By March 2024. Spring in Memphis, and I am 65, watching the azaleas and dogwoods bloom along my neighborhood walk, the annual resurrection that makes the winter worth surviving. The smoker wakes up in spring the way the whole city wakes up — slowly, with a stretch, then fully, with purpose.
Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 40 years of marriage. Mama's absence still a presence in the kitchen — her recipes on the counter, her cast iron skillet on the stove, her voice in my head saying "more cinnamon" and "don't overwork the dough".
I experimented this week — smoked pork belly burnt ends, cubed and re-smoked with sauce and butter until they were sticky, caramelized, and indecent. The kind of food that makes Rosetta say "Earl, your arteries" and then eat three more pieces, because even nurses have limits, and the limit of smoked pork belly burnt ends has not yet been found by human science.
I sat in the lawn chair next to Uncle Clyde's smoker as the dark came on, and I thought about what I always think about: the chain. From Clyde to me. From me to Trey, maybe, or Jerome, or whoever comes next with the patience and the hands and the willingness to stand next to a fire at three in the morning and wait for something good to happen. The chain doesn't break. The fire doesn't stop. And I am here, 65 years old, in a lawn chair in Orange Mound, Memphis, Tennessee, watching the smoke rise, and the rising is the living, and the living is the gift.
Those smoked pork belly burnt ends needed a finish — something sticky, bold, and just a little indecent, the way Mama always believed good food should be. When I started thinking about what sauce deserved to go over something that beautiful, the answer was obvious: bourbon, orange, and cranberry, three flavors that belong in Memphis the same way the smoke does. The bourbon is for Clyde. The orange is for the neighborhood. And the sweetness is for Rosetta, who earned it.
Orange Bourbon Cranberry Sauce
Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 12 oz fresh or frozen cranberries
- 1/2 cup fresh orange juice (about 2 oranges)
- 1 tablespoon orange zest
- 1/3 cup bourbon
- 3/4 cup granulated sugar
- 1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
- 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
- Pinch of kosher salt
Instructions
- Combine the base. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, stir together the orange juice, bourbon, granulated sugar, and brown sugar until the sugars begin to dissolve, about 2 minutes.
- Add the cranberries. Add the fresh or frozen cranberries to the saucepan and stir to coat. Bring the mixture to a gentle boil.
- Simmer and reduce. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered for 12–15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the cranberries have burst and the sauce thickens to a glossy, jammy consistency.
- Season and finish. Stir in the orange zest, cinnamon, cloves, and a pinch of salt. Taste and adjust sweetness as needed. Remove from heat.
- Cool and serve. Allow the sauce to cool for at least 10 minutes before serving. It will thicken further as it cools. Serve warm as a glaze over smoked or pulled pork, or at room temperature alongside your spread.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 145 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 20mg