Pecan-Crusted Boneless Pork Chops

It's time for another recipe. Although I've really cut down on eating meat, I still like to take the time to grill up a nice cut on the weekends. This weekend I pulled two boneless pork loin chops out of the freezer and began to consider how I would prepare them.

If you have a good cut of meat, you can never go wrong with salt, pepper, a bit of olive oil, and a well seasoned gas grill. And these two chops were almost half an inch thick--perfect for grilling.

But I had something more elaborate in mind. In particular, I wanted to use some of the pecan halves I bought from the nut and seed guy in the commissary a couple of weeks ago. Pecans are imported, of course, and extremely expensive no matter what time of the year you buy them, often costing USD 30 or more per kilo.

But I do get tired of almonds and pistachios and I don't care for walnuts all that much, and sometimes I get a hankering for pecans. As a result, there was half a kilo of pecans sitting in my fridge.

Pecan-crusted grilled chops sounded like just the thing but I hadn't tried this particular preparation technique before and wondered how to get the nuts to stick to the chops.

As usual, I turned to The Joy of Cooking for inspiration. There I found a recipe for a yogurt-based marinade that I thought would work well. Here is my variation on their recipe.

• 8 oz plain unsweetened yogurt
• 2 Tbsp yellow mustard (Dijon would work great but I couldn't find any in the commissary; the original recipe called for powdered mustard but I thought that regular mustard would work fine and it did)
• 2 to 3 Tbsp honey (this is my addition; I thought it would make a nice counterpoint to the mustard and mesh well with the pecans; plus sugar in a marinade tends to make a glaze when grilled, which I thought would help keep the pecans stuck to the meat)
• 3 lg cloves garlic peeled and minced
• 1/2 cup pecan halves chopped

Mix all ingredients in a shallow bowl. Completely cover meat with the marinade. Marinate in the fridge for 2 hours, turning the meat a couple of times.

Grill slowly on a piece of foil.

The pork came out perfect: evenly cooked and incredibly moist, and studded with pecan bits.

I served the chops with frozen spinach, which after I thawed by microwaving, I sauteed in butter and olive oil with some salt. Yeah, I know, frozen vegetables aren't my first choice but I always keep some around since fresh spinach is hard to come by here.

Training Azza (5)

I mentioned that my big-dog friends like to let Azza play with their dogs. Here are some photos of Azza playing with Nellie. It's not the nicest yard but it happened to be the one we decided to try on the day that I remembered to bring my camera.

PM worries that Nellie might be a bully. She does like to pound the stuffing out of my rambunctious puppy but always stops when Azza lets her know she has had enough.

A tired dog is a good dog. She's covered with sand and dog spit. Like she cares.

Here is a nice picture of a tired pup who decided that curling up next to Harry was better than being wiggly and annoying. He is fine with her being so close as long as she is quiet.

Summer Is Here!

Much hotter days are to come but Harry will still enjoy his weekend naps in the sun.

Training Azza (4)

With Azza's significant fear issues, I have been trying to introduce her to as many different experiences as I can. This means I walk a fine line between constant transition and routine, the latter being something that anxious dogs really need.

She's now more willing to approach scary new things. My "what is that?" command is well reinforced and she will nose-touch most scary things for a treat. I got her to nose touch then jump over some flapping safety hazard tape the other day. Her first response was to hackle up and growl at it. After the rewarded interaction, she ignored it, as she should have done from the beginning. It's a slow process.

I've got two friends with large dogs who like to walk with me and Harry and Mimi. My friends are also good sports and are willing to take walks with Azza too. (I never walk all three dogs at the same time. For one, I don't want to draw any attention to the fact that I have three dogs. I also find it extremely difficult to walk with Azza, who needs constant training still, and have a normal, restful walk with H and M at the same time.) When out with Azza, we've taken to slipping into yards of empty houses and letting our dogs blow off steam with some rough play and chasing. Azza is very consistent with her communication signals and really likes to play with the larger dogs.

If Azza were a fox terrier, this mounting behavior would result in a blood bath. Mimi is instead grabbing a toy to taunt her with.

