Not even SW19 is UPF-free these days, darlings. I know because last week I snuck into the All England Lawn Tennis Club with a clear mission: to conduct one of my Ultra-Processed Food audits. My findings were not pretty, mes choux, not at all. And so without going into too much detail, let me just say that if you’re attending next week then you’re much better off taking a Wylde picnic.
One of the lesser known aspects of the Championships is that, at night, the courts are grazed by sheep. You might find this difficult to believe, darlings, but I swear it’s the truth. It’s why the grass is so short and springy. As the last tired and emotional fan weaves their way towards the gates and their cab home, in come the sheep.
That’s how I got in, and that’s how I met John McEnroe.
Under deep cover (dressed head to toe in Andrew’s sheepskins), yours truly was a fox in sheep’s clothing….
UPF audit accomplished, I was on my way back out of the club when I accidentally found myself once again caught up with the flock. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever been caught up in the middle of a flock of sheep, darlings, but it’s really quite difficult to extricate oneself. Even as a fox. And so there I found myself, being corralled into Centre Court by a really rather delicious sheepdog called Molly the Collie.
As the flock bleated and baahed its way into that hallowed theatre of champions, I confess to having been more than a little surprised to discover that, Molly aside, I was not the only non-sheep interloper.
From somewhere deep within the middle of the flock emerged a distinctly New York accent:
“Oh come on!,” it pleaded. “Again? Really? You CANNOT be serious!”
Intrigued, to say the least, I made my way towards the voice. And there he was, 80s wildchild and all round superstar, John McEnroe. “It happens every year, man,” he complained, before we’d even been introduced. “They figure I’m a sheep, and I get herded into here and expected to eat grass.”
I was about to ask why he is so often confused with a sheep but on noticing his incredibly fleecy head of white hair, I thought better of it.
“I don’t like grass,” said McEnroe, reasonably enough. “But I am hungry!”
It was time, darlings, to take some foxy executive action.
“Do you like Korean food, John?”
“You betcha!”, said the tennis legend enthusiastically. “Right,” I said, “follow me!”
As we turned to leave, I looked straight at that delectable collie who’d heard the whole thing. “And Molly,” I said, raising an eyebrow suggestively, “perhaps you’d like to join us?”
“Yes!” said Molly, wagging her beautiful tail, before pressing play on her K-Pop playlist.
And so as the strains of Psy’s global megahit broke out, and in an effort to further impress the object of my desires, I told McEnroe that there’d be no redcurrant gochujang glazed pork (recipe below) unless he danced his way out of Centre Court with me. He wasn’t happy, as you can see, but he was hungry enough to oblige me.
“Oppa Gangnam Style!” I said victoriously, smiling at Molly.
“Woof!” barked the stunning collie approvingly.
Woof, indeed, darlings….
Woof, woof 😉
Reynard
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REDCURRANT GOCHUJANG GLAZED PORK
Serves 2 – 4 (depending on whether you serve with rice, darlings)
Yes, mes choux, I do know that redcurrants aren’t a traditional Korean ingredient, but they’re in season and they really do work beautifully in Korean-style cooking—especially where tart, fruity acidity enhances fermented, spicy, or grilled elements. Just trust me, darlings, this silver fox knows what he’s talking about.
Ingredients
500g thinly sliced pork collar steak or shoulder
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp sesame oil
1 tbsp sesame seeds (toasted)
2 tsp rice wine (or dry sherry)
1 tsp grated ginger
Pinch of salt
300g fresh redcurrants (plus more for garnish)
2 tbsp gochujang (Korean chili paste)
1 tbsp honey
1 tbsp rice vinegar
Instructions
Marinade:
Mix the pork with half of the soy sauce and sesame oil, and all of the rice wine, ginger, and salt. Let it sit for 15–30 minutes. Open yourself one of Greg’s delicious beers, darlings. It’s the perfect accompaniment.
Glaze:
In a saucepan, simmer the redcurrants, gochujang, honey, vinegar, along with the remainder of the soy sauce and sesame oil. Stir and mash the berries as they break down. Reduce until glossy and slightly thick. This should take 5–8 minutes or so. Taste and adjust with extra sweetness or acid to balance the spice.
Cook:
Grill or fry the pork until it’s cooked and beginning to nicely caramelise. Towards the end of the cooking time (to avoid burning), brush it with the redcurrant glaze.
Serve:
Sprinkle the pork with toasted sesame seeds and a few whole redcurrants and serve either in lettuce leaf ‘wraps’, or with rice. Either way, you’ll certainly want oodles and oodles of lovely kimchi, darlings. And more beer.