Marination Nation: Feta For The Win

I needed an easy appetizer to take to the annual gathering of "lady food writers" the other night—spectacularly talented writers, cookbook authors and cooks all—and was not feeling inspired. That is, until I saw that one of my favorite cheesemakers, Fraga Farmstead Creamery, had posted on social media that they would have fresh feta at their farmers' market booths over the weekend.

Simply chop and stir…

As luck would have it, one of those farmers' markets happened to be in our neighborhood, and I knew this crowd would be the perfect audience for Fraga's stellar cheese. So I got myself dressed and out of the house Saturday morning, shimmied over to the market, bought a jar of snow-white feta cubes swirling in whey brine, and rewarded myself for the effort with a breakfast bowl of Umi Organic noodles. (I think I deserved it, don't you?)

…marinate and serve!

The day of the gathering I simply drained the whey, reserving the brine for later use, and transferred the cubes of cheese to a bowl where I added chopped herbs from the garden, olive oil, chile flakes and garlic. I left it on the counter for a couple of hours, swished it around a few times, placed it on a platter lined with grape leaves foraged from my neighbor's vines, added triangles of pita, and took it to the party. Raves ensued.

I can't wait to crumble more of this amazing feta into a shrimp salad this summer, or tuck it into a hamburger patty for stuffed cheeseburgers. Yes, it's that good!

Feta Marinated with Herbs, Garlic and Lemon

1/2 lb. brick feta cheese
Olive oil
Fresh herbs (oregano, thyme, tarragon)
Zest of half lemon
1 medium clove garlic, minced
1/4 tsp. red chile flakes

Cut feta into 1/2" cubes. Place in medium-sized mixing bowl along with herbs, zest, garlic and chile flakes. Add enough oil to barely cover and mix gently. Place in refrigerator for at least two hours, stirring occasionally. Serve with pita wedges.

On the High Wire with a Big Hunk of Meat

I've always had a certain fear of large hunks of animal flesh.

I know, I know…you're thinking, "But Kathleen, weren't you just butchering half of a pig (your second) just a couple of weeks ago? Wazzup?"

Herb marinade ingredients.

So I guess I should modify my phobia: my fear is cooking a large hunk of animal flesh and ruining it. And there's nothing like eight-plus pounds of gorgeous standing rib pork roast to make my knees start knocking. Add in the fact that it was the main course for Christmas dinner with company and you've got the makings for a world-class disaster, one I'd never hear the end of.

"Remember the time you practically burned down the kitchen and ruined Christmas dinner?" The words echoed in my head.

All dressed and ready.

Then there was the fact that I'd decided to use a recipe for a fennel, lemon and herb marinade I'd read in the New York Times. Problem was, Melissa Clark, whose recipes I like and trust, had used it on a crown roast, not a standing rib. So aside from the rub itself, all her other sage advice about how to make it the crowning achievement (no pun intended) of the dinner was pretty much useless.

I nevertheless forged ahead, pulled the roast out of the freezer in plenty of time for it to thaw, made the rub and got it marinating on Christmas morning. Dinner was scheduled for evening—we're not mid-day holiday diners—and I made sure I had a couple of instant-read thermometers that actually worked.

Coming off the bone.

With the size of the roast, I was estimating two or two-and-a-half hours. It was originally going to go on the grill, another holiday tradition, but the weather was awful (bone-chilling cold and rain) and Dave was threatening to come down with a cold. So into the oven it was going. Our guests came, we drank and snacked and I checked the temperature starting about 90 minutes in.

The carving…whew!

The roast itself had gone in the roasting pan backbone down, with the ribs sticking up, following Clark's instructions to roast it at 450° for 20 minutes, then at 350° for the remainder of the cooking time. We'd decided on pulling it when it reached 135°, then letting it rest for twenty minutes. I was the designated carver, and with some sound advice from the guys in attendance I sliced down under the ribs and against the backbone. This freed the roast completely and it plopped onto the cutting board in one piece, making it possible to simply slice the roast into what looked like boneless chops. As a bonus, I also sliced between the ribs and piled them on a side plate for those of us who like to have something to gnaw on.

Truly succulent, it was indeed a glorious achievement, one I'll definitely be proud to hear about in the future. And though I'm not totally over my fear—high-stakes occasions are always at least somewhat fraught—I'll definitely have more confidence the next time I try this type of high-wire act.

Fennel, Lemon and Herb Rub for Pork
Adapted from The New York Times

1 1/2 tsp. fennel seeds
Rosemary leaves from 2 bushy sprigs
5 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1/4 c. sage leaves and tender sprigs
Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
1 tsp. fennel pollen (optional)
1 Tbsp. coarse kosher salt
5 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1 tsp. cracked black pepper

Place fennel seeds in small dry skillet over medium heat until they are fragrant, about 1 minute. Keep moving them around the pan so they don't scorch—you're just trying to bring out the essential oils. Combine all ingredients in a blender and process until they make a paste. Rub all over pork roast* and allow to marinate in the fridge for at least 2 hours or overnight.

* If you're using a pork leg roast or rolled roast, you can untie it and rub it inside the roast as well. Then you can retie it or roast open-faced, either way.

** The USDA recently modified the cooking temperature for pork to 145°…we feel that's still a bit high, but you should use your own judgment.