It’s no accident that I work in a butcher shop. I grew up in a family that loved to cook and eat delicious food—especially meat. My parents did a good job of playing the hits with the dinnertime favorites, and then mixing in some new dishes. Pork chops were in the rotation, but I have to admit that I never really looked forward to them.

Whether it was what we were buying, or how we were preparing it, or both, I don’t know. We would do the shake-and-bake and into-the-oven thing with them. The breading was never great, the meat was always dry, and frankly—there was always something sort of off-putting about the flavor of the fat.

After graduating college, I worked as a cheesemonger and went to grad school for creative writing. I wasn’t rolling in the dough so much as I was rolling the dough out myself and eating at home. I kept trying with the pork chops. I was highly motivated: pork chops were cheap, they were meat, and you could fry them—that was all stuff I liked. I must have tried dozens of times, and yet I never really fell in love with the results.

The crash course in meat that came with working at a butcher shop was transformative in this regard. I learned that although there are dozens of breeds of pig out there, only 3 are commonly found in most grocery stores. Those breeds are selected and bred based on how quickly they mature, how easy they are to raise, and how much they conform with the industry’s “other white meat” messaging. Flavor is not a primary factor, relative to the other economic incentives.

In many ways, the story of pork in the 20th century reflects many of the other trends that were happening contemporarily, mainly the big one: the relentless consolidation and accumulation of capital, at the expense of every other meaningful factor. For instance: flavor. For instance: the environment. For instance: animal welfare. Human health. The economic viability of small farms.

When I tell you that my first heritage breed pork chop changed my life, I am being as sincere as I know how to be. Everybody in the meat shop has heard me say this millions of times, but the fat tasted like buttered popcorn. The meat tasted more like steak than it did any pork chop I’d eaten before—rich, juicy, and satisfying. This. This was the pork chop that I didn’t know I’d been waiting for.

Eric at Pork and Plants raises his animals and grows his crops with great care. Nothing about what he does is profit-first. Instead, he aims to be as good a steward of his land and animals as he can, and trust that the money will come. The results bear out the process; this is incredible, qualitatively different meat. It’s why we’re so enthusiastic about it, and why we’re so desperate for you to try this pork.

For the chops, you don’t need to brine them or bread them or marinate them overnight. A little salt and pepper is just fine. Sear them off, about four minutes each side on the stove or the grill. Cook them indirect for another 4 minutes, either in the oven or on the cooler side of the grill, until an instant-read thermometer reads 130. Let them rest another 4 minutes before serving. You want that meat to be pink, and the fat to be soft, and you’ll want to at least take a bite of that fat. You might feel like your life has changed, too

MEAT CUT OF THE WEEK

Every week, our butchers break down 5 animals– and that’s about 95% of the meat that we sell out of our cases any given week, with some supplemental stock added in. That means that we often have greater breadth than depth. One hanger steak per animal means 1 steak a week, at best– sometimes it hits the cutting room floor. So what do you do if you come into our shop looking for hanger (or flank, or bavette, etc…) and we don’t have one? You join us on a voyage of discovery. Introducing: meat cut of the week, brought to you by your friendly neighborhood meat mongers.

WEEK 1

Denver Steak:

Also called the Zabuton or the Underblade, the Denver steak was “discovered” by meat scientists at the University of Denver as a part of an early 2000s study to identify more marketable meat cuts. When we first opened our shop we called the Denver the “Faux Hanger” in a nod to its eating characteristics.

The Denver sits in between the Chuck Eye and the Flat Iron. Move towards the neck of the animal and you have boneless short ribs; move towards the rear of the animal and you run into the Ribeye. It’s not going to be the most tender steak you’ll ever eat, but neither is Hanger, and this cut is priced accordingly. Maybe don’t serve it to your in-laws, but if you cook the Denver to medium rare and cut it against the grain it’s good eating. Salt and pepper is great; make a red wine pan sauce and you have a shockingly elegant meal.

But if you’re thinking about firing up the grill, maybe try this:

Marinated Denver Steaks for the Grill

–4 6oz Denver Steaks

–1.5 tsp salt

–3/4 tsp black pepper

–3 cloves garlic, minced

–1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce (might we suggest Col. Pabst?)

–1/4 cup olive oil

–juice of 1 lemon

Marinate the steaks in the above for at least 2 hours, and up to overnight. A ziploc with all the air squeezed out (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XrZPLF0ezw8) is great, or tossing the steaks and marinade in a bowl works well too.

