Parmesan Crusted Pork Chops

New Year's 2040. Twenty-three years sober. Fifty-nine years old — I turn sixty in six weeks, which is a threshold number that carries a specific kind of gravity. I've been thinking about it the way you think about a road sign you can see from a long way off. You know it's coming. The distance closes. And then you pass it and you're on the other side and the road continues.

I've been thinking about what sixty means in the frame of who I've been and what I've done. It means I've been coaching longer than most of my players' lifetimes. It means I've been sober for roughly forty percent of my entire life. It means I've had more good years than bad. It means my children are doing real things in the world and my granddaughter knows how to spread masa onto a corn husk. It means my parents are alive, which I hold onto with both hands every morning.

Papá called at midnight. He's turning eighty this year — February, same month as me. He said: veintitres. I said: veintitres, Papá. He said he's been doing something new: he writes one thing he's grateful for into a notebook each morning before coffee. He said he's been doing it for three months and he's running out of new things, which means he has to go deeper, and the deeper things turn out to be the best ones. I said: what's the deepest one so far? He said, without pausing: that your mother said yes when I asked her. I said: that's a good one, Papá. He said: yes. It's the best one. Put it at the top of your list if you're keeping one. I said: I'll start tonight.

After I hung up with Papá, I stood in the kitchen for a long time. I wasn’t hungry exactly — it was past midnight — but I needed to do something with my hands, the way I’ve needed that for twenty-three years. I started a notebook entry at the kitchen counter and I wrote the first thing: that your mother said yes when I asked her, borrowed straight from him because he earned it and I wanted it at the top of my page too. Then I put on the cast iron and made these pork chops, crispy and slow and Parmesan-crusted, because pork on New Year’s is what we do, and because cooking is still the clearest way I know to say: I’m here, I’m grateful, and the road continues.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 bone-in pork chops (about 3/4 inch thick)
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup Italian-seasoned breadcrumbs
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 large eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons olive oil
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Prep the coating. In a shallow bowl, combine the Parmesan, breadcrumbs, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Stir to mix evenly.
Coat the chops. Pat the pork chops dry with paper towels. Dip each chop in the beaten egg, letting excess drip off, then press firmly into the Parmesan breadcrumb mixture on both sides until well coated.
Heat the pan. Warm the olive oil in a large cast-iron or heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat until the oil shimmers but does not smoke.
Sear the first side. Place the coated pork chops in the skillet in a single layer without crowding. Cook undisturbed for 5—6 minutes until the crust is deeply golden and releases cleanly from the pan.
Finish the second side. Flip each chop carefully and reduce heat to medium. Cook another 5—6 minutes until the internal temperature reaches 145°F (63°C) on an instant-read thermometer.
Rest before serving. Transfer the chops to a plate and tent loosely with foil. Let rest 5 minutes so the juices redistribute. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Parmesan Crusted Pork Chops — The Deepest Thing on the List