tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52641663472639142372024-02-19T02:29:13.979-08:00Philip's SensesPhilip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-54376175213300745182013-10-30T14:58:00.001-07:002013-10-30T14:58:42.184-07:00Article about The Straw Buyer in The Herald Tribune
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While in Sarasota recently, I was interviewed by Michael Braga, for The Herald Tribune. He was the recipient of the National Journalism Award and finalist for a Pulitzer Prize for a 2010 series on real estate flipping. Read it <a href="http://www.heraldtribune.com/article/20131017/ARTICLE/310179987/2055/NEWS?Title=Sarasota-real-estate-frauds-are-basis-for-crime-novel" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-33820861793571980042013-07-17T06:16:00.000-07:002013-07-17T06:16:08.109-07:00Finally, my new novel, <i>The Straw Buyer</i>, is available as an eBook in all the eBookstores for only $3.99. For more about it, here is a short <a href="http://youtu.be/mmvXa5fzKgQ" target="_blank">video</a> describing it.Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-10402761897676540932013-07-02T08:48:00.000-07:002013-07-02T08:48:01.693-07:00After the rejections<div class="MsoNormal">
I have ignored this blog for much too long as I put it aside
to finish writing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Straw Buyer</i>. I
suppose that I subconsciously hoped that my next posting would announce that I
had found an incredible agent to represent my novel. It never happened. That was
not for a lack of trying. I wrote to over a hundred agents who specialize in
this genre, being careful to follow their submission guidelines demanded on
their websites. One notable stipulation that they all shared was a summary of
authors’ previous successes. What had I published in the past and how many copies
were sold? What marketing tools would I add to help sell the book? A blog?
Good, how many followers do you have? Five, you say?<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Most agents replied with form rejections that appeared to have been
written by the same person. Some were very kind. Many didn’t reply at all. A
few actually asked for partial or complete submissions of the manuscript then waited months before saying that
it wasn’t for them. Were they hanging on to it just in case they might possibly
use it if nothing better would come along? Finally, one agent offered to
represent me provided that I take an ax to the beginning and murder my first
character within the first few pages. I sharpened my knife and went at it with
a vengeance. My knife dulled quickly as I felt that I was cutting the heart out
of my story. I pared the beginning, indiscriminately slashed thousands of
words, looked at it again, and hated the results. I finally settled on a place
in-between.</div>
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Before resubmitting to the agent, I purchased a novel he had
written and couldn’t finish it. I asked myself if he was the right person to
represent my writing and concluded that I might be better off on my own. He had
already made it clear to me that any success my book might potentially receive
would be dependant on my ability to sell it. He explained that it was the new
reality in today’s publishing climate. So that is exactly what I intend to do;
publish it myself as an eBook. Watch for it soon at an eRetailer near you.</div>
Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-20904889730855793462012-01-25T10:48:00.000-08:002012-02-09T11:18:49.678-08:00Secrets of the Phantom Fleet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJszfg1EuF31mluvwRQ7agSKj2xnqr2Sh9VwbslARv-wpmKZwy0JB-K2QLyhCFpVQDSYuQHszVqSrT8AOi4dk4xRF5zF6t9uYfXOhXn2CmdwCOCn51FsiiadxPyZAdlYfE8KrlNy5Lb_k/s1600/Montage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJszfg1EuF31mluvwRQ7agSKj2xnqr2Sh9VwbslARv-wpmKZwy0JB-K2QLyhCFpVQDSYuQHszVqSrT8AOi4dk4xRF5zF6t9uYfXOhXn2CmdwCOCn51FsiiadxPyZAdlYfE8KrlNy5Lb_k/s320/Montage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Look for my article in the February issue of SAILING MAGAZINE. Join the adventures of the Phantom Fleet on Lake Champlain. You can also read it on SAILING MAGAZINE's website <a href="http://www.sailingmagazine.net/news/features/1224-the-secrets-of-the-phantom-fleet" target="_blank">here</a>.Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-62270689626387936682011-12-02T10:20:00.000-08:002011-12-02T10:24:53.256-08:00The Straw BuyerIn this excerpt from "The Straw Buyer", we meet the main characters, faced with what appears to be a routine investigation...<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">By the time Judy Prior got out of her car, her gun was cutting into her right kidney. It was going to be another hot day and she would certainly have preferred not to have to wear a damned blazer to cover the gun. As she stood, she adjusted her belt to relieve the discomfort and checked that her badge was clipped to her belt. She had never forgotten her badge, but always felt for it to make sure it was still there. She pulled her short blonde hair back and secured it with an elastic band. Judy felt that with her hair pulled back, she looked more like one of the guys she worked with.