Marmalade Pork Tenderloin

The first kayakers on the inlet. The first fishermen on the dock. A quiet shift Saturday — appendicitis, a fishhook in a thumb, a college student's alcohol. The quiet was the gift.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous. Joseph and Suki sent photos of the kids this week.

I made lechon kawali Saturday. The pork belly, the brining, the deep fry, the crackle. The kitchen smelled of hot oil for two days.

The blog post this week was about kitchen rituals at Anchorage latitudes. It got six hundred comments.

The week was ordinary. The ordinary is the point now. The ordinary is the keeping.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

Angela texted me a photo of the kids. I texted back a heart. The exchange took thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was the keeping.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

The therapy session this month was about pacing. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The pacing is the love for the future self." I am working on the pacing. The pacing is harder than the loving.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

The lechon kawali was Saturday’s project — the brine, the long fry, the crackle that made the kitchen smell of hot oil until Monday morning — and I do not regret a single minute of it. But not every night can be a Saturday project, and on the nights when Dr. Reeves’s words about pacing are still fresh in my head and the freezer inventory is already done and the tea is already made, I want pork on the table with less ceremony and the same intention. This marmalade tenderloin is that answer: sweet, savory, quick enough for a Tuesday, and honest about what it is.

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

Ingredients

1 pork tenderloin (about 1 lb)
1/3 cup orange marmalade
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 425°F. Pat the pork tenderloin dry with paper towels and season on all sides with salt and black pepper.
Make the glaze. In a small bowl, whisk together the marmalade, soy sauce, Dijon mustard, minced garlic, and red pepper flakes if using. Set aside.
Sear the tenderloin. Heat olive oil in an oven-safe skillet over medium-high heat. Add the tenderloin and sear for 2–3 minutes per side until browned all over, about 6–8 minutes total.
Glaze and roast. Spoon half the marmalade glaze over the tenderloin, turning to coat. Transfer the skillet to the preheated oven and roast for 15–18 minutes, basting with the remaining glaze halfway through, until an internal thermometer reads 145°F.
Rest and slice. Remove from the oven and let the tenderloin rest for 5 minutes before slicing. This keeps the juices in the meat where they belong.
Serve. Slice into medallions, spoon any pan drippings over the top, and garnish with fresh parsley. Serve with steamed rice or roasted vegetables.

Nutrition (per serving)

Marmalade Pork Tenderloin — When the Week Asks for Pork and You Give It Pork