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Easy Apricot Pork Chops -- Something Sweet While the Tamale Pork Slow-Cooks

Three weeks to Christmas. The house is decorated. The twins are operating at peak excitement levels, which means they wake up at five-thirty and talk about Santa with the urgency of people managing a crisis. I took them to see the lights on Peacock Drive — a neighborhood that goes full commitment with the decorations — and they stood on the sidewalk with their mouths open for five minutes. That look. That specific look of a child encountering beauty for the first time. I would do anything to keep that look available to them.

Began the tamale preparation this week. It's a multi-week project in our house — Mom's recipe, which she learned from her grandmother, which means it goes back to women I never met. The red chile sauce I make first, letting it simmer and reduce until it's thick and almost glossy. The pork I slow-cook in a separate pot. These two elements will find each other on Christmas Eve, and the result will feed twenty people over three days.

Diego has been in the kitchen more. He's started asking why for everything — why soak the dried chiles first, why the masa needs lard and not just butter, why the corn husks have to be wet. I try to answer each question seriously because the questions deserve seriousness. He's twelve and he's learning something real, even if he doesn't know yet that he's learning it.

Called Hector on Sunday. He sounds better than he did at Thanksgiving — less tired, more like himself. He said Mom has him eating more vegetables and less red meat and he's not happy about it but admits he feels better. I told him I'd make him carne asada in January no matter what Mom says. He laughed the way Ruben used to laugh. Sometimes that happens and I have to stop for a second.

The tamale pork takes days — it earns its place on the Christmas Eve table through patience and time. But Diego still needs to eat on a Wednesday, and Hector’s comment about eating better has been sitting with me, so I’ve been looking for pork dishes that feel generous without being heavy. These apricot pork chops have become the answer: quick enough for a school night, sweet in a way that feels festive, and simple enough that a twelve-year-old asking why about everything can follow along and start to see that good cooking doesn’t always require a multi-week project.

Easy Apricot Pork Chops

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 4 bone-in pork chops, about 3/4 inch thick
  • 1/2 cup apricot preserves
  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

  1. Season the chops. Pat the pork chops dry with paper towels and season both sides generously with salt and black pepper.
  2. Make the glaze. In a small bowl, whisk together the apricot preserves, soy sauce, Dijon mustard, and minced garlic until smooth. Set aside.
  3. Sear the pork. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the pork chops and sear without moving them for 3 to 4 minutes per side, until a deep golden crust forms on each surface.
  4. Add the glaze. Reduce heat to medium-low. Pour the apricot glaze evenly over the chops. Spoon the sauce back over the top as it begins to bubble and reduce, about 5 to 7 minutes, until the pork is cooked through and registers an internal temperature of 145°F.
  5. Rest and serve. Transfer chops to a plate and let rest 3 minutes. Spoon any remaining pan sauce over the top and garnish with fresh parsley if desired. Serve with rice, roasted vegetables, or warm bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 315 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 23g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 490mg

Carlos Medina
About the cook who shared this
Carlos Medina
Week 141 of Carlos’s 30-year story · Denver, Colorado
Carlos is a high school football coach and married father of four in Denver whose family has been in New Mexico since before the Mayflower landed. He grew up on his grandmother's green chile — roasted over an open flame, the smell thick enough to stop traffic — and he puts it on everything. Eggs, burgers, pizza, ice cream once on a dare. His cooking is hearty, New Mexican, and built to feed a team. Literally.

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