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">That was not the case. Though not very tall, Judy was perfectly proportioned, a fact not well hidden by her blue blazer. She wore a white blouse that was like a man’s shirt, tucked into khaki pants that weren’t too snug but still curved in all the right places. Even with her hair pulled back in a very short ponytail, Judy was a looker. She had freckles on her nose that made her look very friendly but she had the skills to pull down any man twice her size.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Though the Sarasota Police Headquarters was air conditioned, she removed her blazer as she entered the building. She strode past the duty sergeant at the front desk, giving him a small wave as she breezed by. He looked up from his newspaper and gave her a short salute without uttering a word.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She continued on to the glass door that opened into the Criminal Investigations Division and walked through the department that was already buzzing with activity. She continued on to her desk that was piled with files and notes. She pulled back her chair and looked across at her partner, whose desk faced hers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hey, Alex,” she said, “What’s up today?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Alexis,” he answered, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head as she sat down.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">They went through the same ritual every morning when he would correct her for shortening his name. She would do it every morning then call him Alexis the rest of the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Alexis Kinyara was a Rwandan immigrant who had acted as an interpreter for the UN security forces during the period of genocide in Rwanda, following its independence in 1962. He was allowed into the States in 1996 as a political refugee. Through extremely hard work, he had become a police officer, earned a gold shield and was now an American citizen.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">His ebony colored skin looked highly polished except where he bore three ritual facial scars on each of his cheeks. He smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“You’re late,” he said, leaning his tall frame forward, folding his massive hands together on his desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah, well I gotta drive all the way up from Osprey, ‘cause I can’t afford to live here,” she answered, pushing some of the files aside.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I live here,” he responded, flashing another smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“In a rooming house.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s not a rooming house. I’ve got my own place with a bathroom and a kitchen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“No offense Alexis, but the way I’ve heard you describe it, it sounds like a shoebox. I want to live in a real home and I can’t do that here. The prices have gone crazy and working people can’t afford to live here anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Alexis made a dismissive gesture with one hand and raised his eyebrows. Compared to Rwanda, he was living in luxury.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Judy continued, “We’re the ones that hold this city together. It’s propped up on our backs so people from outside can live here safe and sound. But we can’t afford it ourselves. It’s simply not fair.” She pulled back the papers she had shoved aside out of frustration. She looked down at them without really reading anything and asked Alexis, “So, what have we got on today?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Nothing very exciting,” he replied. “Captain wants us to have a look at some mortgages that have gone bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mortgages? Is that all he can come up with? Isn’t there anything more exciting happening in this town?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“There seems to be some kind of weird financing going on and some of the new condos are having more than their share of foreclosures. The captain wants us to have a talk with one of the banks that has been affected.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-76183618519031822282011-12-02T10:15:00.000-08:002011-12-02T10:15:13.010-08:00Mayor's Cup Race<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepJ2khETTyiZU5gkifASHA8_WZlwgLCV0pTnF3ky8vPTemGGhy0w_9oitnogRvguSG-hOnFj56x5DmdOmvsmVQqw45lfj0N4s-yLky_7LZat3x-ZBCzUOgsaNpm_D7UnfJgfuQkAfgGJ4/s1600/ErnestoSunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepJ2khETTyiZU5gkifASHA8_WZlwgLCV0pTnF3ky8vPTemGGhy0w_9oitnogRvguSG-hOnFj56x5DmdOmvsmVQqw45lfj0N4s-yLky_7LZat3x-ZBCzUOgsaNpm_D7UnfJgfuQkAfgGJ4/s320/ErnestoSunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When not sailing our comfy cruising boat (featured above) on Lake Champlain, I am sometimes asked to help friends' race their faster boats. Here's a short clip from a very windy <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnSiH-mLm4E">Mayor's Cup Race</a> where we placed second in our class.Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-50786014118774969782011-11-22T16:17:00.000-08:002011-11-22T16:17:57.147-08:00Page 1 of "The Straw Buyer"Here is the beginning of a murder mystery that takes place in Sarasota, Florida, in the spring of 2006, when the housing boom began to bust. It took an explosive mixture of greed and corruption to bring our economy to its knees.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic62-VO23jNqvAGu5o0OE_gqHzCtvahV6NHCKJ_U7UXbul-qRXBEP5NiaedJHL4jtBAxp-v3AoRCVfw43c9ZOjvzMXB1MJwElWkXOMicNF1qJKbpQVcnad70MuvRF34Qiv06fw7EGwsDfC/s1600/StrawBuyer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic62-VO23jNqvAGu5o0OE_gqHzCtvahV6NHCKJ_U7UXbul-qRXBEP5NiaedJHL4jtBAxp-v3AoRCVfw43c9ZOjvzMXB1MJwElWkXOMicNF1qJKbpQVcnad70MuvRF34Qiv06fw7EGwsDfC/s320/StrawBuyer.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Here is the beginning; there is much more to come...<br />
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<h3 style="line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; line-height: 32px;">Sarasota, Florida – April, 2006</span></h3><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s simple, really. All you have to do is get the mortgage, I take it over from you and hand you ten grand. Then you walk away with the cash. That’s it. End of story.” Derek Friedman leaned forward with both arms on the table, pushing his Scotch aside.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“If it’s that simple, why don’t you do it yourself?” asked Jeff Ames, as he pulled his beer away defensively.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“’Cause I’m a broker. I need a 100% mortgage on this place and the bank won’t give it to a broker. You act as the buyer, that’s all. I do this all the time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, I dunno,” said Ames, shaking his head slowly, shifting his large frame in the booth and pulling at the visor of his faded red Black & Decker cap with oily looking finger stains on its brim. He picked up his beer and took a sip, staring into the dark eyes of Friedman. He was breathing heavily from the strain of supporting his obese body.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Friedman returned the stare, shifting his look from one eye to the other, like a tiger might assess its prey. “With the way property values are going up, the banks are tripping over themselves to lend people money. You’ve got a job – hell, they’ll beg you to take their money.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“What’s in it for you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll rent the place for enough to cover the mortgage and by this time next year it’ll be worth an extra fifty grand. All the baby boomers want to come down here and retire. There’s a huge market for this kind of property. I’ll sell it and stick forty G’s in my pocket.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Is this legal?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Legal, schmegal. No one really cares.” Friedman raised both hands for emphasis and scowled. “The bank isn’t even on the hook for the money. They sell the damned mortgages to someone else.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Ames thought about the Ram Charger he had seen at Sarasota Motors. That big black beast gave him a hard-on. Ten grand would go a long way towards bringing the price down. Hell, he’d get it with leather seats. He said, “What do I gotta do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s easy. I set everything up, do the paper work, pay for the appraisal, the works. All you do is sign the papers at the bank. When we close the deal, I take over the mortgage and you’re free and clear.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The waitress suddenly appeared at their booth and asked, “You fellows want anything else, something to eat?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Friedman waved her away without breaking eye contact with Ames.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Ames looked up at the waitress, “Yeah, hang on a sec. I’ll have a couple of cheeseburgers and some fries. You got onion rings?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“We got them,” she replied, with an air of masked disdain, as if smelling something bad, she noted the order on her pad.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Get me another beer, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“You, sir?” she looked at Friedman.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“No, no. Go on. We’re talking business here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She turned and walked away. Ames watched her from behind. “Nice ass,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah, well, what do you think about my deal?