Pork with Sweet Potatoes

First week of August. Camp continues. The team scrimmaged on Saturday — a closed scrimmage, no audience, no parents, just the team going against itself in a controlled live setting. The scrimmage was the first time the offense and defense have gone full speed against each other this year. The offense won the day, narrowly. The defense gave up two big plays in the second half — a deep route that Daquan should have rushed harder on, a screen that Anthony got fooled by — but otherwise tackled well, defended the run, and showed me that the foundation Tony has built is going to hold under fire. The offense, meanwhile, executed at a level I have not seen at this stage of camp before. Marcus threw for what would have been three hundred yards if it had been a real game. Diego had eight catches for one-thirty. Daquan dropped Marcus on a pass rush in the third quarter and the whole defensive sideline lost their minds. We are good. We have a long way to go. We are good.

Lisa worked four shifts this week, including two nights, and we have not seen each other for any extended stretch since the previous Sunday. The schedule of a high school football coach's wife in the month of August is a particular kind of hell. The husband leaves the house at five and gets home at nine. The wife is on her own shifts and on her own version of a schedule. The kids — when they are still home, which Diego and Sofia mostly are this summer, although Sofia has running camp every morning and a series of late-summer trips with her running friends, and Diego is at the field most of the day — are old enough not to need direct supervision but still need a parent in the building most of the time. Lisa has been carrying that. She has been quiet about it. She has been kind about it. She has not complained.

I noticed Wednesday morning at six a.m. when I was leaving for practice and she was just getting home from a night shift. She was at the kitchen sink in her scrubs drinking water out of a glass and she had the look on her face that she gets when she is exhausted in a way that goes deeper than tired. I stopped in the doorway. I said, "Lisa." She said, "I am okay." I said, "You are not okay." She said, "Carlos, I am okay enough to get through the day. I will sleep. We can talk later." I said, "We will talk later." I went to practice.

That night I cancelled the staff dinner I had on the calendar for Friday night. I told Mike Reyes we would do it next Friday instead. I came home from practice Friday at nine, made pulled chicken on the smoker — I had started it Friday morning before practice, smoked it for six hours indirect at two-fifty, pulled it before practice, kept it warm in the oven on low — and Lisa and I had a quiet dinner on the patio at nine-thirty. Just the two of us. The kids had eaten earlier. Diego was at Hayley's house. Sofia was at her friend's. The twins were upstairs watching a movie.

Lisa said, "You did not have to cancel your dinner." I said, "I had to cancel my dinner." She said, "I am okay." I said, "We are not in this house enough together right now." She said, "It is August. It is the season. I have done this for ten Augusts. I will be fine." I said, "I know you will be fine. But I am also going to be present. Tonight is present. Mike will keep." She nodded. She ate the pulled chicken. She had two helpings, which she rarely does. She said, "Carlos, this is delicious." I said, "I know." She said, "I love you." I said, "I love you back."

The pulled chicken was a recipe I have been refining since before Diego was born. Whole chickens, brined overnight in salt, sugar, and a little chile, smoked over apple wood for three hours, raised to two-eighty-five for two more hours, finished at one-sixty-five internal, rested for forty-five minutes, pulled by hand into long shreds, tossed with a sauce that is barbecue sauce, lime juice, a little of the smoke drippings, and a finishing handful of chopped roasted green chile. Served on white bread with slaw, or on fresh tortillas with onion and cilantro, or in a bowl with rice and beans. I had made it three ways for Friday's dinner, knowing Lisa would want flexibility.

We sat on the patio until eleven. The August heat was breaking. There was a cool breeze coming down off the foothills. Lisa was barefoot. I was barefoot. The twins finished their movie and came out to the patio for ten minutes to give us a goodnight, which is a habit they have learned from Lisa, and which I treasure. They went up. We sat. Lisa said, "Tell me about the team." I told her about the scrimmage. I told her about Daquan. I told her about Marcus and Diego. She listened. She does not ask about the team often. When she does, the asking is a gift. I gave her a longer answer than usual. She nodded. She said, "I think this is your year." I said, "I am not saying that out loud." She said, "I am saying it out loud. So you do not have to." She kissed me. We went to bed. I prayed. The dog tags were on the chain. The chain was around my neck. The road bends. Feed your people. The game is won at the table.

The pulled chicken was the centerpiece that Friday night, but the dish I keep coming back to — the one that has fed my family through more August weeks than I can count, the one that does not require the smoker running all day, the one Lisa can warm back up on her own after a long shift without it losing anything — is pork with sweet potatoes. It is slower than it looks and simpler than it seems, and when everything in the house is moving too fast, there is something right about building a meal around a cut of meat that does not let you rush it.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 50 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 lbs boneless pork shoulder, trimmed and cut into 2-inch chunks
2 large sweet potatoes (about 1 1/2 lbs), peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
1 medium yellow onion, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Fresh cilantro, for serving
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Season and sear the pork. Pat pork chunks dry with paper towels and season all over with salt, pepper, smoked paprika, and cumin. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches, sear pork on all sides until deep brown, about 3—4 minutes per side. Transfer seared pieces to a plate and set aside.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add onion to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 more minute until fragrant. Stir in oregano and red pepper flakes if using.
Deglaze and braise. Pour in the chicken broth and use a wooden spoon to scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Add diced tomatoes with their juices and stir to combine. Return seared pork to the pot, nestling pieces into the liquid. Bring to a simmer, then reduce heat to low, cover, and cook for 45 minutes.
Add the sweet potatoes. Uncover, add sweet potato cubes, and gently stir to submerge in the braising liquid. Replace the lid and continue cooking over low heat for an additional 35—40 minutes, until the sweet potatoes are fork-tender and the pork pulls apart easily with a spoon.
Finish and adjust. Use two forks or the back of a spoon to break the pork into large, rustic shreds directly in the pot. Taste and adjust seasoning with additional salt and pepper. If the sauce is thinner than you prefer, simmer uncovered for 5—10 minutes to reduce slightly.
Serve. Ladle into bowls or spoon over white rice. Finish with fresh cilantro and a squeeze of lime. This dish holds well on low heat for up to an hour and reheats beautifully the next day.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pork with Sweet Potatoes — The Dinner That Said What Words Couldn’t