Azza and Mimi continue to get along well. They don't play every day, although Azza certainly tries to initiate play with Mimi regularly, but when they do get going, it is quite the sight. Both dogs like to lie on their sides on the floor and jaw wrestle with gaping mouths. They never make a sound.

Jaw wrestling. This is a game of display. They never actually make contact.

Kicking each other is part of the game too, although Azza has the advantage since she is all leg.

I'm not teaching the basic obedience or the agility classes right now but I did get rooked into offering a puppy class for four weeks during April. I took Azza with me each week, and it turned out to be an excellent experience for her. The trips from hovel to car and car to classroom always presented us with an array of new and scary things. Her anxiety over parked cars is noticeably reduced, although I still have to drag her from the sidewalk up to my car, claws squealing on the blacktop. But to my amazement, she has now  jumped into the back of my car and into her crate two times! I suspect that she finds doing it herself less stressful than having me pick her up. Whatever the motivation, I like the result!

This is a very good example of the many expectations that I have for all of my dogs. I expect them to sit and wait calmly at doorways or gates. I expect them to get into my car on their own (if they are able; Harry gets lifted in these days). I expect them to sit quietly in a crate and not charge the crate door as I am reaching to open it. I expect them to wait calmly while I make their dinner (I teach mat or spot training in all my classes and of course use this training tool myself; Azza has a special spot in the kitchen where she waits for her meals). I expect them to ignore our neighbors (no barking). I expect them to walk on a loose lead in a line parallel to my general path. Considering the short time I've had her and her tender age, Azza is really doing well with all of these behaviors.

Puppy class dog pile. Azza and another golden on the bottom.

There were men and women and even a kid in the puppy class, which was great not just for Azza but for all of the puppies involved. At the end of the second week, I played "pass the puppy" in which each family group passed their puppy to the next group, who proceeded to touch and pet and praise and give treats to the puppy for about 30 seconds, when it was time to pass the puppy on. Not only did the puppies learn to deal with and even accept different types of touching, but they were handled by different kinds of people, and they got used to greeting people when their owners were not hovering over them.

There were three goldens from the same litter, another desert dog, and a Chihuahua in the class in addition to Azza. I let the larger puppies play off lead with each other for a few minutes at the beginning of each class. Hovering dog moms and our token kid.

I took an agility tunnel to the puppy class for the last two weeks. I love this photo! The dedication of some dog owners never fails to awe and inspire! The darling in the lower right is of course the Chichi pup. He did eventually go through the curved tunnel without such extreme measures on the part of his owners.

 

The "pass the puppy" game was extremely successful and everyone really enjoyed it. The main problem was that Azza peed every single time a new person approached her. She peed 8 or 9 times during that game. I say nothing to her but I find this submissive/appeasing aspect of her personality to be quite unpleasant. 

I'm really hoping that the peeing will fade with time. A recent visit to the vet suggests that it might. 

I took Azza to the vet for a booster vaccination and the ladies behind the counter were gushing and cooing at the sight of her. They know me well, and one said, I heard you were teaching her fabulous tricks. I replied that, no, I've really just been focusing on building a relationship with her and on basic obedience. 

Both women came out to greet and pet her and to my amazement, she didn't pee. She crouched at their feet in a submissive posture but she didn't pee.

Then a family came in, a mom with a girl aged about eight and a boy aged about six. Both kids were fascinated by Azza, who was making googly eyes at them and thumping her skinny tail on the floor. When they asked, I told them they could pet her. All three of them approached her and while there was a bit too much raising of hands over her head (Azza is head shy like many anxious/fearful dogs), she seemed willing to tolerate it in exchange for all the attention. 

Meeting and greeting three new people, and she still didn't pee on the floor!

I patted the couch next to the boy, a signal that I have trained all my dogs to recognize as an invitation to join me on the furniture, and Azza immediately jumped up next to him, curling up and leaning into him. He pet her all over (thank goodness for solid training; you can touch her anywhere and she remains calm). Both of them really enjoyed this!

I called to one of the women behind the counter and said, I suppose you could consider this a fabulous trick!

