Tonight Mr. Domestik and I tackled pork loin. And by we tackled, I clearly mean that he tackled it while I juggled the taxing dual roles of sous-chef and wine drinker (I may no longer be a domestik hater, but I'm certainly no domestik goddess yet either).
Disclaimer about the pork dish: I've never been a huge fan of the swine in any of its edible permutations. Don't like bacon, don't like ham, don't like...well that's not true, do like prosciutto, but I refuse to let a cured meat that I have to google in order to spell correctly mar my otherwise pristine list of loathsome pork products.
The results of tonight's experiment, however, were UH-mazing. Like, to die for. Way to go Mr. D.! You make domesticity so yummy and fun, and continue to expand my horizons, both culinary and otherwise.
A generous heap of butter hit the pan, and my skepticism about the recipe began to melt right along with it
Pecans floating in a pool of butter...yessir, we're definitely on the right path here...
Mr. D. using his beloved new carving knife to butterfly the pork. Pardon me while I slip out to watch Bravo and skip this portion of the cooking program
PS--the irony of my watching "The Real Housewives of DC" while the hubby cooked was not lost on me
Domestic Dog Tater looks on with disdain. He wonders why we are cooking pork when he caught us a perfectly good fox...
The pecan paste is being laid, not unlike cement (and I mean this is the BEST, most gluttonous way possible)
Tyin' her up...
Stuffed and bound (this looks like how I felt in my wedding gown the end of the night...)
Voila! The final product. It was an amazing meal and we'll def tackle again during one of our Wednesday night dinners
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