrin Lewis
Active Member
That reminds me of when I was a little kid in the 1960s and the nice restaurant my dad used to take us to when he was feeling flush. I always got the pork chops, and my older sister always ordered lobster tail with drawn butter. (You can tell it was a long time ago, seeing how my rather cheap father had no problem with a nine-year-old ordering that.)
No kids' menu for us--- I don't think they had one.
A few years later, the owner ran afoul of the local Mafia and the place blew up one dark night. That was the rumor, anyway. Too bad. They served good food.
EDIT--I looked it up, and the restaurant didn't blow up, it burned down, in 1965. Was still suspicious.
My parents split up in 1963, so it amuses me to think I was appreciating good food in 1st or 2nd grade.
Last edited:
Catrin Lewis
Active Member
That said, I used my probey-thermometer in a lamb shank for Easter dinner yesterday and it badly misjudged the temperature. Registered 160 degrees F, I let it rest a bit before eating, but the inside was still raw. Probably had it touching the bone.
It was just me, so no embarrassment. I shoved the meat and the whole baby potatoes back in the oven.
Steakhouse standard is three temps in three spots: thickest, thinnest, and geographic center.
Stuart Dren
Active Member
I drove 'er to work yesterday!
Post-op it was running super lean and RPM erratically surging, which I decided probably wasn't my fault in spite of all my recent fussing with the heads and lower and upper intakes, so I cleaned the MAF sensor (it had been sitting under cover but in a dusty area) and gave the coolant more time to circulate, then checked the emission gas recirculation system.
It's a good thing I was in denial. I found 3 problems: tube leak, no signal voltage increase with throttle (I checked, it's not the wiring harness), and solenoid not closing when engine is off. I don't have the tool needed to know if the valve is functioning/sealing.
The signal voltage not changing isn't a guarantee that the sensor is bad per se, and it still had resistance as well as a good KOEO voltage, but with the thousands of dollars in labour I'm saving I prefer to replace small parts than spend hours troubleshooting. I'm replacing all three EGR components and the tubing because the car is so old anyway. For now, electrician's tape on the tubing made it run substantially better. That's fine for 300-500°C temps while I wait for the parts, right?
The coolant system must not have been as cruddy as I thought. I did two rinses and called it a day because I was pissed off. Towards the end it seemed to be peeing fairly clean.
Otherwise, it's certainly something that the head gasket and water pump jobs have sort of possibly worked it seems. For now. Easily the most complex work I've undertaken. Ms. Dren is frankly shocked, but not as much as I am. With new gaskets, IAC valve, PCV valve, water pump, and soon new EGR components, I think it'll stay out of the wrecker for a bit longer, and have some improved mileage to boot.
Unfortunately, now that the wagon is smackin' again, Ms. Dren is planning more trips to the used furniture store.
Last edited:
I am home after being gone exactly one month. Three-day drive ended an hour and a half ago. Writer's group is tonight, but I'm not gonna climb back in that car today for anything short of a life-threatening emergency. So there.
I am home after being gone exactly one month. Three-day drive ended an hour and a half ago. Writer's group is tonight, but I'm not gonna climb back in that car today for anything short of a life-threatening emergency. So there.
Connect via Zoom...
At this time, the group doesn't do Zoom. We tried it the winter of 2024-25 when one (count 'em, ONE) member didn't want to leave her house in the winter to attend meetings. I suggested a hybrid arrangement to accommodate both stay-at-homes and need-to-get-out-of-the-housers, but this winter we met in person, no Zoom.
I wouldn't have Zoomed anyway. Three days alone in a car and I still don't want to talk to people. Takes way too much energy.
GrahamLewis
Active Member
This is a sort of bittersweet happy. I took my adult high-functioning autistic son to the library yesterday. He's a likeable little guy, barely 5 feet tall, a noticeable limp, quiet and withdrawn, doesn't ask for a lot, has had to deal with multiple physical issues over his lifetime, almost too numerous to count. The library is one of his go-to pleasures, and one of the few opportunities for us to work with him on independence, e.g. handling his own library card and account. I should add here that intellectually he is bright and has broad interests, the books he checks out range from chemistry textbooks to bird and butterfly identification to teen comics to kids' counting books. He simply has no interest in the broader social world.
Anyway, I was standing behind him at a distance, watching him put the books on the counter, pull out his wallet (which he rarely carries) and dig out his card, as the librarian, patient and smiling softly, watched and waited.
I was happy to see my son taking that step, but also moved also to tears by the realization of his sweet vulnerability and his soft pride in doing for himself something that most of us take for granted. And I found myself wondering and worrying about his future when we are no longer able to be there for him.
And I am grateful for life-lessons he has innocently taught me.
Anyway, I was standing behind him at a distance, watching him put the books on the counter, pull out his wallet (which he rarely carries) and dig out his card, as the librarian, patient and smiling softly, watched and waited.
I was happy to see my son taking that step, but also moved also to tears by the realization of his sweet vulnerability and his soft pride in doing for himself something that most of us take for granted. And I found myself wondering and worrying about his future when we are no longer able to be there for him.
And I am grateful for life-lessons he has innocently taught me.
Too much energy, yeah. Lack of requisite oomph. I know that feeling too well. There are friends and times I'd rather sit quietly than converse [with].
