Sweet and Sour Pork

Last week of May, and the Memphis summer is knocking. Not yet arrived, but knocking — the way a neighbor knocks when they can see through the screen door that you're home and they know you know they're there and it's just a matter of time before you let them in. Eighty-six degrees on Wednesday. Humidity creeping up. My uniform shirt started the week dry and ended the week as a memory of dryness.

I spent the week thinking about Dr. Barker's ultimatum — new knee or no route — and I realized that the decision isn't really about the knee. The knee is the messenger. The message is: Earl, you are fifty-eight years old and you have been asking your body to do things for thirty-seven years that your body was never designed to do indefinitely, and the bill has come due, and the bill doesn't negotiate.

Marcus came by Wednesday evening with news: he's bought a ring. He showed it to me in the backyard, away from the windows, because Angela cannot know, and the ring was beautiful — a simple solitaire, classic, the kind of ring that says "I am serious" without saying "I am trying too hard." He bought it with money he saved from tutoring after school, which means this ring was purchased with overtime and intention, and there is no better currency for a proposal.

I held the ring and felt the weight of it — not the physical weight, which was negligible, but the weight of what it represented: my son's commitment, his future, his declaration that he is ready to be a husband. I thought about the ring I gave Rosetta in 1984 — a thin gold band with a chip of a diamond that cost me two weeks' pay from the post office and that Rosetta still wears, thirty-three years later, on a finger that has done more good in the world than any diamond deserves.

I gave the ring back to Marcus and said, "When?" He said, "June. Her birthday." I said, "Perfect." He said, "Dad, I'm nervous." I said, "Good. If you're not nervous, you're not paying attention." He laughed. I hugged him. It was the kind of hug that happens between fathers and sons at the hinge moments — too tight, too long, full of everything that neither of us knows how to say.

Saturday I made smoked sausage links — a full batch, Uncle Clyde's recipe, the labor-intensive one that requires grinding the pork shoulder coarse, mixing the spices by hand, stuffing the casings, and smoking for two hours. I make them when I need to feel connected to something permanent, because the recipe doesn't change, the smoker doesn't change, and the sausage that comes off the grate is the same sausage Uncle Clyde served on Lamar Avenue in 1975, and that consistency is its own kind of comfort.

The smoked sausage came out right on Saturday—the way it always does when I slow down and let the process lead. But not everyone has a smoker and a full afternoon, and there are weeks when you need that same pork-and-spice comfort without the two-hour smoke. This Sweet and Sour Pork is what I reach for on those days—it still starts with a good cut of pork, still rewards patience, and still puts something on the table that feels like it belongs to somebody rather than coming out of a box. Uncle Clyde would have understood.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs pork shoulder, cut into 1-inch cubes
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup cornstarch, divided
2 eggs, beaten
3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 green bell pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup fresh pineapple chunks (or canned, drained)
1/2 white onion, cut into chunks
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
1/3 cup ketchup
1/4 cup rice vinegar
3 tablespoons soy sauce
3 tablespoons brown sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in 2 tablespoons cold water (slurry)
Cooked white rice, for serving
Sliced green onions, for garnish

Instructions

Season and coat the pork. Pat the pork cubes dry with paper towels. Season with salt and pepper. Dredge each piece in 6 tablespoons of the cornstarch, then dip in the beaten egg, then coat again lightly in the remaining cornstarch. Set on a plate in a single layer.
Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together the ketchup, rice vinegar, soy sauce, and brown sugar until the sugar dissolves. Set aside.
Fry the pork. Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat until shimmering. Working in batches to avoid crowding, cook the pork cubes for 3—4 minutes per side until golden brown and cooked through. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate.
Cook the vegetables. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the pan. Add the onion, bell peppers, garlic, and ginger. Stir-fry over high heat for 3—4 minutes until the vegetables are just tender but still have some bite.
Add pineapple and sauce. Add the pineapple to the pan and stir to combine. Pour in the sauce and bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring constantly.
Thicken and finish. Stir in the cornstarch slurry and cook for 1—2 minutes until the sauce thickens and coats the back of a spoon. Return the fried pork to the pan and toss everything together until evenly glazed and heated through.
Serve. Spoon over steamed white rice and garnish with sliced green onions. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sweet and Sour Pork — Uncle Clyde’s Recipe Lives in Every Batch I Make