Tag Archives: roast

Pork Roast with Apples and Onions

This lovely post on the P-Dub’s site caused some swift action in my kitchen. I wasn’t going to put this on my list of recipes-to-make and let it sit around for months, waiting its turn. I had to make it immediately. So I bought the ingredients and bellowed “Haruzziah!”

All Sunday afternoon it cooked away in the oven, infusing our apartment with the most delectable smells. And the flavors! Onions cooked to sweetness, tart apples, rich, tender pork with its flavor deepened by the beef stock . . . aaaah!

Plus, this is one of those meals that keeps excellently in the fridge and just gets better with time. Granted that the leftovers resemble a pile of brown who-knows-what, but once you take a bite, you won’t be complaining!


( Serves 8 )

3 TBS olive oil
1 3-4 lb pork shoulder roast (pork butt)
Salt and pepper, to taste
4 cups apple juice
1 cup beef stock
3 apples
3 onions
2 bay leaves

As you can see, I went ahead and sliced the onion up for the ingredients picture. I was in maximum efficiency mode. Stomachs were growling, hunger was churning.

Core the apples and cut them into wedges.

No need to peel ’em!

Sauté the onions in a large Dutch oven until brown.

I should note that this is optional—you can also just add them raw to the roast. Set the onions aside.

Sprinkle the meat all over with salt and pepper.

Heat the oil in the Dutch oven, and when hot, sear the pork roast on all sides, sprinkling it liberally with more salt and pepper as it cooks.

I chose to take care of this in the cast iron skillet as the onions cooked in the Dutch oven, once again in the interest of time.

But ideally you’ll sear it in the same pot it’s going to slow-cook in, so that all the flavor is contained.

Looking brown and glorious!

At this point it became apparent that with the size of the hunk of pork and the bounty of apples and onions, the green Dutch oven was not going to cut it. So we made a move that is now becoming strangely familiar . . .

. . . and divided it into 2 Dutch ovens. Double the ovens, double the fun.

In retrospect, I think everything could have fit it the black cast iron Dutch oven, which may be slightly bigger. But no harm done either way! The result was delicious pork, and I have no regrets.

Lower the heat, and add the apple juice, apple slices, onions, beef stock and bay leaves.

Try and make sure the meat is as submerged as possible., then cover and either simmer it on the stove or place it in the oven at 300 F for 3 hours.

You can use this time to crochet, watch an episode of 30 Rock, do some Pilates, or work on your photo album. Or lie in a salivating stupor on the couch, awaiting the moment when the pork will be yours. Though I don’t recommend that last option–it could make those 3 hours feel like an eternity. Here, I’ll make up an annoying poem:

Busy hands make time go fast
so do some work and have a blast
but if you lie upon the couch
you will just become a grouch

No more moralizing, I promise–but that poem just had to come out.

You can also use this time to cook up a batch of wild rice:

When the roast is done . . .

. . . you must examine the tenderness of the meat. I broke this one apart a little, but the other roast stayed magnificently in one beautiful piece. Either way works, depending on the kind of presentation you’re going for.

Remove the meat to a serving plate along with the onions and apples.

But we’re not done yet!

 Yes, it looks and smells delicious–but we’re about to take the yumminess up a notch. Actually, more like ten notches. So cover that meat with foil to keep it warm while we begin the final and imperative step.

Turn the heat on the stove to high, and violently boil the remaining liquid in the pot for about 15 minutes, until thick. Here are some before and after pictures so that you can see how quickly it reduces:

Is this really necessary? someone may ask. (They will especially ask this if the growling roars in their stomach have graduated from kittycat to mountain lion levels.)

And the answer is: YES! This part is essential!

Don’t even think of skipping it.

Think gravy, but even better. This makes the dish. Spoon the sauce over the pork, and serve it all over rice! Only then will you understand. See, I considered skipping the sauce step, but after one bite, I became a true believer.

Spoon it generously, people! I want to see you swimming in sauce.

These pictures can’t possibly convey what I want to convey.

It’s just too brown.

But your taste buds will sing!


