The OTHER White Meat . . .

A couple of nights ago, I attended a press dinner and, as with most, the chef of this barely year-old restaurant pulled out all the stops to impress those in attendance. The dishes were magnificently arranged, thoughtfully planned out and most if not all were drop-dead delicious. I even found myself noshing on food items that don’t normally pass my lips every day—short rib ravioli, grilled octopus replete with suction cups attached and porcini crusted bisteca.

One other item that I indulged in, against what I thought was my sound judgment and the voices inside my head shouting at me “No, don’t do it! You’re gonna die!”, was a center-cut pork loin. Sounds tame enough, right? But here’s the rub: if anyone should steer clear of pork, it’s me. Notwithstanding that surreal and freaky bacon incident in Barbados a few months ago, pork should not be on my radar because of an incident many moons ago which caused me to ban it (shortly followed by beef) from my culinary repertoire.

About twenty-five years ago, after a week-long binge on pork in almost every conceivable form for breakfast, lunch and dinner, it was inevitable that I contract the deadly trichinosis. Oh. The. Horror. It is a pain that I never ever want to relive again in life as long as I am a Black woman (and I plan to be that until, oh, say, the day I leave this earth). Since that time, I have watched strangers, friends and family members alike scarf down pork like it was going out of style and about to be outlawed tomorrow, while I would respectfully decline to ingest the meat of death (except, of course, for the aforementioned Barbados bacon fling).

Back to the center-cut pork loin.

When the chef did his little ditty about how he prepared the dish, one phrase gave me pause for cause. He stated that the pork was cooked medium-rare. Really? Medium-rare? For a woman who suffered the near-debilitating ills of trichinosis, that sounded like death on a plate to me.

But then I did a bit of research, and what I uncovered was quite interesting . . . well, as interesting as you can make the topic of pork.

In May 2011 the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) announced new guidelines for cooking pork. It seems that the good folks over there at the Food Safety Inspection Service (FSIS), an arm of the USDA, has updated its recommendations on safe temperatures to cook and consume pork, which dropped from a previous heat level of 160°F down to 145°F, with the stipulation that there be a three minute rest time prior to carving and/or eating.

Who’da thunk it?

My best guess, for the novices in the kitchen, is that this would involve the use of a food thermometer; unfortunately, despite popular belief, you can’t simply look at the pork and determine if it’s reached the optimum temperature of 145°F. Better safe than sorry, right? But it’s funny how many people actually do just that—look at their food to establish its level of doneness. But eyeballing it isn’t any more accurate than pulling out a crystal ball, swirling your hands in the air and yelling “abracadabra” for the magical answer.

The FSIS is clear on its position that even though pork may appear pink in color when cooked, this isn’t necessarily an indication that it’s undercooked, especially given these new guidelines. Tell that to my gag reflex.

But you know what? I put on my big girl panties and tried that medium-rare, pink-on-the-inside pork loin complemented by a stewed Napa cabbage and golden raisins medley and it was impeccable. There wasn’t much I would have done to alter it—except perhaps transform it into a turkey cutlet, but that’s neither here nor there.

So the long and short of this post is this: for all of the down 'n dirty pork eaters out there, stop killing your pork a second time by overcooking it and drying the life (and flavor) out of it. You don’t need to desiccate the meat to feel self-assured of its safety. Just ask the USDA.