Baked Pork Loin Roast

The Houston Chronicle article ran on Wednesday. Front page of the food section. Full color photo of me standing next to the smoker, holding tongs in one hand and a La Croix in the other. The headline: "Bobby Tran: The Pitmaster Who Put Fish Sauce on the Map." I stared at the newspaper for ten minutes. I'm on the front page of the food section of the Houston Chronicle. A C-student shrimp boat dropout who sold restaurant equipment for twenty years is on the front page of the paper that my father used to read every morning with his Vietnamese coffee. The article was comprehensive. The writer told the story well — the refugee parents, the shrimp boats, the drinking, the recovery, the cooking, the competitions, the pop-ups. She quoted me: "Food is the one thing I never messed up. I messed up my marriage, I messed up my twenties, I almost messed up my life. But I never messed up a brisket." The response was immediate. My phone exploded. The Bobby Tran BBQ Instagram went from 5,000 to 12,000 followers in two days. The December pop-up — not yet announced — already had a pre-registration list of 400 people. The real estate investor called again. A food truck company called. A venture capitalist's assistant called. I didn't call anyone back. Not yet. I'm still processing Ray's death. I'm still processing the fact that my face is in the newspaper. I'm still processing the distance between the kitchen floor and the front page. Ma saw the article. Linh brought her a copy. Ma looked at the photo and said, "You should have worn a better shirt." Then she read the article — Linh read it to her in Vietnamese, translating as she went — and when Linh got to the part about the boat, Ma put her hand on the paper and said, "This is right. This is how it was." This is how it was. The Chronicle got it right. Ma confirmed it. The story is told. Made thit kho this week. The caramelized pork. The dish that means home. Ate it alone on a Wednesday night, looking at the newspaper on the table, thinking about Ray and Ma and Huy and the kitchen floor and the front page and the smoke that keeps rising. The fire keeps burning. The story keeps being told.

Thit kho is the dish I reach for when everything is too big to hold — the newspaper on the table, the phone ringing, Ray’s absence still sitting in the room. This baked pork loin roast isn’t my ma’s exact recipe, but it carries the same logic: low heat, patience, fat rendering into something that tastes like you’re supposed to be here. Some weeks you need the smoke pit. Some Wednesday nights, you just need pork and quiet.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 15 min | Total Time: 1 hr 30 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 1/2 to 3 lb boneless pork loin roast
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1 tablespoon brown sugar, packed
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth (for pan)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Pat the pork loin dry with paper towels and place it fat-side up in a roasting pan or oven-safe skillet.
Make the rub. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, garlic, soy sauce, fish sauce, brown sugar, smoked paprika, black pepper, salt, onion powder, and thyme until a loose paste forms.
Coat the roast. Rub the mixture all over the pork loin, pressing it into the surface. Let it sit at room temperature for 10 minutes while the oven finishes heating.
Add broth and roast. Pour the chicken broth into the bottom of the pan. Roast uncovered for 60—75 minutes, or until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part reads 145°F.
Rest before slicing. Remove from the oven, tent loosely with foil, and rest for 10 minutes. This keeps the juices where they belong. Slice against the grain and serve with pan drippings spooned over the top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Baked Pork Loin Roast — When the Front Page Sends You Back to the Stove