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Pork Chop Suey — A Stew for the Weeks That Hold Everything at Once

The in-laws arrive Friday. I have, according to James's itinerary, nothing to do on my end until Saturday morning when I arrive at Bellevue to start cooking. I have decided, in the name of my own sanity, to not think about the dinner until I arrive. I have been cooking other things all week to avoid pre-cooking the dinner.

I made kimchi this week — another batch of Jisoo's recipe, with which I am slowly getting better. This is batch number eight. I think number ten will be the one where I feel I have it. I am not being precious about it. I am being mathematical. There is a learning curve. I am on it. The curve is steep.

Jisoo wrote a letter this week that I want to capture. She said, "I have been thinking about what it is like to parent a child you did not raise. I did not raise you. But you are coming to me now and I am being given a chance to be your mother in a new way. I do not know how to do it. I am making mistakes. I will make more. Please be patient with me." I wrote back: "I am making mistakes too. I will make more. We are both new at this. We will learn together." She wrote back: "Yes. We will learn together. That is a gift." I'm going to stop reporting every line of our correspondence in this blog, but sometimes a line stops me.

Karen's tremors have been worse this week. She called me on Wednesday frustrated because she had spilled a bowl of soup and splashed broth on her blouse and the washing machine would not come out clean. Karen has always had faith in her washing machine. To have that faith betrayed by Parkinson's felt, I think, like a particular insult. I told her I would come out Thursday and deal with the stain. I did. It came out. She said, "How did you get that out?" I said, "I just used more OxiClean than the bottle recommends." She said, "You're smarter than me." I said, "You taught me about OxiClean, Mom." She said, "I know. But you've surpassed me." We both laughed. We both cried a little. Then we had lunch. Karen ate half a grilled cheese and said, "This is still my favorite lunch." I said, "Mine too, Mom." It was. It is.

Kevin and Lisa are coming for Thanksgiving. I have not met Lisa. I am nervous in a hopeful way. Kevin has been alone or with people who were not good for him for most of the last decade. Lisa, if I trust Kevin's quiet assessments (and I do), is a person who is good for him. Karen has met her on FaceTime. Karen said, "She's lovely. She's good for him." Karen's ability to recognize the people who will be good for her children has been, my whole life, one of her superpowers. She never trusted the girlfriends Kevin had during his using years. She was right about every one of them. Now she likes Lisa. I am taking that as gospel.

I made budae jjigae again on Thursday for David. He said, "I don't know why I like this. It shouldn't work. But it works." I said, "That's the American in you. We like pot stews with Spam." He said, "I am going to pretend that's a joke and not an insult." I said, "Both, Dad. Both." David laughed.

The recipe this week is budae jjigae again. You already know it. I am making it for you — reader, you, whoever you are — because sometimes a stew from the postwar years is the exact dish that holds together an October Thursday.

I told you it was budae jjigae week, and it was—but what I want to leave you with is something adjacent in spirit: a savory, saucy pork stew that asks very little of you and gives back a great deal. Pork chop suey is not budae jjigae, but it lives in the same neighborhood—the neighborhood of meals that shouldn’t work as well as they do, that are built from humble things, that ask you to trust the process. After a week of kimchi batches and stained blouses and letters that stop you mid-breath, I think that’s the right dish. Make it on a Thursday. Make it for someone you love.

Pork Chop Suey

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

Ingredients

  • 1 lb pork loin or pork shoulder, thinly sliced
  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce, divided
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch, divided
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
  • 1 medium onion, sliced into half-moons
  • 2 stalks celery, sliced on the diagonal
  • 1 cup bean sprouts
  • 1 cup napa cabbage, roughly chopped
  • 1/2 cup mushrooms, sliced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • 1 tablespoon oyster sauce
  • 1 teaspoon sesame oil
  • Salt and white pepper to taste
  • Cooked white rice, for serving

Instructions

  1. Marinate the pork. Toss the sliced pork with 1 tablespoon soy sauce and 1/2 tablespoon cornstarch in a bowl. Let it sit for 10 minutes while you prep the vegetables.
  2. Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together the chicken broth, oyster sauce, remaining 1 tablespoon soy sauce, sesame oil, and remaining 1/2 tablespoon cornstarch. Set aside.
  3. Sear the pork. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large wok or skillet over high heat until shimmering. Add the pork in a single layer and cook without stirring for 1—2 minutes until browned. Stir and cook another minute. Transfer to a plate.
  4. Cook the aromatics and vegetables. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the same pan. Add onion and celery and stir-fry for 2 minutes. Add the garlic and ginger and cook 30 seconds until fragrant. Add the mushrooms and cabbage and stir-fry another 2 minutes.
  5. Combine and simmer. Return the pork to the pan. Pour in the sauce and stir everything together. Bring to a simmer and cook for 3—4 minutes, until the sauce thickens and coats everything evenly.
  6. Finish and serve. Stir in the bean sprouts and cook just 1 minute—you want them to stay slightly crisp. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and white pepper. Serve immediately over steamed white rice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 27g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 16g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 780mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 290 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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