Out of focus but you get the idea! Look at his arm ever so casually draped across her. This was not posed. I simply handed him the leash and snapped the photo with my phone.

The Price of Vanity

Not surprisingly, it turns out that the price of vanity is a pretty steep price indeed. I’ve had a minor medical saga that’s been going on for the past three months. It is at last coming to a close but there is no question that it has contributed greatly to my prolonged funk.

I decided to have some visible spider veins in my legs treated. Two patches on my left shin would turn very dark like bruises when my heart rate increased such as when I was really hot or when I was exercising. I found them unpleasant to look at. And because I wear shorts and skirts most of the year here, I was looking at them often. After some tests to make sure my veins and arteries and valves were functioning as they should, I arranged to have several areas of spider vein in my legs injected with a chemical that burns the tiny capillaries out.

The doctor clearly and on two occasions reviewed the risks with me: blood clots, ulcers at the injection sites, shifting of the spider veins to a nearby location, etc.I went ahead with the procedure fully informed of these risk. I want to be clear on this because what happened is not the doctor's fault.

The two patches on my left shin were large and required injection of a considerable volume of the caustic chemical. I had half a dozen other smaller areas treated at the same time. All is well with the small treatment areas. But within 3-4 days of the treatment, I developed two large ulcers, each about 2.5 cm in diameter, on my left shin. The chemical burned out the veins and the surrounding tissue as well.

I’ve been living with these open wounds on my leg for more than three months. They have to be treated with a type of antibiotic ointment that is used on burn victims (they were the result of chemical burns, after all) and covered at all times, mainly because it was very painful when fabric brushed against them. The doctor debrided both of them three times, an excruciatingly painful procedure in which he cut and scraped the dead tissue out. It felt like he was grabbing nerve fibers with tweezers and yanking them out of my leg. The ulcers were always extremely painful to the touch…I had to be careful that the dogs didn’t bump my leg.

There is no CVS here where I can get bandages or gauze or things like that. I managed to cadge some dressings from the doctor at each visit, but when those ran out I had to cobble together coverings for the ulcers out of eye patches, the only bandage I could find here that was large enough to cover them.

Finally, one of the ulcers got small enough to excise. Two weeks ago the doctor removed a lump of flesh from my leg about the size of a meatball and stitched me up with several yards of what felt like 30-lb test line. Now I had an entirely new type of wound to clean and care for. The incision was about 6 cm long. Not surprisingly, for the first week, it was very painful. But, amazingly, quickly, it began to heal. After two weeks, the doctor removed the external stitches (there are some dissolving ones inside) and seemed quite pleased with the result.

Even the quiet little Jordanian nurse seemed pleased, telling me “mafi mark, mafi mark,” an amusing conflation of Arabic and English (mafi means no or none). I agree: the thin scar that will eventually be left will certainly be better than the hideous round scar that would form if the ulcers were not removed—and who knows how many more months it would take for the ulcer to completely heal, if it ever did?

As an aside, I should mention that the excision procedure itself is rather messy. Only a local is used so I sat up and checked on things every so often out of morbid curiosity. The excision part itself goes quickly. Cauterizing the veins and arteries is a bit complicated; lots of them are exposed because of the depth of the incision. Because an electric current is used to cauterize them, I had to be grounded to the machine. Even with that, if the doctor held the probe to my tissue for too long, electricity would begin to flow through my leg and it would begin to twitch like I was some sort of frog in a dissection tray. He had to give me more local anesthetic injections to shut off the nerve response to keep my leg from moving. There was quite a bit of sizzling and smoking as well. Puts one right off beef, I'll tell you. But the stitching up part was by far the worst. I could feel every single tug and pull of the sutures; my brain was screaming "pain!" even though all I felt was pressure.

I don’t have to cover the first excision site now, and only have to apply some basic antibiotic ointment once a day for a few more days. Whew. Low maintenance wounds are a great improvement over those damned ulcers.

And at last, the second ulcer shrunk down to a manageable, or I should say, excisable size. It was cut out yesterday morning. Another 6-cm incision, another meatball removed, and more 30-lb test line. But by the time I head out for my holiday in mid-May, my medical saga should be behind me.

