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Maple Mustard Pork Tenderloin — For the Table That Still Comes Together

The week before Thanksgiving. I worked four shifts to bank hours. The shifts were busy. A woman came in with a heart attack on Tuesday — a fifty-eight-year-old who had been carrying a Thanksgiving turkey from her car to her front door and felt a crushing in her chest and dropped the turkey and called 911 from her stoop. We caught her in time. She survived. She told me, in the cardiac ICU the next morning, that her last thought before passing out had been, "The turkey." We laughed about that. Her husband had retrieved the turkey. Thanksgiving would happen.

Joseph confirmed his flights. He arrives Wednesday night. He stays through Sunday morning. He will sleep at Lourdes's. He will eat his weight in lechon kawali. He will arm-wrestle Mia on the kitchen floor and let her win.

I drove Lourdes to her doctor on Friday for her annual physical. Her bloodwork was good. Her blood pressure was high — borderline, the doctor said. The doctor put her on a low-dose medication. Lourdes resisted. Lourdes always resists medication. I sat with her at the appointment. I said, "Mama, take the pill." She said, "I will take the pill." She took the pill. The taking-the-pill was the small daughter-victory.

I made tinola on Sunday for Lourdes — chicken-ginger broth, low-sodium, gentle. I delivered it to her. She ate it. She did not say thank you. The not-saying was the saying. The two bowls were the gratitude.

After a week of cardiac monitors and hard-won small victories — the pill taken, the broth accepted, the turkey that nearly cost someone their holiday — I wanted something that felt like abundance without being a production. Joseph was coming. Lourdes was stable. I still had Thanksgiving to pull off. The maple mustard pork tenderloin has been my quiet workhorse for years: it looks like you planned it, it roasts fast, and it fills a kitchen with exactly the kind of smell that makes people put down their phones and drift toward the table. For a week that asked a lot of me, this was my way of giving something back.

Maple Mustard Pork Tenderloin

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 1/4 lb pork tenderloin, trimmed of silverskin
  • 3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
  • 2 tablespoons pure maple syrup
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil, divided
  • 2 cloves garlic, finely minced
  • 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Let the pork tenderloin rest at room temperature for 10 minutes while you prepare the glaze.
  2. Make the glaze. In a small bowl, whisk together the Dijon mustard, maple syrup, minced garlic, thyme, and smoked paprika until smooth and well combined.
  3. Season the pork. Pat the tenderloin dry with paper towels. Season all sides with kosher salt and black pepper.
  4. Sear for color. Heat 1/2 tablespoon of the olive oil in an oven-safe skillet (cast iron works well) over medium-high heat. Add the tenderloin and sear for 2 minutes per side — about 6 minutes total — until golden brown on all sides.
  5. Glaze and roast. Remove the skillet from heat. Brush the maple mustard glaze generously over the entire surface of the tenderloin. Transfer the skillet to the preheated oven and roast for 15–18 minutes, until an instant-read thermometer inserted at the thickest point reads 145°F.
  6. Rest before slicing. Transfer the tenderloin to a cutting board and tent loosely with foil. Let rest for 5 minutes — this step matters; it keeps the juices in the meat, not on the board. Slice into 1-inch medallions and serve with any pan drippings spooned over the top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 235 | Protein: 29g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 310mg

Grace Santos
About the cook who shared this
Grace Santos
Week 399 of Grace’s 30-year story · Anchorage, Alaska
Grace is a thirty-seven-year-old ER nurse in Anchorage, Alaska — Filipino-American, single, and the person her entire community calls when they need a hundred lumpia for a party or a shoulder to cry on after a hard shift. She cooks to cope with the things she sees in the emergency room, feeding her neighbors and her church and anyone who looks like they need a plate. Her adobo could bring peace to a warring nation. Her schedule could kill a lesser person.

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