Crispy Pork Tenderloin Sandwiches

The first Cherokee Purple of the season came early this year. May, not June. The Savannah heat came early and the tomatoes responded the way they always respond to heat: by ripening with the urgency of a fruit that has been waiting all spring for permission to exist. The tomato was heavy in my hand, that purple-red glow, warm from the vine, smelling like summer before summer has officially arrived.

Tomato sandwich. The ritual. White bread, Duke's mayonnaise, salt, pepper. The diabetes is noted and overruled. The first tomato sandwich of the season is sacred. The sacred overrules the medical. I have said this before. I will say it every year until I cannot say it anymore, and then someone else will say it, because the tomato sandwich is the creed and the creed doesn't die.

I gave Michael a slice. Not on a sandwich — just a slice of Cherokee Purple, cut thin, placed on his tray. He picked it up. He bit into it. Juice everywhere — on his face, on the tray, on the Chef Michael apron which he now wears at every meal because it is his identity and his identity is food. He said, "Ma-moe." Tomato. "Ma-moe." His word for the thing that started in the dirt and ended on his tongue and that connects him to the garden and the vine and the grandmother and the great-great-grandmother and the earth itself. "Ma-moe." Close enough. The tomato knows its name.

Pearl watched. Pearl always watches. She is six months old and she watches Michael eat the tomato with the attention of someone who is taking notes for later. Her time is coming. Her first tomato is months away. But she is watching, and the watching is the learning, and the learning started the day she was born and will not stop until the day she stops, and that day is very far away, and between now and then is every tomato she will ever eat.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The Cherokee Purple needs no recipe. It needs white bread, Duke’s, salt, pepper, and the good sense to eat it standing over the sink so the juice goes nowhere it can do any damage. That sandwich is finished before I can even think about writing it down. But Michael ate his slice and Pearl watched and the afternoon kept going, and the afternoon meant more mouths and more trays and more people to feed — and that is where this crispy pork tenderloin sandwich earns its place at the table. Same white bread. Same hands. Same creed.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 pork tenderloin (about 1 lb), trimmed
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs, beaten
1 1/2 cups seasoned breadcrumbs or panko
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Vegetable oil, for frying (about 1/2 cup)
4 soft white sandwich buns or slices of white bread
Duke’s mayonnaise, mustard, pickles, and sliced tomato for serving

Instructions

Slice and pound the pork. Cut the tenderloin crosswise into 4 equal medallions. Place each between two sheets of plastic wrap and pound with a meat mallet until about 1/4 inch thick — thin enough to get good coverage and cook fast.
Set up your dredging station. Put flour in one shallow dish, beaten eggs in a second, and breadcrumbs mixed with garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, salt, and pepper in a third. Line them up in order.
Bread the cutlets. Dredge each pork cutlet in flour first, shaking off any excess. Dip into the egg, letting the extra drip off. Press firmly into the seasoned breadcrumbs on both sides until fully coated.
Fry until golden. Heat vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Fry the breaded cutlets in batches, 3–4 minutes per side, until deep golden brown and cooked through (internal temp 145°F). Don’t crowd the pan — they need room to crisp.
Drain and rest. Transfer to a wire rack or paper-towel-lined plate. Let rest 2 minutes so the crust sets and stays on the sandwich where it belongs.
Build the sandwich. Spread Duke’s generously on both sides of the bun or bread. Layer the crispy cutlet, a few pickle slices, mustard if you like it, and — if the Cherokee Purple has anything to say about it — a thin slice of the best tomato in the yard.

Nutrition (per serving)

Crispy Pork Tenderloin Sandwiches — When the Tomato Sandwich Is Sacred and the Rest of the Table Still Needs Feeding