Pork Chops & Acorn Squash

Atlanta fall — the first crisp morning, finally. Set the Table at New Birth Saturday morning. Six girls. We did baked chicken.

Daddy in his apartment in the back. I brought him his coffee and his medication this morning. He grumbled. The grumble was the love. Marcus, 20, studying for finals at Alabama.

Smothered pork chops Sunday. Bone-in. Onion gravy. Over rice. Brenda's recipe and Mama would approve.

Jasmine, 18, home from Howard for the weekend. Isaiah, 17, shot baskets in the driveway after school.

I called Mama at the stove without realizing I was doing it. Some habits are the love.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.

Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.

Derek and I had date night Friday. Same restaurant, same booth, same enchiladas for me and carne asada for him.

Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

Sunday service at New Birth this morning. The choir sang. I sang soprano in the second alto row. Pastor preached about Naomi and Ruth. The congregation said amen. I said amen.

Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

I had a hard counseling case at school this week. A seventh-grade girl whose mama lost her job. We talked. I gave her my number. I told her she could call.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

When I wrote about those smothered pork chops on Sunday — bone-in, onion gravy, over rice — I was writing about Brenda without saying her name. I’m still working on that cookbook, still can’t get through the introduction without crying, but what I can do is cook. These pork chops with acorn squash are the fall version of that same Sunday feeling: rich, slow, grounding — the kind of plate that makes a kitchen smell like someone who loves you is home.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 bone-in pork chops (about 3/4 inch thick)
1 medium acorn squash, halved, seeded, and cut into 1-inch wedges
1 large yellow onion, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
Fresh thyme for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Season the pork chops. Pat pork chops dry with paper towels. In a small bowl, combine paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, black pepper, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Rub the seasoning mixture evenly over both sides of each chop.
Sear the chops. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large, deep skillet or cast-iron pan over medium-high heat. Sear pork chops for 3–4 minutes per side until a deep golden-brown crust forms. Remove from pan and set aside — they will finish cooking in the gravy.
Roast the acorn squash. While the chops sear, toss squash wedges with remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt. Arrange on a baking sheet and roast at 400°F for 20–25 minutes, flipping once, until tender and caramelized at the edges.
Build the onion gravy. Reduce skillet heat to medium. Add butter and sliced onions to the same pan. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 8–10 minutes until onions are soft and golden. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more. Sprinkle flour over the onions and stir to coat, cooking for 1 minute.
Simmer the chops. Pour in chicken broth, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Stir until the gravy begins to thicken slightly, about 2 minutes. Nestle the seared pork chops back into the pan. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer for 15–18 minutes until pork is cooked through (internal temperature 145°F).
Bring it together. Arrange roasted acorn squash wedges around the chops in the pan during the last 5 minutes of simmering so they absorb some of the gravy. Taste and adjust seasoning. Garnish with fresh thyme if desired and serve warm, over white rice if you like.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pork Chops & Acorn Squash — The Recipe That Carries Brenda Forward