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Lemme sleep on it, okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Don’t sleep too long. This deal won’t last. This is a really hot property and someone else is going to come along and snatch it up. I’ve been in this business twenty years and deals like this don’t come along every day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-3849859203398739032011-11-22T14:33:00.000-08:002011-11-22T16:07:08.579-08:00Stuffed Pork TenderloinFor something practical, here is a recipe I created that is a favorite when friends come over; <b>Stuffed Pork Tenderloin</b>. There are a few steps involved, but it's easier than it looks.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxT_QSsSVKhkUuUYXfBq8b-Om3FP-vrc4TQBNpOoYtgTc7nI4vHgyCmxmHoizPUImYg-CBQTtPr1LxdHvC1GPjwKdiSs1ZUtrh9IlfdR3REdvBMmwYz7XxISjOpt6mYNeUSHzuiy6tJMGC/s1600/StuffedPork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxT_QSsSVKhkUuUYXfBq8b-Om3FP-vrc4TQBNpOoYtgTc7nI4vHgyCmxmHoizPUImYg-CBQTtPr1LxdHvC1GPjwKdiSs1ZUtrh9IlfdR3REdvBMmwYz7XxISjOpt6mYNeUSHzuiy6tJMGC/s320/StuffedPork.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br />
<div class="p2">For the recipe:</div><div class="p3"><b></b><br />
<a name='more'></a><b>Stuffing:</b></div><div class="p3">1/2 baguette crumbled in a food processor</div><div class="p3">1 tbs savory</div><div class="p3">1/2 a red pepper chopped into small cubes</div><div class="p3">1/2 an onion medium chopped</div><div class="p3">2 cloves of finely chopped garlic</div><div class="p3">1 tbs of olive oil</div><div class="p3">2 pats of melted butter</div><div class="p3">Sea salt and fresh pepper</div><div class="p2"><br />
</div><div class="p3"><b>Tenderloin:</b></div><div class="p3">1 pork tenderloin</div><div class="p3">2 pats of melted butter</div><div class="p3">Herbes de Provence</div><div class="p3">Freshly ground pepper</div><div class="p3">Butchers' string</div><div class="p2"><br />
</div><div class="p3"><b>Sauce:</b></div><div class="p3">The other half onion, finely chopped</div><div class="p3">6 shiitake mushrooms, cubed</div><div class="p3">1 heaping tbs Plain Dijon mustard</div><div class="p3">2 pats of butter</div><div class="p3">Splash of white wine</div><div class="p3">1/2 cup of chicken stock</div><div class="p3">1/2 cup of table cream</div><div class="p2"><br />
</div><div class="p3"><b>Procedure:</b></div><div class="p3">1) Start with the stuffing. Blend your baguette and place the crumbled pieces it in a bowl and mix in the savory. In a pan, brown the onion and red pepper in the olive oil, adding the garlic for the last minute. Turn the heat off and add the butter, just long enough to melt. Mix that in with the crumbled bread, add salt and pepper to taste. Save the pan for the sauce.</div><div class="p3">2) Turn your oven on to 375º, then split the pork tenderloin lengthwise without cutting all the way through. It should be cut only enough to lay it flat. Lay it between two sheets of waxed paper and pound it flat, to about a 1/4" thickness, working your way out from the center. Melt two pats of butter in your still warm pan and brush it on the top surface of the flattened tenderloin. Cover the buttered side with the stuffing, keeping it at least a half inch away from the edges. Pre-cut about five pieces of butchers' string long enough to get around the tenderloin, leaving yourself enough to tie some knots. Slip the string under the tenderloin so that it is evenly spaced. Roll up the tenderloin and tie it neatly, trimming off the excess string. Sprinkle the herbs de Provence over the rolled up tenderloin and grind fresh pepper over the works. Place your creation into a shallow backing dish or pan and put it in the pre-heated oven for a half hour.</div><div class="p3">3) While it's cooking, use your pan to brown the mushrooms and onion in the remaining butter. When they are nearly done, sprinkle on the flour and brown slightly. Splash the hot pan with the white wine and mix quickly. As the wine begins to evaporate, mix in the Dijon mustard, then the stock. Bring it to a boil, mixing constantly, reduce the heat, add the cream and simmer for a couple of minutes.</div><div class="p3">4) Remove the tenderloin from the oven, cut away the string and make sure you hold it together while you cut it into slices with a very sharp knife. Pour the sauce onto the plates, lay the slices of stuffed pork in the sauce and serve it with your favorite vegetables.</div>Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264166347263914237.post-10051663793763957732011-11-22T14:31:00.000-08:002011-11-22T14:31:23.937-08:00Diving in BonaireHere is something to start with. It's a video I shot during a couple of trips to Bonaire, in the Dutch Antilles, with my wife and friends. You will see an incredible variety of fish living together in a constantly flowing environment around the living coral reefs. Just take a deep breath and click here: <a href="http://youtu.be/hsTZaGKtLJk">Dive Bonaire</a>Philip Mongeauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01125527745325820869noreply@blogger.com0