Ginger pear pork chops

A while back, we were sitting around the dinner table with some friends. She'd brought pear-ginger sorbet for dessert. I'm sitting there, eating that stuff, when inspiration struck - "I'll bet this'd be fan-freakin-tastic on pork!"

Next day, I grabbed some pears and some ginger root and went to work. Basically, I made an applesauce concoction out of ginger and pears, and then just baked the chops in that sauce.

Ingredients:
2-3 fresh pears, any variety that suits, peeled and quartered
1"-2" fresh ginger root, peeled and grated
1 tbsp sugar
Lemon juice to taste (don't go all crazy here - just a dash)
Water
Pork chops

Da Bidness:
Put first four ingredients into a saucepan. Add water as necessary - the pears will generate quite a bit of their own.
Cook, stirring occasionally, until the pears are cooked through, roughly 15-20 minutes.

Put chops in a baking pan of your choice, and liberally slather them with the pear sauce. Bake at 400 for 20-25 minutes.

Always read the label

A few nights ago, I was cooking filet mignon for Steph and I. It was a pretty simple recipe - pan fry the filets in a little oil, set 'em aside, deglaze the pan with red wine, add a little beef stock and shallots and cook down, and finish with cognac. The recipe (believe it or not) was from a weight watchers cookbook - surprisingly yummy stuff.

While I was watching this stuff cook, it occurred to me that it was going to be somewhat thin, and I prefer a sauce with a little more body than what I was seeing. Given that the final result was intended to be relatively low-fat, cream was clearly out. I didn't have time to make a roux. Then, inspiration struck - cornstarch! It works great for chinese cooking, right?

So, I reached into the pantry, grabbed the box, mixed it with a little water, and waited for the right moment to dump it in. When I thought it was time, I poured. Rather than thickening, the entire mixture foamed a little, then turned the color of india ink. More precisely, india ink with shallots floating in it. I thought, "well, dammit, that's ugly. Maybe it'll still taste OK..." If "OK" means "looks like ink, but tastes like paint" then it was OK.

I thought about cornstarch, chemistry classes in college, homebrewing, mixing custom finishes and everything else in the mental Rolodex. I couldn't figure out why, exactly, this had happened. What had reacted with the cornstarch? What the hell reacts with cornstarch, anyway? Was it the wine? The sugars in the cognac? I knew it wasn't the beef stock, at any rate.

We dumped the stuff, and had the steaks plain, all the while staring at the black goo in the bowl on the table. I chalked up the whole thing as an experience. I'd have chalked it up as a learning experience, but I didn't really learn anything since I couldn't figure it out. So, still confused, I set to cleaning up the kitchen, and I found the little box I'd grabbed earlier sitting on the counter.

An orange box. With an arm. And a hammer.

Baking soda.