It has long been held that aroma is one of the most powerful triggers of memory. This fact seems especially salient in October, recalled every time I catch a whiff of cinnamon. Sharp blue skies, sweaters unearthed from storage, the return of thick soups and roasts and quick breads on cool, oven-friendly afternoons make this my favorite month. Cinnamon invokes the memory of a breezy apple orchard scattered with brilliant fallen leaves in the fading autumn light, a golden afternoon forever linked to the golden spice.
Cinnamon has been prized since antiquity. Pliny the Elder recorded in the first century AD that cinnamon was worth fifteen times the value of silver by weight. The Eastern traders who first brought cinnamon to the West closely guarded its true origin. By shrouding it in mystery and myth, they ensured their monopoly on the spice, as well as its mystique. Herodotus told of the fiery phoenix that made her nest from cinnamon sticks. Harvesters tried to offer the bird large gifts which they hoped, when brought back to the nest, would cause the nest to collapse, thus permitting them to gather the golden sticks.
In truth, cinnamon isn’t really a stick—it’s bark. The first cinnamon, or “true cinnamon,” came from the inner skin of an evergreen tree native to Sri Lanka (once known as Ceylon). Now referred to as Ceylon cinnamon, it is still highly prized throughout the world. More common in the U.S. is cassia cinnamon, native to Southeast Asia. Whereas Ceylon tends to be a complex, less sweet cinnamon with notes of citrus, cassia carries the smooth and spicy-sweet flavors Americans are used to. A tree cannot be harvested for cinnamon until it’s around thirty years old. From the topmost branches, harvesters carefully cut the inner bark, which naturally curls into quills, or sticks. The bark destined to be ground into powder is cut in larger pieces from the lower, older parts of the tree, where the flavor is stronger.
For many, the aroma of cinnamon is inexorably tied to sweets and treats: from cinnamon rolls and sticky buns to an apple brown Betty. One of my earliest memories is of waking up to a heaping mound of monkey bread, the pull-apart castle of dough balls drenched in a cinnamon glaze. From apple pancakes to pumpkin cupcakes to chocolate-chip cookies, there’s almost nothing I’ll bake this month that won’t contain some measure of cinnamon.
But as the rest of the world knows, the golden spice has a life outside the bakery case as a key ingredient in savory dishes. Middle Eastern and North African cooks use it to flavor tagines, even lamb-filled pastries, and pilafs. It is featured in Indian spice blends such as curry and garam masala. The woody, earthy flavor of the spice makes it a natural for long, slow-cooked meats, like short-ribs braised in cinnamon and Guinness. When I slip it into chili, people are surprised, and sometimes maybe even a bit proud when they identify—and enjoy—that additional depth.
Pork Tenderloin with Cinnamon and Apples
Serves 4
2 lb. pork tenderloin
4 Tbsp. soy sauce
2 Tbsp. cinnamon
2 Tbsp. brown sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
2 Tbsp. mirin rice wine
1 tsp. powdered ginger
2 tsp. Dijon mustard
2 tsp. lemon juice
4 Tbsp. butter
4 peeled , chopped green apples
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. cayenne
1 tsp. powdered ginger
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Place pork in baking dish. In a bowl, add soy sauce, cinnamon, sugar, salt, mirin, ginger, mustard, and lemon and mix well. Pour over pork and chill for at least one hour, turning once to recoat. Bake until pork’s inner temperature reaches 155 degrees. Take out and let rest for five minutes.
For apples: Melt butter in medium sauté pan over medium-high heat, add apples and spices. Toss to coat and sauté until apples are just beginning to soften. Remove from heat and serve over the pork.
