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This feels like a good night to be feeding people here.

I have a large hunk of pork, and some fresh apple juice from the farmers' market, and a big cast iron casserole. There's an association in my head between simple food and simple wares and comfort: peasant stuff. It's probably simplistic. But there it is, and so: I browned the pork, then sizzled red onion and carrot and celery and garlic and mushrooms. And put the pork back in, and sloshed apple juice over the top with a bit of pepper, and left it to seethe for a few hours. I'm roasting potatoes (in my own hand-rendered lard, because I want to see how that compares to the pleasures of duck and goose fat), and I'll toss some greens in oil and garlic and squeeze some lemon over the top; and while all that's going on I'll reduce the liquor in the pot and stir in some sour cream and see what happens. I had thought about thickening it with cooked-down apple, but I have no tart green apples at this time and I think it's sweet enough, so we'll either go with the thing itself or stiffen it a little with a bit of beurre manie, depending how runny it looks. If the onions oblige me by breaking down a bit, it may pass.

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