And So It Goes

I ate the dish with a side of broccoli and capsicum, not over cooked and blended with its own Mediterranean flavour.

I ate alone, savouring each mouthful of this new dish that my husband and daughter had so lovingly prepared.

I had been out that night, so I didn't eat with the family, instead enjoying my meal later in relative quiet as the household slept.

My daughter emerged from a Skype conversation with an American friend.

As I ate, we spoke about the day's activities, but the delicious flavour of the meal distracted me.

I told her what I liked best about this dish. As a person who enjoys the flavour of pork, I liked the fact that the marinade did not take away from this very definite flavour, as marinades and sauces often do.

There are times, I told her, when it was difficult to tell what meat was under a marinade, so overpowering was the taste; but this was perfect.

I tasted both the marinade and the pork.

I told her how much I enjoyed a simple pork meal. I told her that when I was a child, I would request a roast pork for my birthday dinner.

I told her that this was among the best pork dinners I had ever had, adding that my experience in sampling pork meals was considerable.

She smiled. She listened, head slightly tilted. I thought she must have been enjoying my reminiscences and thankful for the compliment as she had been a co-chef on this meal.

And then the smile turned to a laugh. As I took my final mouthful, audibly expressing my culinary appreciation, she told me a shocker.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the pork, mum," she said. "Because this dish was made with chicken."

And it was no porky-pie either, even if I do tell this story on April Fools Day.

We now have a new chicken recipe, cooked with chicken, but re-badged as Pork Mediterranean. . . and there are lots of laughs around the table when it is served.