Pork chop but no pineapple

While discussing the limits and attraction of representationalism, Terry Eagleton asks: "Why do we take delight in an image of a pork chop which looks exactly like a pork chop?"
My answer is: "I'm not sure, but I take delight in a pork chop itself because it smells like a pork chop. And tastes like one."
Tonight we had a very simple supper - grilled pork chops with a sauce made of mustard and sour cream, courgettes and mushrooms fried in garlicky olive oil, and steamed rice. It took twenty minutes to prepare and cook, kept warm without detriment for a whole half-hour while I did a phone interview for work (stupid Americans, why can't they work normal hours?), and tasted delicious at the end of it.
But no pineapple. Who eats pineapple on a pork chop, apart from Professor Eagleton?

Low fat? Delicious!

We've been on a bit of a health drive in Compulsive Cookery Towers, so I've been struggling to think how to cook meals that are low fat, low salt but still not depressing. It's not easy.

As with all cooking, good ingredients are key. Skinned chicken thighs from my favourite poulterer are surprisingly good fried in a dry pan: luckily I have excellent non-stick pans.

Tonight's meal was typical (of the successful experiments. I'll write about the unsuccessful ones another time!). We had chicken with brown and wild rice, a dried mushroom sauce and steamed courgettes and mushrooms.

The mushroom sauce is the key to not being depressed by the low-fat meal. I have never been able to like dry food - potatoes need to be soaked in butter, meat needs gravy, sandwiches need mayonnaise. A friend of mine once commented that there was a hint of obsessive-compulsive in my careful buttering of toast to cover every square millimetre. I say 'how could you bear to eat dry toast?'.

Unfortunately, most sauces, or at least most nice sauces, are fattening, ie made with butter, cream or both.

This is where the dried mushrooms come in. Pour boiling water over a handful of dried mushrooms and let stand for thirty minutes (officially at least. In practice, if I'm very patient, I let them stand for about ten minutes). In the meantime, chop a couple of shallots and fry them in olive oil, or other fat, depending on your dietary requirements and whatever is available. Then strain the mushrooms, reserving the water, chop them finely and fry with the shallots. When they start to exude liquid, sprinkle a wee bit of flour on them and cook for a few minutes. Then add the soaking liquid until the sauce is quite a lot runnier than you like it. Simmer it till it has thickened to your liking. Hey presto, delicious sauce!

Don't watch - I'm eating truffles

Tolkien’s hobbits were inordinately fond of mushrooms. Although I don’t think of myself as hobbit-like in any other way, I sometimes worry that there is something sinister about how much I like eating fungus.
My first experience of eating fresh truffles was at a reception held by a French investment bank. I couldn’t tell you which one, anymore than I can remember anything about the speech that the chairman made just after the very simple pasta with truffles was served.
Nobody had warned me that the real attraction of truffles is that they taste subtly but unmistakeably of sex. Eating truffles in polite company is like watching an erotic Japanese arthouse movie with your parents. It’s not totally taboo, because it’s a classy film, but you are embarassed by how beautifully sexy it is.
Sadly, almost the only way I can afford to eat really good truffles is when it’s being paid for on an expense account, so I have spent a lot of time wondering how much the embarassment blunts my enjoyment of these subterranean jewels. The conclusion I have come to is that it’s always worth it, even though it sometimes makes me very resentful of the generous person simultaneously buying and ruining my lunch.
Until my ship comes in, I am very happy to stick with more plebian mushrooms in my own kitchen. This cep formed the main flavouring ingredient in a richly comforting risotto last week, while pieds de mouton, English boletus, slippery jacks, girolles , chanterelles and shaggy parasols made a wonderful mushroom stew to accompany a savoury pie.