I had one of those moments where I was frantically searching the top of the dinner table for anything to sop up the sauce from my creamy honey dijon garlic thyme pork… but no bread, so I had to settle for spooning the excess sauce onto new potatoes and edamame. At least it was mannered; my other option was to slurp.

There is a reason pork is a noun AND a verb. To pork. I was baited by the verb via my frantic sauce moment, caught in a bonafide feeding frenzy. You know you are porking when: you are eating rapidly while eyeing the last portion in the dish, and/or you eat because it tastes good and ignore the bursting belly below, and/or you temporarily dip into a zone where you become one with the flavors of the food, and stay there a little too long. Been there, done that, guilty as charged.

Excuses front and center: THIS pork recipe is why people write cookbooks. It is SO embarassingly easy, and SO easy to multiply from serving 4 to serving 12, and SO melt in your mouth good. Besides, it is good protein, the kids loved it and it goes so nicely with an array of vegetables. Plus you can skip dessert: this pork will satiate any need for sweet, rich, moist and saucy. What more can I say? To pork!

Honey Garlic Pork
One 1 lb. pork tenderloin, cavity cut lengthwise
4-5 sprigs of thyme
4-5 cloves garlic, crushed with skins on
Kosher salt & coarse pepper
2 T olive oil

Sauce
1/3 cup honey
1/3 cup butter, melted
1/3 cup heavy cream
2 T dijon or grainy mustard
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp curry powder

Heat oven to 400; open pork cavity and fill with all of the thyme and garlic. Salt and pepper the outside of the pork, secure with twine. Heat olive oil in large skillet over medium high, brown all sides of pork, 1 minute per side (I count four sides). Place in baking dish (9×13 is good for 1-2 loins, space apart if using 2; any baking dish works as long as the loin fits). Blend all sauce ingredients, pour over pork and place in oven. Bake 20-25 minutes or until meat thermometer registers 140. Baste 2-3 times. Remove from oven, let meat rest for 10 minutes under aluminum foil tent. Cut twine, remove thyme stems and garlic and throw away. Slice and serve.

Notes
Recipe serves 4. Add a 1 lb. pork tenderloin per 3-4 people. Recipe has enough sauce to serve up to 8. If serving more than 8, increase sauce recipe/ingredients accordingly. Feel free to use a 2-3 lb pork tenderloin; for every 1 lb. of tenderloin add 15-20 minutes in oven (or until center reaches 140 degrees). Use kitchen twine to tie pork, I tried a long skewer which was a fancy idea until I had to remove it (the pork won). To avoid unpleasant slurping, serve bread to sop up sauce.

If I am going to spend $10 on a bouquet, I feel ’so clever’ when I spend only $5 and the bouquet doubles as a dessert. I bought a tray of red pears from Costco and made 3 notable slices of art (see photos). At only $5, my centerpieces not only would last for 1-2 weeks but provide first artistic interest, then fruit snacks for lunch, sweetness for salads and/or a base for my next best chutney. No matter how you slice it, this was a good idea!Creating ambiance on the fly can be as simple as lighting candles, throwing on some jazz music and placing some simple, elegant fruits and vegetables on buffets, tables and counters. Fruit is as artful as the next flower, depicted in galleries all around.

Toss together a bowl of green fruits—granny apples, green figs, avocados, heirlooms and limes—or playful harvest colors with eggplants, plums, squash and red onions. In summer I pile bell peppers of every color with peaches and ginger and tomatoes. I do love flowers, but in a pinch vegetables have an equally formidable presence.

In a pinch, Sangria is a pleasant, unexpected surprise, giving cheer to any meal. Sangria reminds me of champagne, a drink with a reputation for celebration. The myth being you need a reason to celebrate; I think we just need to celebrate more often without a given reason. Besides, this is so easy to pour together. Years ago I picked up a recipe from Martha Stewart, then simplified it to my liking.

Consider assembling a Sangria Kit as a gift; it is fabulous for friends and neighbors during the holidays (especially if they have previously enjoyed it with you!). Place Ingredients artistically in basket, bag or tin. Provide recipe and holiday greetings. I usually include:

1 bottle of Beaujolais (or my dad’s blackberry wine)
1 bottle sparkling blackberry, black cherry or raspberry soda
2 oranges
1 tiny bottle brandy (2 oz)
Small bag of berries: blackberry, currant, cranberry, raspberry
Optional: 2-3 plums, bunch black grapes.

To assemble: pour wine, soda, juice of one orange, 1 orange sliced into thin rounds, brandy and berries in large glass flask or decanter. Optional: add 1-2 T sugar to taste, stir to blend. Can be made 1-2 hours in advance; serve at room temperature.

True! My niece didn’t have a birthday cake or even a cupcake for her first birthday. My family took the risk of assigning dessert-making to me, so my niece ended up with a pumpkin banana tart with piles of whipping cream (inspired by and nod to Barefoot Contessa, Family Style). The celebration actually engulfed 3 birthdays in the family: my son and 2 of my nieces. And the tart was a hit! My 1 year old niece wore it all over her face, my son loves pumpkin and thought it a special treat, and everyone else seemed to welcome the whip cream covered jolt of fall. When my sister-in-law requested this tart for the Thanksgiving menu, I let out a sigh of relief, despite the unconventional birthday treat. Sure—I will put it on the short list for Thanksgiving desserts. (Let me know if you do, too). Oh, and the biggest tip to making this hands-on dessert feel easy is to get out the tools before you start: tart or tartlet pans, mixing bowls, 1 saucepan, 2 rubber spatulas, a handheld blender for whipping cream and a whisk. Bowls all out, now enjoy the process and outcome, especially the benefit of having dessert done a day ahead of time:

Pumpkin Banana Tart
Serves 10.

