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Rice-Stuffed Pork Chops — The Abundance on the Table When the Year Turns

New Year's Eve, the threshold between what was and what will be, and I stand in the kitchen making Hoppin' John for tomorrow — the black-eyed peas that promise luck, the rice that promises abundance, the tradition that promises continuity in a world that guarantees nothing. I have made Hoppin' John every New Year's Day since I married Robert, and the ritual is not superstition but liturgy — a meal that marks the calendar the way a hymn marks the service, not because the hymn changes anything but because the singing of it declares that you are here, you are faithful, you are still standing at the stove.

The year behind us: 2018. The year Mama and Joy moved in. The year James graduated and started college. The year Carrie went to New York and came back changed. The year I learned that a house can hold five people and three generations and one disease and still stand. The year the kitchen became the center of gravity for a family that needed a center and found it in the place where the food is made.

Mama fell asleep at nine PM, which is early even for her, and the sleeping was deep and peaceful and I covered her with the afghan Carolyn's mother crocheted sixty years ago and I thought: sleep, Mama. Tomorrow is another year and you will face it with whatever clarity you have and whatever confusion comes, and I will be here, in the kitchen, making the food that connects this year to the next.

Robert and I stayed up until midnight. We sat on the piazza with champagne — the good kind, because Robert considers cheap champagne an act of hostility — and we listened to the fireworks over the harbor and we did not make resolutions because we have been married for twenty-one years and we have learned that the most important resolution is also the simplest: show up. Tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. Until the showing up becomes the life, and the life becomes the story, and the story becomes the thing you tell your grandchildren while you stir the roux.

I made the Hoppin' John with smoked ham hock and a bay leaf and the slow patience that the dish requires. The peas simmered all afternoon while the year wound down, and the simmering was both cooking and meditation, and the meditation was this: we made it. Another year. The family is intact. The house is standing. The peas are done. And tomorrow, we eat them, and the eating is the prayer, and the prayer is the luck, and the luck is just another word for the stubbornness of people who refuse to stop gathering around a table.

The Hoppin’ John simmered all New Year’s Eve on one burner, but the next day — when Mama was up and clear-eyed and James had driven back in from school and Carrie was still in the house — I needed something more substantial, something that said we are celebrating as much as it said we are nourishing. Rice-Stuffed Pork Chops are the answer I keep coming back to: the rice tucked inside the pork carries both the abundance and the luck of the season, and the whole dish feels like something a table full of people deserves after a year like the one we had just survived. You work a little harder for a meal like this, and the working harder is the point.

Rice-Stuffed Pork Chops

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 4 bone-in pork loin chops (about 1 1/4 inches thick, 8 oz each)
  • 1 cup cooked long-grain white rice
  • 1/3 cup finely diced yellow onion
  • 1/3 cup finely diced celery
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
  • 1/4 teaspoon dried sage
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for seasoning chops
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper, plus more for seasoning chops
  • 1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth, divided
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 2 teaspoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for garnish)

Instructions

  1. Make the stuffing. In a small skillet over medium heat, melt 1 tablespoon butter. Add onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic, thyme, and sage and cook 1 minute more. Remove from heat and stir in cooked rice, 2 tablespoons of the chicken broth, salt, and pepper. Let cool slightly.
  2. Prepare the chops. Using a sharp paring knife, cut a deep horizontal pocket into the side of each pork chop, cutting nearly to the bone without piercing the other side. Pat chops dry and season generously on both sides with salt and pepper.
  3. Stuff the chops. Divide the rice stuffing evenly among the four chops, pressing it firmly into each pocket. Secure the opening with one or two toothpicks to keep the stuffing in place during cooking.
  4. Sear the chops. Preheat oven to 350°F. In an oven-safe skillet or Dutch oven, heat olive oil and remaining 1 tablespoon butter over medium-high heat. Sear stuffed chops for 2–3 minutes per side until golden brown. Work in batches if needed to avoid crowding the pan.
  5. Braise and bake. Return all chops to the skillet. Pour the remaining chicken broth around (not over) the chops. Cover tightly with a lid or foil and transfer to the preheated oven. Bake for 35–40 minutes, until the internal temperature of the pork reaches 145°F and the stuffing is heated through.
  6. Rest and serve. Remove toothpicks. Let chops rest 5 minutes before serving. Spoon any pan juices over the top and garnish with fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg

Naomi Blackwood
About the cook who shared this
Naomi Blackwood
Week 145 of Naomi’s 30-year story · Charleston, South Carolina
Naomi is a retired librarian from Charleston who spent thirty-one years putting books in people's hands and now spends her days putting her mother's Lowcountry recipes on paper before they're lost. She survived her husband's affair, her father's sudden death, and the long goodbye of her mother's final years. She cooks she-crab soup in a bowl that Carolyn brought from Beaufort, and in every spoonful you can taste the marsh and the memory and the grace of a woman who chose to stay and rebuild.

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