Peppered Pork Pitas

There is a photograph above my stove. I will mention this many times. It does not get less true. The week was a spring week, the kind where the light through the kitchen window arrives at a particular angle and the freezer hums in a different register depending on the temperature in the garage. I made notes in my prep notebook on Sunday afternoon, the way I always do: meal name, ingredient list, cost per serving, prep time, freezer instructions. Twenty-eight bags. Two hours and eleven minutes. A little slow this week, by my standards, but Brandon was helping and the conversation was good, and I have learned, slowly and against my own grain, that the conversation is sometimes the point and the time is sometimes a courtesy I extend to my husband for being willing to chop onions on a Sunday afternoon.

The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan is 21, finishing his mission in the Philippines. We have a countdown calendar on the fridge — Olivia's idea, executed in her handwriting, which is mine. Olivia is 19, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 17, is in Brazil on his mission. His weekly emails are short and full of jokes. He does not write much about the work. He writes about the food. Lily is 15, in high school, asking the kind of questions in Sunday School that make the teachers uncomfortable, which I find difficult and also, secretly, admirable. Noah is 12, in high school, deeply involved in the drama program — the Larson kid most likely to make a career out of being looked at. That is the family report. I do not have a system for these reports. I just listen and remember and call back when I said I would call back, which is most of the time and not all of the time, and the difference between most and all is the territory of motherhood.

I do not preach in this blog. I never have. My faith is in here the way air is in a room — invisible, essential, not discussed. I am still a Latter-day Saint. I am also a woman who has sat in front of a casket the size of a bread box. I do not see those two things as contradictions, but I do not pretend they sit easily together either. The bench in the chapel where I sit on Sunday is the same bench. The woman is not. The faith makes room for the woman. That is what I have learned to ask of it.

The recipe of the week was honey-mustard pork, which I have made some specific number of times in my life and have refined to a system that I now hand to other people in printed form. The version I made this week fed eight, cost under fifteen dollars, and required twenty-six minutes of active prep, which is within my requirements and not a coincidence. I taught a freezer meal class this week and someone cried at the cost-per-serving column on the handout. I took the cry as a compliment. I have stopped explaining the freezer-meal philosophy to people who already follow my work, and I have stopped apologizing for it to people who do not. The philosophy is simple: tomorrow is coming whether you are ready or not. You can either be ready or not. I pick ready.

The week ends the way most of them do — with a labeled bag, a tomorrow, a kitchen light I leave on for no one in particular, and a quiet that holds.

The honey-mustard pork I wrote about this week is in the rotation, but the recipe I keep handing to people at classes — the one that earns the same look of quiet relief that made someone cry at the cost-per-serving column — is this one. Peppered Pork Pitas come together with the same logic: a marinade you can make on Sunday, a protein that holds beautifully in the freezer, and a dinner that costs less than the exhaustion of not having planned. Brandon will chop the onions. You will write the label. Tomorrow will be handled.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 32 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 lbs pork tenderloin, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon coarse black pepper
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
8 whole wheat pita rounds
1 cup plain Greek yogurt
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon dried dill
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1 cup cucumber, thinly sliced
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
2 cups romaine lettuce, shredded

Instructions

Make the marinade. In a large bowl or zip-top freezer bag, whisk together olive oil, red wine vinegar, black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, salt, and red pepper flakes until combined.
Marinate the pork. Add sliced pork tenderloin to the marinade and toss to coat thoroughly. Seal and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or freeze flat for up to 3 months. Thaw overnight in the refrigerator before cooking.
Make the yogurt sauce. Stir together Greek yogurt, lemon juice, and dried dill in a small bowl. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.
Cook the pork. Heat a large skillet or grill pan over medium-high heat. Cook the marinated pork slices in a single layer, 3—4 minutes per side, until cooked through and edges are slightly charred. Work in batches to avoid crowding.
Warm the pitas. Wrap pita rounds in a damp paper towel and microwave for 30 seconds, or warm directly on a dry skillet for 1 minute per side.
Assemble. Spread a generous spoonful of yogurt sauce inside each pita. Layer with shredded romaine, cucumber, cherry tomatoes, red onion, and a portion of the cooked peppered pork.
Serve. Serve immediately, or wrap tightly in foil for a grab-and-go meal. Cooked pork keeps refrigerated for up to 4 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Peppered Pork Pitas — The Recipe That Feeds Eight and Asks Nothing Extra of You