Sweet and Tangy Asian Pork Chops

Late May. Memorial Day weekend. I took Miya to the coast again — Cannon Beach, our annual pilgrimage, the ocean that she pointed at two years ago and said, "Is that Japan?" This year she said, "Japan is that way," pointing northwest, and the pointing was correct and the knowledge was earned — from Saturday school, from the kitchen, from a childhood spent in the space between two cultures, always orienting, always knowing which direction the other country is, the way a compass always knows which direction is north.

I made onigiri on the beach again — the tradition, the rice and nori and umeboshi, eaten on a towel while the waves crashed and the sand got into everything. Beach onigiri is the best onigiri. Beach onigiri has a crunch that indoor onigiri does not have, the crunch of sand, which is technically a flaw and spiritually a feature — the earth in the rice, the world in the food, the beach saying: I am part of this meal whether you invited me or not.

Miya built a sandcastle and declared it "Obaachan's house." The sandcastle had a kitchen (a hollow scooped in the side) and a garden (shells pressed into the sand) and a window (a hole poked with a stick). I asked who lives there. "Obaachan," she said. "She cooks soup." The sandcastle grandmother, cooking soup in a castle on a beach in Oregon, watched by the Pacific Ocean that separates Oregon from Japan. The image was so beautiful it hurt. The beautiful things always hurt. The hurt is the beauty's receipt — proof that you received it, proof that you were present when the beautiful thing happened, proof that the beautiful thing happened to you.

On the drive home I thought about the Japan trip. Seven years until Miya is twelve. Seven years of saving, of planning, of anticipating the moment when she stands in a market in Tokyo and tastes something and understands something that I cannot teach her in Portland, that only Japan can teach her, that only the country itself can provide: the context. The food needs the country. The country needs the visit. The visit will come. The onigiri will be eaten on a different beach someday. A beach in Japan.

We came home from Cannon Beach with sand in the cooler and something quiet and full sitting in my chest—the kind of feeling that needs a real dinner to settle it, something that tastes like intention. I didn’t want to lose the thread of the day, the Japanese Saturday school geography lesson, the sandcastle grandmother, the Pacific pointing northwest toward a country we’re always orienting toward. These Sweet and Tangy Asian Pork Chops were exactly right—the soy and ginger and honey a familiar shorthand for the flavors that run through our kitchen, the ones Miya is learning to recognize as hers, the ones I hope she tastes someday in the country itself.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 boneless pork chops (about 1 inch thick)
1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce
3 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 tablespoon sesame oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons water
1 tablespoon neutral oil (such as avocado or vegetable oil)
2 green onions, thinly sliced, for garnish
1 teaspoon sesame seeds, for garnish
Salt and black pepper, to taste

Instructions

Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, honey, rice vinegar, sesame oil, garlic, and ginger. Set aside. In a separate small bowl, stir the cornstarch into the water until dissolved; set aside.
Season the pork. Pat the pork chops dry with a paper towel and season both sides lightly with salt and black pepper.
Sear the chops. Heat the neutral oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the pork chops and sear for 4–5 minutes per side, until golden brown and cooked through (internal temperature of 145°F). Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Build the glaze. Reduce heat to medium. Pour the sauce mixture into the same skillet and bring to a gentle simmer, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Stir in the cornstarch slurry and cook for 1–2 minutes, stirring constantly, until the sauce thickens to a glossy glaze.
Finish and serve. Return the pork chops to the skillet and spoon the glaze over each chop, turning once to coat both sides. Serve immediately, garnished with sliced green onions and sesame seeds. Steamed rice alongside is highly recommended.

Nutrition (per serving)

Sweet and Tangy Asian Pork Chops — The Flavors That Point Us Home