Herb Encrusted Pork Tenderloin

I love fusion cooking. Taking elements of different culture and mixing them together to create something new, exciting and different is at the heart of not only fusion cooking but it is what makes American truly special.

The poem by Emma Lazarus on the Statute of Liberty should be remembered in light of our current immigration problems and is, in an off hand way, the inspiration for today's menu, Herb Encrusted Pork Tenderloin. Combining elements of a traditional chimmichuri marinade reminiscent of Argentina with the national dish of Mexico, a mole, then encrusting the tenderloin in a Japanese panko before braising and roasting by traditional European methods, we come up with today's recipe. We'll be serving this with roasted new potatoes and asparagus.

Herb Encrusted Pork Tenderloin

Prep time: 15 minutes, Marinade for 2-4 hrs

Cook time: about 1 hour, 45 minutes

2 Tbsp olive oil

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 Tbsp dried parsley or 2 Tbsp fresh,

1 Tbsp dried mint or 2 Tbsp fresh

1 Tbsp sea salt

1/2 Tbsp black pepper

2 Tbsp lime juice

2 Tbsp honey

1 4 oz can diced green chilies

1/4 cup mole sauce

4-5 lb boneless pork loin

Japanese panko breadcrumbs

Place first 10 ingredients in a food processor and puree.

Sear the pork loin for 15-20 seconds on all sides in a heavy skillet over high heat. Coat the pork with the marinade and refrigerate for 2-4 hours.

Preheat oven at 475 degrees.

Remove pork from the marinade and roll in Panko until evenly coated on all sides. Place the loin on a rack in a roasting pan and roast in the oven for 30 minutes. Reduce heat and continue cooking for an about additional hour until the internal temperature reaches 155 degrees. (I use a programmable meat thermometer with probe/timer.) Remove from the oven and let rest for 20 minutes. It will continue cooking while it rests.

Carve and enjoy.

Photo by Charles Shiller

The New Colossus

(by Emma Lazarus)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"