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Spicy Tomato Pork Chops — When the Garden Gives You Tomatoes and You Cook Like Betty Did

June is here and the garden needs attention. Connie planted tomatoes and peppers two weeks ago — Better Boys and beefsteaks and banana peppers, the same things she plants every year because Connie doesn't experiment with gardens, she executes a plan. I added a row of green beans because Betty always had green beans, and a row of squash because squash grows whether you want it to or not and I respect that kind of stubbornness. My back doesn't love gardening but gardening doesn't care about my back, and there's something honest about dirt and sun and the absolute indifference of a tomato plant to your physical limitations.

Made fried green tomatoes from the first sacrificial fruits — the ones you pick early to make the plant focus its energy on the bigger tomatoes coming behind. Sliced thick, dredged in cornmeal and flour with salt and pepper, fried in vegetable oil until golden. Betty served them with a sprinkle of salt and nothing else. No remoulade, no fancy sauce, no stack of microgreens on top. A fried green tomato is a fried green tomato and it doesn't need accessories. I ate six of them standing at the counter, burning my fingers because I couldn't wait, and they tasted like the garden in Evarts, like Betty's hands in the soil, like the hillside where she grew food on land the coal company owned and the Hensleys worked and both parties pretended that arrangement was fair.

The cookbook notebook is up to thirty-four recipes now. I spent Wednesday afternoon writing down Betty's leather britches beans — green beans strung on thread and hung to dry in the fall, then rehydrated and cooked slow with pork in the winter. Nobody makes leather britches anymore because nobody strings beans on thread anymore because time is something people don't spend on food the way they used to. But Betty strung beans every August, hanging them from nails on the back porch like a beaded curtain made of vegetables, and the house smelled like green beans drying in the sun, and that smell was summer ending and winter being prepared for, simultaneously. I wrote the recipe in the notebook and my handwriting was as ugly as ever but the words were right and I sealed the page with a strip of clear tape to keep the ink from smudging because some things deserve protection.

The fried green tomatoes were gone before the pan finished cooling, and the garden is already setting more fruit — which means tomatoes are about to become a daily fact of life, the same way they were in Evarts. Betty never let a ripe tomato go to waste, and neither will I. These Spicy Tomato Pork Chops are the natural next step: a skillet supper that puts the garden at the center, pairs the tomatoes with pork the way she always did with her leather britches beans, and doesn’t ask much of you except to pay attention to the pan. It’s the kind of meal that would have made sense on that hillside, on that land, cooked by those hands.

Spicy Tomato Pork Chops

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 4 bone-in pork chops (about 3/4 inch thick)
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 medium yellow onion, sliced thin
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 cups fresh tomatoes, chopped (or one 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes, drained)
  • 1 tablespoon tomato paste
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
  • 1/4 cup chicken broth
  • 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Instructions

  1. Season the chops. Pat pork chops dry with paper towels. Mix salt, black pepper, smoked paprika, and cayenne together, then rub the mixture evenly over both sides of each chop.
  2. Sear the pork. Heat vegetable oil in a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the chops and sear without moving them for 3 to 4 minutes per side until a deep golden crust forms. Transfer to a plate and set aside — they will finish cooking in the sauce.
  3. Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the sliced onion to the same skillet and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes until softened and picking up the browned bits from the pan. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
  4. Add the tomatoes. Stir in the chopped tomatoes, tomato paste, red pepper flakes, and thyme. Pour in the chicken broth and apple cider vinegar. Stir everything together and bring to a gentle simmer, scraping the bottom of the pan clean.
  5. Finish the chops. Nestle the seared pork chops back into the skillet, spooning the tomato mixture over the top. Cover and cook over medium-low heat for 12 to 15 minutes, until the pork is cooked through (internal temperature of 145°F) and the sauce has thickened slightly.
  6. Rest and serve. Let the chops rest in the pan, off the heat, for 3 minutes before serving. Spoon the tomato sauce generously over each chop. Good with cornbread, rice, or nothing at all.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 480mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 322 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

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