Braised Pork with Tomatillos

Father's Day. Two years since the first Father's Day after Marcus died, and this one lands differently—not lighter, but more integrated, the way a scar settles into skin after enough time that you stop seeing it as a wound and start seeing it as part of the landscape. Calvin is fifty-two years old and has been a father for twenty-five years and a widowed father for fifteen months and he carries both versions simultaneously, the before and the after, and he does it with a grace that I find astonishing and typical of him in equal measure.

CJ called at eight AM. Destiny called at eight-fifteen. They still don't coordinate—I think they never will, it's just not how either of them operates—and both calls were warm and long and full of the small details of their lives that tell me more about who they are becoming than any big announcement would. CJ talked about a hiking trail in Huntsville he'd found, which is very unlike CJ who does not hike, and I think a woman might be involved but I did not push because pushing is not my way. Destiny talked about a case she was proud of—details vague, she doesn't share identifying information—a family she had helped stabilize. She glowed through the phone. That glow. That's her calling and she knows it and that knowing is the thing.

I made Calvin his favorite Father's Day food: smothered pork chops over rice, with the gravy dark and glossy, the kind that requires patience and a certain faith that the browned bits on the bottom of the pan will become something better than they look, which they always do if you give them the liquid and the time. Calvin ate his smothered pork chops at the kitchen table with his Sunday paper—the Birmingham News, which he still gets in print, because Calvin and print journalism are in a committed relationship that will end only when one of them does—and he was content in the deep way that comes from a Sunday afternoon in June with food you love cooked by the person you love. That is the full measure of Father's Day. That is the whole gift.

The smothered chops were Calvin’s, and I’ll keep that recipe close — but the technique that holds my heart this time of year is any pork that asks you to trust the process: brown it, add your liquid, and let patience do the rest. This braised pork with tomatillos carries that same spirit — the tomatillos break down into a bright, tangy sauce the way the browned bits in my skillet always become something you couldn’t have imagined at the start. If Father’s Day taught me anything this year, it’s that the good things require a little faith and a little time, and so does this dish.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 50 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 1/2 lbs boneless pork shoulder, cut into 2-inch chunks
1 1/2 lbs fresh tomatillos, husks removed, rinsed, and quartered
1 medium white onion, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, smashed
2 jalapeño peppers, stems removed, roughly chopped (seed for less heat)
1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves and tender stems, plus more for serving
1 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons neutral oil (such as canola or avocado oil)
Cooked white rice, for serving
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Season the pork. Pat the pork chunks dry with paper towels. Season all over with 1 teaspoon kosher salt and the black pepper.
Sear for the fond. Heat the oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat until shimmering. Working in two batches to avoid crowding, sear the pork on all sides until deep golden brown, about 3–4 minutes per side. Transfer seared pork to a plate and set aside. Do not discard the browned bits left in the pot — they are the foundation of your sauce.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally and scraping up any browned bits from the bottom, until softened and lightly golden, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and jalapeños and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
Add tomatillos and broth. Stir in the quartered tomatillos, chicken broth, cumin, oregano, and remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil, scraping the bottom of the pot thoroughly to release all the fond.
Braise low and slow. Return the seared pork and any accumulated juices to the pot. The liquid should come about halfway up the pork; add a splash more broth if needed. Reduce heat to low, cover, and braise for 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes, until the pork is fork-tender and the tomatillos have completely broken down into the sauce.
Finish and adjust. Stir in the cilantro. Use two forks to gently pull the pork into large shreds or leave the chunks whole, depending on your preference. Taste the sauce and adjust salt as needed. If the sauce is thinner than you’d like, simmer uncovered for 5–10 minutes to reduce.
Serve. Spoon the braised pork and tomatillo sauce generously over cooked white rice. Garnish with fresh cilantro and serve with lime wedges on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Braised Pork with Tomatillos — The Patient Kind of Love That Turns Into Something Beautiful