PB&J Pork Sandwiches

Week two. I'm not going to write about the absence every week. I'm not going to make this blog a diary of a father waiting for a phone call. That would be selfish and boring and would violate the fundamental contract of this blog, which is: food first, feelings second, and the feelings should be embedded in the food like a stone in a biscuit — unexpected, structural, and best not to bite down on directly.

So: food. This week I made something I've been thinking about for a while: smoked bologna. Yes. Bologna. The lunch meat that children eat and adults pretend they've outgrown. Smoked bologna is an Appalachian tradition that Betty would have recognized, because in Harlan County, a roll of bologna was a staple — cheap, portable, durable. Miners took bologna sandwiches to work. Kids ate bologna at school. And on weekends, somebody would put a whole roll of bologna on the grill or in the smoker and it would transform from something pedestrian into something genuinely delicious.

Take a two-pound roll of bologna — the thick kind, not the sliced deli stuff. Score the outside in a diamond pattern, about a quarter inch deep. Rub with a mixture of brown sugar, paprika, garlic powder, and black pepper. Smoke at 250 degrees for two to three hours until the outside is dark and caramelized and the scores have opened up into valleys of smoke and spice. Slice thick — half-inch slices minimum. Serve on white bread with mustard and a slice of onion, or eat it plain from the cutting board.

It sounds humble. It is humble. That's the point. Smoked bologna is the food of people who took what was cheap and made it good through fire and patience and the refusal to accept that cheap means bad. Betty understood this. Every recipe in her repertoire was born from the transformation of something humble into something remarkable. Pinto beans into soup beans. Cornmeal into cornbread. Flour and lard into biscuits. Bologna into barbecue. The raw material doesn't determine the outcome. The cook determines the outcome.

I ate smoked bologna sandwiches on the back porch on Saturday and it tasted like July in Evarts, like being twelve, like a world where the worst thing that could happen was running out of mustard. I ate three sandwiches. Connie ate one and said "This is better than it has any right to be." She's right. Most things are better than they have a right to be if you give them enough smoke and enough time.

Connie’s verdict on the smoked bologna — “better than it has any right to be” — is the highest compliment I know how to receive in a kitchen, and it sent me looking for other recipes that earn that exact same praise. PB&J Pork Sandwiches sound like a dare and taste like a revelation: pork that’s been coaxed low and slow, finished with the kind of sweet-and-savory combination that Betty would have understood instinctively, because she never once believed that a cheap ingredient was a lesser ingredient. If smoked bologna taught me anything this week, it’s that the pantry staples you grew up dismissing are usually just waiting for someone to take them seriously.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless pork loin, thinly sliced or pounded to 1/4-inch thickness
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/3 cup creamy peanut butter
3 tablespoons grape or strawberry jam
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
4 sandwich rolls or sturdy hamburger buns, toasted
1/2 cup thinly sliced red onion
1 cup coleslaw mix or shredded cabbage

Instructions

Season the pork. Pat the pork slices dry with paper towels. Combine garlic powder, smoked paprika, black pepper, and salt in a small bowl, then rub the mixture evenly over both sides of each pork slice.
Make the PB&J sauce. In a small saucepan over low heat, whisk together the peanut butter, jam, soy sauce, apple cider vinegar, and red pepper flakes if using. Stir constantly until the sauce is smooth and just warmed through, about 3—4 minutes. Remove from heat and set aside.
Cook the pork. Heat vegetable oil in a large skillet or cast-iron pan over medium-high heat. Add the seasoned pork slices in a single layer, working in batches if needed. Cook 3—4 minutes per side until the pork is cooked through and lightly browned. Let rest for 5 minutes, then slice into strips.
Build the sandwiches. Spread a generous spoonful of the warm PB&J sauce on the bottom half of each toasted roll. Layer with pork strips, sliced red onion, and a small handful of coleslaw mix. Spoon additional sauce over the top if desired, then close with the top bun.
Serve immediately. These are best eaten warm, straight from the pan. Extra sauce keeps in the refrigerator for up to a week and doubles as a dipping sauce for leftovers.

Nutrition (per serving)

PB&J Pork Sandwiches — Because Humble Ingredients Always Deserve a Second Look