Click here for printer-friendly version: Pork Roast with Apples and Onions

Project ice cream space

Last night I processed some pictures. Pictures of a certain Lodge, a certain basset hound named Charlie, and a certain woman named Ree Drummond.  I’m thinking either Friday or Monday I will finally face the world with the PW Weekend series, part #1.

Why haven’t I snappity snapped out parts 1-70 already, you ask? Well, see, I have this guy that hangs around my apartment who likes to call himself my ‘husband’, and this man-creature has been requiring my attention for a couple evenings. I know–the nerve! But after all the busyness of the past couple weekends, we were waaaaay behind on our snuggling quota. And that may take priority over, um, blogging? Um, if that’s OK with you? So for today, a story of meat and ice cream and their ongoing battle in our home.

Are you upset that I’m making you wait? OK, fine.

Here’s a completely gratuitous picture of Ree. I snapped it last Friday night.


OK, great. And now for something completely different.

I blogged a while ago about how full our freezer was, and conveyed my hopes of freeing up some space so that for the first time in over a year we could fit in some ice cream.

That hasn’t happened yet, but to spur ourselves on towards our goal, we have officially inaugurated the policy of using the food we have until the ice cream fits. I am no longer welcome to shop in the fish or meat section of our grocery store and refill the freezer gaps we create with new frozen delights. And I’ve only broken this rule about 3 times! I consider that a triumph. The only thing I’m truly dreading is having to cook that dang duck. Duck seems like the kind of dish that could go horribly wrong, doesn’t it?

Significant progress was made in Project Ice Cream Space a few Saturdays ago, when the late hour of 10pm found us immersed in a cooking tornado.

The second arm roast from my grandfather Big Jake, an unwieldly hunk of meat responsible for occupying a solid 15% of our freezer, had been defrosting all day. From experience, we knew this arm roast would not fit into one pot. So we did it again–we made two pot roasts out of the one arm roast.

Have you ever cooked late at night? It has a completely different feel to it. It adds a component of madness. And frenzy–a frenzy to get to the relaxing part of Saturday night. Knives, onion skins, and raw meat seemed to be everywhere.

I used the same recipe that I’ve shared before. It has blueberries, it has balsamic vinegar, and if you don’t try this amazing combination, the word ‘friend’ will hold no more meaning betwixt us. That’s right, it’s a pot roast ultimatum.

I just have to draw the line between ‘friends’ and ‘enemies’ somewhere, folks. I hold firm to my values of peace, love, truth, Balsamic Blueberry Pot Roast Delight, and justice.

Just kidding! Please keep being my friend. Thank you.

By the end of all the cookery we were ready to settle in and watch a movie. My dishwasher/sous chef was pretty beat.

I dutifully set my alarm for 6am the next day so that I could pop the roasts in the oven bright and early. . . and then scramble back into bed.

As a result of all this madness, soon our freezer will have room for some French Vanilla. Chocolate Caramel. Peanut Butter Chocolate. Mango Sorbet.

Since the theme of this post is obviously ‘excess,’ tomorrow I will be posting the result of another excessive venture: Mini Pumpkin Muffins. They are delicious. They are addictive. And the recipe made 72 of these little orange guys. That’s for a household of 2 people. I’ve been eating those guys for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and hoping that my metabolism can just pretend they never happened.

Dear Metabolism,

Please do some magical math and make the dozens of mini pumpkin muffins I ate become a smaller number. Please take any excess fat that may have been consumed and churn it into energy as quickly as possible. Do not allow the aforesaid fat to think it’s welcome to stay. It’s not! It must go! EVERYTHING MUST GO!

Anyway, I promise to do some leg lifts or something tomorrow when I have some more time, and we can make ammends with the laws of physics and biology at that point.

Thank you for your consideration,


P.S. This is especially urgent since project ice cream space is about to allow more fat-laden foods into my home. Please get back to me with a response at your earliest convenience.

Recipe for mini pumpkin muffies will be up tomorrow! You may want to write advance letters to your own metabolism–or invite over 72 friends so that there is a ratio of only one muffin per person.