Neck Bones and Rice

Second week of May, and Mother's Day again. The second Mother's Day of this blog, and the thing about Mother's Day when you've lost a child is that it never gets easier — it just gets more familiar, the way a scar becomes part of your skin without becoming less of a scar. Rosetta is a mother of four. One of those four is gone. The math doesn't change. The grief doesn't subtract. You celebrate and you mourn in the same breath, and if that sounds impossible, it is, and you do it anyway.

I drove to Whitehaven Saturday to take Mama to lunch. She was having a good day — clear, sharp, present — and she wore the gold cross brooch and a new cardigan Vernell had sent from Atlanta. The soul food place on Elvis Presley Boulevard remembered us. The waitress said, "Hey, Mr. Earl, hey, Miss Pearlie Mae," and Mama beamed because being remembered is its own kind of love, especially at seventy-nine, when the world starts to forget you before you start to forget it.

She ordered the fried catfish. I ordered the smothered pork chops. We split a piece of sweet potato pie that was good but not as good as hers, and she said so, loudly, to the waitress, who took it with the grace of someone who has been told by elderly women that their pie is inferior and has learned to smile and agree. Mama is not diplomatic about pie. Pie is serious. Pie is legacy. And her pie is the standard against which all other pies are measured and found wanting.

Sunday was the day itself. Walter Jr. brought flowers. Marcus and Angela brought brunch — Angela made her sweet potato casserole, which has now been served at enough Johnson events to qualify for permanent residency. Charlie called from Nashville, and she and Rosetta talked for an hour, and when Rosetta hung up she had the look she gets when Charlie has said something that made her both happy and sad, which is the look of a mother who is proud of her daughter's independence and worried about her daughter's solitude in equal measure.

I made the soul food spread: neck bones and rice, collard greens, cornbread, and Mama's sweet potato pie, which Rosetta bakes now with the precision of someone performing sacred rites, because that's what it is — a ritual, a transmission, Pearlie Mae's hands living in Rosetta's hands, feeding the next generation with the last generation's love. We ate. We were full. We were whole enough.

That soul food spread I made on Sunday — the neck bones and rice, the greens, the cornbread — it wasn’t fancy and it wasn’t trying to be. It was the meal you make when you want the house to smell like somebody loves you, when you need the kitchen to do the holding that words can’t manage. Neck bones take time, and time is the whole point: you stand at the stove and you stir and you wait, and the waiting is its own kind of prayer. Here’s how I make them, the way Mama taught me, the way Rosetta and I now make them together.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 2 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 50 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 pounds pork neck bones
1 tablespoon seasoned salt
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 cups beef broth
1 cup water
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 bay leaves
3 cups long-grain white rice, cooked according to package directions
Salt and pepper to taste
Chopped green onions for garnish

Instructions

Season the neck bones. Rinse neck bones under cold water and pat dry. In a small bowl, combine seasoned salt, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, black pepper, and cayenne. Rub the seasoning mixture generously over all the neck bones. Let them sit at room temperature for 15 minutes.
Brown the meat. Heat vegetable oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches so you don’t crowd the pot, brown the neck bones on all sides, about 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer browned pieces to a plate and repeat until all are seared.
Build the flavor base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion to the pot and cook in the drippings, stirring occasionally, until softened and golden, about 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and stir for 30 seconds until fragrant.
Braise low and slow. Return the neck bones to the pot. Pour in the beef broth, water, Worcestershire sauce, and apple cider vinegar. Add the bay leaves. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover tightly and simmer for 2 to 2 1/2 hours, stirring occasionally, until the meat is fall-off-the-bone tender and the gravy has thickened.
Adjust and finish. Remove the bay leaves. Taste the gravy and adjust with salt and pepper as needed. If the gravy is too thin, remove the lid and simmer uncovered for 10 to 15 minutes to reduce.
Serve. Spoon the neck bones and gravy over hot cooked white rice. Garnish with chopped green onions. Serve alongside collard greens and cornbread for the full spread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Neck Bones and Rice — The Soul Food Spread That Held Us Together This Mother’s Day