Slow Cooker Pulled Pork

Scott got his first deployment call on Tuesday. A fire in the Frank Church Wilderness — 2,000 acres and growing. He was out the door in three hours with his pack and his boots and a kiss on top of Mason's head and a wave at Lily that she didn't see because she was watching Sesame Street. He didn't kiss me. He hasn't kissed me goodbye in months. I'm not sure when that stopped. I just know it did, the way you notice one morning that a picture frame has been crooked on the wall and you don't know when it tilted but you know it wasn't always like that.

So the solo parenting begins. The rhythm changes immediately. I wake up earlier — 5:15 instead of 5:45 — because everything takes longer when there's only one adult. I get the kids up, dressed, fed (cereal, always cereal on weekday mornings, because cooking breakfast for a two-year-old and a four-year-old before 7 AM is a bridge too far). Drop Lily at the sitter. Drop Mason at preschool. Drive to the clinic. Work. Pick up Mason. Pick up Lily. Home. Dinner. Bath. Books. Bed. Collapse. There is no hand-off, no relief, no one to tag in. It is me and the children and Hank and the knowledge that Scott is somewhere in a wilderness, surrounded by fire, and he is not thinking about us because he can't afford to think about us, and we are thinking about him because we can't help it.

Mason was a trooper this week. He's been through fire season three times now and he knows the routine — Dad leaves, Mom gets quiet, the house feels different. He helped me set the table every night without being asked. He read to Lily from his picture books, doing the voices, making her laugh. He is four years old and he is already learning to fill the space his father leaves behind, and I don't know whether to be proud of him or heartbroken for him. Both. The answer is always both.

I called Mom on Wednesday night after the kids were asleep. I do this during fire season — call Mom, drink a glass of wine, sit on the porch with Hank. Mom doesn't say much. She listens. She makes small sounds of acknowledgment. "Mmm." "I know." "You're doing fine." This is what I need — not advice, not solutions, just someone on the other end of the line breathing at the same time I'm breathing.

At the clinic, summer is in full force. Allergies, foxtails in ears, rattlesnake bites (this is Idaho — rattlesnakes are a reality from June through September). We had two snake bites this week, both dogs, both survived because the owners got them in fast. Antivenin is expensive — $800 a vial — but it works, and there is nothing quite like watching a dog go from swollen and lethargic to alert and wagging in the space of twelve hours. Medicine is miracle work. Even when it's animal medicine. Even when it's a dog who stuck its nose in a rock pile where anyone with sense would know better.

I made a slow cooker pulled pork on Sunday. Six pounds of pork shoulder, a bottle of barbecue sauce (Sweet Baby Ray's — I'm not proud, but I'm honest), garlic, onion, low for ten hours. I shredded it with two forks while Mason watched and Lily tried to steal pieces. We ate pulled pork sandwiches for dinner and I portioned the rest into freezer bags — pulled pork for tacos, pulled pork for nachos, pulled pork for sandwiches later in the week. This is how I survive fire season: I cook big on Sunday and live off it all week. It's the ranch way. Diane Dawson cooked enough on Sunday to carry the family through Wednesday, and I do the same, because the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, especially when the tree is standing in a kitchen holding a slow cooker.

After two days of watching Lily wobble and wait and finally come back to herself, I needed something that required almost nothing from me—something I could set going in the morning and just let run while the rest of the week sorted itself out. Pulled pork is exactly that kind of cooking: low, slow, and forgiving, which is about all I had to offer that Sunday. Here’s how I made it.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 10 hours | Total Time: 10 hours 10 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

6 lbs bone-in pork shoulder (also sold as pork butt)
1 bottle (18 oz) barbecue sauce, divided (Sweet Baby Ray’s original works fine)
1 medium yellow onion, roughly sliced
4 cloves garlic, smashed
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup water or chicken broth

Instructions

Season the pork. Pat the pork shoulder dry with paper towels. Mix the salt, pepper, smoked paprika, and garlic powder and rub it all over the meat. You don’t need to be precise about this.
Build the base. Layer the sliced onion and smashed garlic across the bottom of a 6-quart slow cooker. Pour in the apple cider vinegar and water or broth.
Add the pork. Set the pork shoulder on top of the onion and garlic, fat side up. Pour half the bottle of barbecue sauce over the top.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 9–10 hours. Do not open the lid. The pork is ready when it pulls apart easily with two forks and the internal temperature reads at least 195°F.
Shred. Remove the pork to a large cutting board or bowl and discard the bone if there is one. Use two forks to shred the meat, pulling it apart into long pieces. Discard any large pieces of fat.
Sauce and return. Pour the remaining half of the barbecue sauce over the shredded pork and stir to combine. Return the meat to the slow cooker and let it sit on WARM for 15 minutes to absorb.
Portion for the week. Serve immediately on sandwich rolls, then divide the remainder into 2-cup portions in zip-top freezer bags. Label them. You now have tacos, nachos, and sandwiches waiting for you on the nights when cooking is not happening.

Nutrition (per serving)

Slow Cooker Pulled Pork — The Sunday Cook That Carries a Fire Season Household All Week