Makes six 6 inch tarts, or one 11 inch tart, or one 9 inch and 3 six inch tarts, or try smaller tartlets for finger food: pour as many as you can but keep the pumpkin filling to about 3/4 inch, no thicker.

Crust
2 cups graham cracker crumbs
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup butter

Filling
1/2 cup half&half
1 15 oz can pumpkin puree
1 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
3 large egg yolks, 4 if small
1 small package gelatin (2 tsp)
1 ripe banana, well mashed
1 tsp grated orange zest
1/2 cup cold heavy cream
2 T plus 1 tsp sugar

Dollops
1 cup heavy cream
2 T sugar
1/2 tsp orange extract OR 1/2 tsp vanilla extract OR 1/8 tsp cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350. Pulse to blend ingredients for crust, press into sides and bottom of tart pan(s) (with removable bottoms if you have them). Bake 10 minutes then cool. Place gelatin in 1/4 cup water and set aside (tiny bowl). Heat and stir cream, pumpkin, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt in dutch oven/heavy saucepan over medium until hot, about 6-8 minutes. Whisk eggs in [another] bowl, adding small spoonfuls of hot pumpkin mix to warm up the eggs but not cook them. Stir slowly and continually. Once the egg mix is heated through, add into pan with pumpkin mix. Stir continually until heated and thickened, 5 minutes. Remove from heat. In [yet another] bowl, blend banana, gelatin mix and orange zest. Stir into pumpkin mix. Whip cream in chilled bowl (hey, how many bowls is that?), adding sugar when peaks start to form. When you have firm peaks, fold into pumpkin mix and pour into tart pans. Chill at least 2 hours or overnight. Make dollops to top tarts by repeating whip cream procedure (in the last, chilled bowl), adding extract/cinnamon with the sugar. Whatever you do, resist the temptation to serve in bowls—you already filled that quota.

Yes, really: grilled (make it like you would a grilled cheese, but put on peanut butter and jelly instead). Think back to your childhood food experiences, and the people that lent their recipes and kitchen craft to your food story. Some good, some bad?

My own food saga includes an incident, when my father took us [kids] fishing. Barely arrived, we gleefully gobbled too much licorice and sipped countless cups of hot chocolate; hours later our indulgences shook hands with the flu. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t pretty. And to top it off, we were camping next to wildly successful [slurring, partying and passing out] fisherman, with only a single porta-potty inside a camper van, in the middle of nowhere. Today we tell the story and laugh hysterically, generously buffered by the gift of time passed.

On the happier side of food memories, I fondly remember the pink peppermints my grandma slid me, or the white rice she magically turned into a mountainous pudding, floating in a lake of butter and brown sugar. And I will never forget when—as a newlywed—I was learning how to cook, and put in over 20 cloves of garlic instead of the called for 2-3. It turned a small, humble batch of pesto into a green garlic paste and WOW it packed a punch: every pore I had smelled like garlic cloves every minute of every day for a week.

The PB&J is less of a story than a singular event that occurred when I was 5. Before then, grilled only meant cheese and peanut butter and jelly had never met the skillet. But on this particular day it did, and the standard sandwich was transformed. My curiosity toward food was awakened. Here is how I remember it: I spent a single day with a fill-in caretaker, an elderly friend of the family. When lunch rolled around, she announced the entree: Grilled PB&J. With curious eyes and absolute disbelief, I peered over the edge of the skillet. As if breaking all the rules I bit into this divergent sandwich: it was gooey, crisp, warm, cool and sweet all at the same time.

On that day, on some level, I discovered that when it comes to food you can change the rules. Just because I only had grilled cheese didn’t mean that was the same everywhere else. When it comes to food, each family has different stand-bys, secrets and snack drawers. I later noticed my friends’ lunches and how each one was different. I went on playdates and noted that snacks and dinners and desserts took a unique shape of their own, based on family customs. Today this intrigue shows up as I watch people pile food from their grocery carts to the cashier; each pile uniquely based on the individual, the family, and what is cultural or customary.

It probably owe thanks to the Grilled PB&J for my insatiable desire to reinvent the rules of the kitchen. Slicing apples the opposite way of ‘normal,’ taking the potatoes out of the oven and to the grill, searching for the next great lunchbox food for my kids, daring myself to attempt canning and/or to fry zucchini blossoms for the first time. It is that knowledge that just because I learned one way doesn’t mean there isn’t another. So I lean over the shoulders of my neighbors and ask the grocery line bystander what are you making with such an interesting array of ingredients?

Don’t get me wrong, I love the familiar favorites of my family. When I go to the store 90% of what I buy I have bought before. But I always try to add a few new things to the cart, or inject a new recipe from my magazine file. My favorite discoveries might be the shortcuts, like pesto in ice cube trays or making bread crumbs and then freezing them for future use. Food is a story I enjoy, a quintessential adventure where I can embrace all that is familiar and at the same time break all the rules.