The price of vanity? I won’t have to worry about those damned spider veins on my shin now. No, I will now have scars to replace them.

Exceptional

One of the more frustrating aspects of living in Saudi Arabia is dealing with the extraordinary cultural exceptionalism of the locals. All cultures view themselves as unique from their neighbors; that is a fundamental aspect of culture. It’s the “we think we are better/behave better/think better than everyone else” part that causes problems.

Allow me to tell you a short story to illustrate the point.

I had Azza in the vet to get one of her vaccinations and there was a local couple in there at the same time. He was in western clothes, she was wearing an abaya and head scarf but didn’t cover her face.

A bit of an aside before I continue the story. You have to be very careful about assuming that a local male wearing western clothes is westernized. Although many of those who work at Aramco were educated OOK and exposed to modern concepts in science and technology and medicine and biology and so on, a surprisingly small number of those ideas remain with them upon their return. So on a daily basis you encounter such superstitious nonsense as “you should never eat an even number of dates; you can only digest them if you eat an odd number." 

So this man asked me if Azza was a saluki. I told him she was a mix. The woman then asked if she could pet Azza. I was surprised because most Arabs and Asians will not have a thing to do with dogs, will cross to the other side of the road to avoid passing us on the sidewalk, that sort of thing. I told her, sure, she could pet Azza. She reached down her hand to touch Azza’s head, and Azza promptly peed a bit on the floor and began licking the woman’s hand, both submissive/appeasement behaviors that drive me utterly mad (because she does them constantly even though appeasement isn't required). I have almost trained her to stop licking Harry, Mimi, me, and my friends and their dogs, but strangers are another matter. Then the guy told me that salukis are the “only dogs that muslims are allowed to own.” I was working out how to tell the woman that there was now some dog pee on the floor that she might want to avoid and didn’t quite hear him. I looked up and said “Allowed?” He said, yes, allowed by religion. I said, “Oh?” And then he came out with this conversation stopper: “Yes, because salukis have different chemicals in their mouths than other dogs and are therefore clean.”

Where do you go with that? Tell them that they are ignorant of basic biology? That such nonsense is not mentioned in any official text used by Islam (the Prophet Mohammed’s comments about dogs are in a couple of hadiths, and no hadith mentions salukis or their mouths)? Try to explain that the flora and fauna in salukis’ mouths are no different than any other dog's mouth? That just that morning Azza ate bird poop and worms off the sidewalk and licked her butt, and how exactly does that make her mouth clean?

I simply turned away to move Azza to another corner of the room. I’m going to hell anyway so I never mentioned that his wife’s abaya was dragging through dog pee.

Funk

I’ve been in a bit of a funk the past couple of months. Lots of stressors have contributed to this, including a lack of whine (poor planning on my part but a batch is on its way, perhaps three weeks from drinkable), some medical issues, being stuck IK since November because of further poor planning, not being able to walk the dogs in the mornings because of a large pack of aggressive feral dogs stalking the land, and being super busy at work.

I’ve posted before about my “method” for the blog. My method requires time for me to first ponder the stories I want to write about and then to sort out the language that I will use to tell them. Of course I have dashed off the occasional post on the fly but most of the time I have most of a post worked out in my head before I sit down at the keyboard. Being so busy at work has cut into my pondering time.

But back to the funk. It has specifically cut into my ability to live in the moment and find interesting stories to tell you. Not that interesting things aren’t happening around me. I live in Saudi Arabia after all, smack in the middle of the Middle East. Plenty of stupid, amazing, infuriating, awesome things going on all the time. Unfortunately, the funk is causing me to focus on the infuriating more than the entertaining and any story I start to tell quickly turns into a rant.

Another interesting corollary of living in Saudi Arabia is that ranting online is a particularly stupid and rapid way for you to lose your job. Heck, ranting in public will produce the same result. You even have to carefully choose with whom you share your rants. You certainly don’t want to go further and leave a public record of them.

But the funk is clearing. I’ve got a nice leave coming up in May with a good friend—you’ll hear plenty about that when I return.

And my dogs still love me.