Pork Satay — The Recipe That Belongs Only to Me

The week after the anniversary I always cook something that isn't Mama's. Something new. Something that belongs only to me. It's my way of saying: the grief had its day, and now the living gets the rest. This year I made Thai basil chicken — fish sauce, oyster sauce, Thai basil, bird's eye chilies, garlic, served over jasmine rice. A recipe I found three years ago and have been perfecting. It's not Southern. It's not inherited. It's mine. And cooking something mine after cooking something Mama's is the balance — the inherited and the invented, the Folgers can and the fish sauce, the woman I was taught to be and the woman I'm choosing to become.

Got a response to one of the query letters. A rejection. A polite one — "not the right fit for our list at this time" — but a rejection nonetheless. I read it at the kitchen table and felt the specific deflation of a person who put her heart on paper and had it returned unopened. Derek read it over my shoulder and said, "First one. Not the last one. Send more." He's right. He's always right in the ways that matter. I sent three more queries that evening.

Set the Table news: the 501(c)(3) was approved. We are officially a nonprofit. Tax-exempt. Board of directors. Real. I held the letter from the IRS in the church kitchen on Saturday morning while twenty girls cracked eggs around me and I thought: this piece of paper means the program outlives me. The program outlives my energy, my health, my presence. The program belongs to the table now, not just to the woman who set it.

Made celebration dinner — Mama's fried chicken, the real version, because some celebrations demand the original. And cornbread. And mac and cheese. The full spread for four. Because four is enough. Because the celebration doesn't need a crowd. The celebration needs a table and food and the people who show up. We showed up. All four of us. Curtis ate two pieces and said nothing. The nothing, as always, was everything.

Thai basil chicken is mine — but it’s also just the beginning of the pantry I’ve been building on the other side of grief: fish sauce, garlic, bold heat, flavors nobody taught me at the table I grew up at. Pork satay lives in that same territory: a Southeast Asian marinade, a peanut dipping sauce made from scratch, something that asks me to be present and curious instead of only reverent. After a week that held a 501(c)(3) approval, a rejection letter, and Mama’s fried chicken for celebration — all four of us around the table — this is the recipe I reach for when I want to cook forward. The invented. The chosen. Mine.

Pork Satay

Prep Time: 20 min (plus 30 min marinating) | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min active | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs pork tenderloin, sliced thin against the grain into 1/4-inch strips
• 3 tablespoons soy sauce
• 2 tablespoons fish sauce
• 2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
• 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
• 2 teaspoons curry powder
• 1 teaspoon ground turmeric
• 1 teaspoon ground coriander
• 3 cloves garlic, finely minced
• 1 tablespoon neutral oil (vegetable or avocado)
• Wooden or metal skewers (if wooden, soak in water 30 minutes)

For the peanut dipping sauce:

• 1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
• 1/4 cup full-fat coconut milk
• 2 tablespoons soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon chili garlic sauce (more to taste)
• 2–3 tablespoons warm water, to thin

Instructions

1. Marinate the pork. In a medium bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, fish sauce, brown sugar, lime juice, curry powder, turmeric, coriander, garlic, and oil. Add the sliced pork and toss to coat thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to 4 hours.
2. Make the peanut sauce. Combine peanut butter, coconut milk, soy sauce, lime juice, brown sugar, and chili garlic sauce in a small saucepan over low heat. Stir until smooth and warmed through, 3–4 minutes. Add warm water a tablespoon at a time until the sauce reaches a pourable but slightly thick consistency. Taste and adjust heat or sweetness. Remove from heat and set aside.
3. Thread the skewers. Remove pork from the marinade, shaking off any excess. Thread 3–4 strips onto each skewer in a gentle weaving motion so the meat lies flat and will cook evenly.
4. Grill or broil. Heat a grill or grill pan to medium-high, or set your oven broiler to high with a rack 6 inches from the element. Cook skewers 3–4 minutes per side until the pork is cooked through, slightly charred at the edges, and no longer pink in the center (internal temperature 145°F).
5. Rest and serve. Let skewers rest 3 minutes before serving. Arrange on a platter with the warm peanut dipping sauce alongside. Garnish with sliced cucumber, fresh cilantro, and an extra squeeze of lime if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 390 | Protein: 36g | Fat: 20g | Carbs: 15g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 920mg