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Southwestern Pork Chops — The Fire Doesn’t Stop, and Neither Does the Pork

August 2024. Memphis summer, 65 years old, and the heat wraps around Orange Mound like a wet blanket that nobody asked for but everybody wears because that is the deal you make when you live in the South. The smoker calls louder in summer — something about the heat amplifying the smoke, the way humidity amplifies everything in Memphis — and I answer, because answering is what pitmasters do.

Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 40 years of marriage.

I experimented this week — smoked pork belly burnt ends, cubed and re-smoked with sauce and butter until they were sticky, caramelized, and indecent. The kind of food that makes Rosetta say "Earl, your arteries" and then eat three more pieces, because even nurses have limits, and the limit of smoked pork belly burnt ends has not yet been found by human science.

I sat in the lawn chair next to Uncle Clyde's smoker as the dark came on, and I thought about what I always think about: the chain. From Clyde to me. From me to Trey, maybe, or Jerome, or whoever comes next with the patience and the hands and the willingness to stand next to a fire at three in the morning and wait for something good to happen. The chain doesn't break. The fire doesn't stop. And I am here, 65 years old, in a lawn chair in Orange Mound, Memphis, Tennessee, watching the smoke rise, and the rising is the living, and the living is the gift.

Now, I know what you’re thinking — after a week of pork belly burnt ends and late nights beside the smoker, why would I reach for pork chops? Because the chain I was thinking about in that lawn chair isn’t just about the smoker. It’s about the spice, the patience, the willingness to season something right and let the heat do its work. These Southwestern Pork Chops carry that same spirit — bold rub, searing heat, honest results — and they cook fast enough that Rosetta doesn’t have to worry about my arteries all day, just for the few minutes it takes me to finish my plate and reach for another.

Southwestern Pork Chops

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 4 bone-in pork chops (about 3/4 inch thick)
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
  • Fresh cilantro or parsley, for garnish (optional)
  • Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

  1. Make the rub. In a small bowl, combine chili powder, smoked paprika, cumin, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Stir until evenly mixed.
  2. Season the chops. Pat pork chops dry with paper towels. Press the spice rub evenly onto both sides of each chop, coating well. Let rest at room temperature for 5 to 10 minutes while you heat the pan.
  3. Heat the pan. In a large cast-iron or heavy skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat until shimmering but not smoking.
  4. Sear the chops. Add pork chops to the skillet without crowding. Sear undisturbed for 5 to 6 minutes until a deep golden-brown crust forms. Flip and add the butter to the pan.
  5. Finish cooking. Cook the second side for 4 to 5 more minutes, spooning the melted butter over the chops as they finish. Cook until the internal temperature reaches 145°F at the thickest part.
  6. Rest and serve. Transfer chops to a plate and let rest 3 to 5 minutes before serving. Garnish with fresh cilantro or parsley if desired, and serve with lime wedges on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 439 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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