Deconstructed Pear Pork Chops

Late spring in Memphis, the world green and warm and full of the particular energy that comes when the threat of cold is finally, completely gone. I am 61 and the days are long and the evenings are warm and the smoker calls to me from the backyard the way it has called for forty-five years, and I answer, because that is what you do when something you love calls.

The week\'s main current was second week retired. The family moved through the week the way we move through all weeks — together even when apart, connected by phone calls and text messages and the invisible threads that bind a family across distance and time. Rosetta held the center, as she always does, the organizing principle of the Johnson household, the woman who knows where everyone is and what everyone needs before they know it themselves.

I smoked a pork shoulder this week — the king, the classic, the dish that defines my cooking and my life. Fourteen to sixteen hours over hickory, mopped with the vinegar sauce every ninety minutes, pulled by hand when the internal temperature hits 203 and the meat jiggles with the telltale wobble that means the collagen has surrendered. I pulled it in the backyard, standing over the cutting board, and the meat came apart in my fingers the way it has come apart a thousand times before, and the thousandth time felt exactly like the first time: miraculous. Served it on white bread with coleslaw and the vinegar sauce, the Memphis way, the Clyde way, the only way.

Sunday at Mt. Zion, the choir sang and I added my bass to the foundation, and the sound rose through the sanctuary the way smoke rises through the air — upward, always upward, seeking something higher than itself. After church, I drove to Whitehaven or I called Mama or I sat in the backyard and thought about the things I always think about: family, fire, food, and the faith that holds them all together. The week was done. The next one was coming. And I would show up for it, as I show up for everything, because showing up is the only skill I have that never fails.

The shoulder gets its sixteen hours and all my devotion, and that will never change — but retirement has handed me something I never expected: Tuesday afternoons with nowhere to be and a kitchen that’s asking to be used. So this week, after the smoke cleared and the pulled pork was long gone, I turned to something a little different. These Deconstructed Pear Pork Chops caught my eye because pork is pork and I trust pork, and because Rosetta has been after me to do something with the pears sitting on the counter before they go soft. Consider this my first retirement experiment — same fire in the bones, different pan on the stove.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 bone-in pork chops (about 3/4 inch thick)
2 ripe pears, peeled, cored, and sliced
1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme)
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Season the chops. Pat pork chops dry with paper towels. Season both sides generously with salt, black pepper, and smoked paprika.
Sear the pork. Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add pork chops and sear 3—4 minutes per side until a golden crust forms. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Cook the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add remaining olive oil and butter to the skillet. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5—6 minutes until softened and lightly golden. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more.
Add the pears. Add sliced pears to the skillet with the onion mixture. Cook 3—4 minutes, turning gently, until pears are just tender and beginning to caramelize at the edges.
Build the sauce. Pour in chicken broth and apple cider vinegar. Stir in brown sugar and thyme. Scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Let the sauce simmer 2—3 minutes until slightly reduced.
Finish the chops. Return the seared pork chops to the skillet, nestling them into the pear and onion mixture. Spoon the sauce over the top. Cover and cook on medium-low for 6—8 minutes, or until the internal temperature of the pork reaches 145°F.
Rest and serve. Remove from heat and let rest 3 minutes. Plate each chop topped with the pear and onion mixture and a generous spoonful of pan sauce. Garnish with fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Deconstructed Pear Pork Chops — When Retirement Gives You Time to Try Something New