Grill the steaks over high heat, until seared on all sides and the internal temperature is 120. Rest 5-10 minutes before serving and cut against the grain. MN Tri Tip, Flank, Sirloin, and many other steaks would all work equally well with this kind of treatment. And one of our friendly butchers can help you adapt this recipe to work with another cut.

Stir fries are a great choice for planners and improvisers alike. A couple pro tips:

–Maximize your flavor factor by sauteing the meat first, until it’s nicely browned, and then removing it from the heat and reserving it until the end. Deglaze the pan at a medium high temperature with just a splash of water to pull the flavorful browned bits off the pan, then add some fat (peanut oil is delicious in a stir fry! corn oil or olive oil work well too) and reduce the heat to medium by medium low.

–Add your aromatics. Garlic and onion are a great way to start. If you’re using ginger, mince it finely and add it just before you toss in the rest of your vegetables.

–Strategically add vegetables in order of how long it’ll take to cook them. The thinner the veggies are, the faster they’ll cook. Put your halved jalapenos and bell peppers in in before you add the bok choy or other greens. You can always slice your vegetables thinner to make them operate on your timeline.

–Put the reserved meat back into the pan and add any seasonings you desire. Remember to use at least a little salt; a few shakes of sesame oil makes for a transcendent touch and adds a nice satiny texture to the proceedings that somehow makes everything taste more savory. Many folks like adding some kind of hot sauce for spice, and a fish sauce or a soy sauce can up the umami factor. Taste the dish as you go and adjust accordingly. Understand that sometimes 4 or 5 flavors can make for a bolder and more interesting dish than 7 or 8.

–If you’re using some kind of noodle you can throw it in around here (after you’ve cooked it, of course).

–Last touch: acid, brightness, and freshness. A few squeezes of lime juice or lemon, and some chopped cilantro or basil, can elevate the dish to another level. You don’t want these elements to cook too much (though basil can benefit from being wilted just a touch). Some chopped green onion at the end is also nice.

Serve with rice or the aforementioned noodles and you’re in business– all to the tune of about a half an hour of cooking and the cost of meat plus leftover vegetables. If you’re not making one night of the week a stir-fry night, you gotta start.

We can help set you up with meat that’s going to work. Chicken wise, we love making our stir-fries with a mix of white and dark meat. The contrast is a winning one and the white meat on our chickens is exceptional– it holds up orders of magnitude better to cooking like this than your average, industrially produced chicken breast. An enormous variety of beef options await you in our case, and we love using thin slices of pork sirloin in a dish like this. Depending on the direction you want to go in, sausage can be great too– the Linguica, Andouille, Green Chorizo, and Italian would all shine cooked with some peppers and other vegetables.

If you feel like attaining some extra credit, you can marinate or season your meat a couple hours (or a day or two) ahead of time. Salt and pepper are the building blocks for pre-seasoning but garlic, ginger, soy sauce, yogurt– all these things can make an impact.

And of course, you can always walk in and bounce a couple ideas around with the staff. We look forward to consulting on your next stir fry adventure soon.

It’s no secret: the pork chops we carry, from Pork and Plants farm in Altura, MN, are ridiculously tasty. Did you know that you can get them double-cut, so that they’re twice as thick, with a maximal amount of juicy pink medium pork in the middle? If you’re feeling adventurous (or very, very hungry) you can even get them triple-cut, quadruple cut, quintuple cut—the possibilities are endless (or at least, they go up to 12 [with a little advance notice]). Think of it as an outstandingly porky alternative to prime rib. And if you were looking for a prime rub to go with it, you might try this brine, courtesy of our lead butcher Scott.

Scott’s Maple Majesty Double-Cut Pork Chop Brine

This brine is perfect for a double-cut, extra thick pork chop. Like most transcendent recipes, the secret is the simplicity—it’s what translates into boldness.

–1 qt water

–1/4 cup maple syrup

–1/8 cup salt

Heat the ingredients gently over the stove until the salt has fully dissolved. Let cool, and place over pork chops for 12-24 hours.

When it comes time to cook the pork chop, aim to eat it at an internal temperature of 140—so take it off the heat at 130. For an extra thick chop, plan on searing over the stove for about 4 minutes a side, at medium-high heat, and finishing in the oven for 6-8 minutes at 375. For bulletproof results, use an instant-read thermometer.