Milk Braised Pulled Pork with Mushrooms

May is here. My favorite month. The month where Nebraska finally commits to being warm, where the green comes in strong and full and the fields are planted and the air smells like cut grass and growing things and the particular sweetness of a state that has earned its spring through the hardest winter it could throw at you.

I have been thinking about Larry. He came by last weekend, unannounced, the way he always comes, and he sat at the kitchen table and drank coffee and looked tired. Not truck-tired. A different tired. A deeper tired, like something inside him was winding down, and I saw it in his face and his hands and the way he held his cup, both hands wrapped around it as if the warmth of the coffee was the only warmth he could find. He is sixty-five this year. He has been driving for forty-two years. The road has taken its toll, the way it takes its toll on all of us, but Larry toll looks higher than mine, and the difference frightens me.

I made him dinner. Pot roast, because pot roast is what I make for people I love when I am worried about them and cannot say so. He ate one plate, which is less than usual, and he said it was good, and he left at seven and drove home, and I watched his truck pull away and thought: call me when you get home. He did not call. He never calls when he gets home. The not-calling is the most Larry thing about Larry, and it drives me crazy, and I love him, and the driving crazy and the loving are the same feeling, sometimes.

The garden is growing. The tomatoes have their first flowers. The cucumbers are vining up the trellis Tyler built. The basil is fragrant and green. Josie harvested the first lettuce of the season and carried it inside with ceremony, and we ate it at dinner in a salad with my homemade ranch, and the lettuce tasted like last year and like this year and like every year to come, and the garden is a promise that keeps itself, and I need promises that keep themselves right now.

Spring. The month of growth. The month of light. The month where everything that survived the winter gets to show that it is still alive. I am still alive. The garden is still alive. Larry is still alive. We are all still alive, and that is not nothing. That is everything.

The pot roast I made Larry that night was good, but if I’m honest, the next time he comes by unannounced — and he will, because that is the most Larry thing about Larry — I think I’ll make him this milk-braised pulled pork instead. It’s the same kind of cooking, the slow kind, the kind where you put love into a heavy pot and let time do the talking. The milk makes the meat impossibly tender, the mushrooms give it an earthiness that feels right for a Nebraska kitchen in May, and it’s the sort of meal that sits on the table and says what I cannot seem to say out loud: stay a little longer this time.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 3 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 3 hours 50 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 to 4 pounds boneless pork shoulder, trimmed and patted dry
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
8 ounces cremini mushrooms, sliced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, finely chopped
3 cups whole milk
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 bay leaves
1 tablespoon butter
Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving

Instructions

Season the pork. Pat the pork shoulder dry with paper towels and season generously on all sides with salt and pepper. Let it sit at room temperature for 20 minutes.
Sear the meat. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sear the pork on all sides until deep golden brown, about 3 to 4 minutes per side. Remove and set aside on a plate.
Cook the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add the butter, onion, and mushrooms to the pot. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is softened and the mushrooms have released their liquid, about 6 to 8 minutes. Add the garlic, thyme, and rosemary and cook for 1 minute more.
Braise in milk. Stir in the Dijon mustard, then pour in the milk and chicken broth. Add the bay leaves. Return the pork to the pot. The liquid should come about two-thirds of the way up the meat. Bring to a gentle simmer.
Slow cook. Cover the Dutch oven and transfer to a preheated 300°F oven. Braise for 3 to 3-1/2 hours, turning the pork once halfway through, until the meat is fork-tender and pulls apart easily.
Pull and finish. Remove the pork from the pot and shred with two forks. Discard the bay leaves. Skim any excess fat from the braising liquid. The milk will have reduced into a rich, golden sauce with curds — this is expected and delicious. Return the shredded pork to the pot and toss gently in the sauce.
Serve. Spoon the pulled pork and mushrooms over mashed potatoes, egg noodles, or crusty bread. Garnish with fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Milk Braised Pulled Pork with Mushrooms — The Dinner You Make When Words Won’t Come