Inspired by Macau street food, pork chops are pounded thin and marinated overnight, then coated with panko bread crumbs and quickly fried. Serve with tossed greens or on slices of white bread. Recipe below.
[su_dropcap style=”flat”]L[/su_dropcap]ast Friday, Anthony Bourdain broke our hearts. All of our hearts. Partly, of course, because we knew we would never see him again, never hear his funny/smart/poignant/fierce stories again, never vicariously share his adventures again. But what truly broke our hearts was knowing that this generous, gentle, good man had suffered such profound sadness and pain.
The tributes from people whose lives he touched have been endless and eloquent. My own brushes with Bourdain were far more tangential, even accidental. I ate at Brasserie Les Halles on my first trip to New York, where he was executive chef—it was 1998, a little less than a year before The New Yorker published his first story and his life changed forever. I ate there twice that visit, in fact. The fare was classic French brasserie food, perfectly prepared, and the atmosphere was boisterous, warm and welcoming.
I devoured Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly. To me, it remains some of the best writing about food and cooking and life I’ve ever read. It also dispelled any thoughts I had that I might have survived even a day in a commercial kitchen anywhere.
Then in 2010, when he wrote Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook, his ten-years-later update to Kitchen Confidential, I went to see him read from it and stood in line with hundreds of other starstruck fans to have him sign my copy. He was charming, funny, profane and self-deprecating, as we all knew he would be.
And now he is gone. So this week, Marion and I thought we might share one of his recipes, as our own personal farewell. His example encouraged us to explore more, to eat more freely, to always be open to new ideas. This is from Bourdain’s 2016 cookbook Appetites, a pork chop based on one he’d had in Macau. It has the quality of street food from exotic places that he urged us all to embrace. It is also simple (but not too simple), direct and comforting. In his cookbook, it is served between slices of toasted white bread. We also found it served on a mixed green salad. We took that approach. The chops slightly warm the greens in the nicest way.
Macau-style Pork Chops
Adapted from Anthony Bourdain’s Appetites
Serves 4
4 boneless pork chops, about 6 ounces each
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup Chinese rice wine (can substitute Japanese)
1/4 cup black vinegar (can substitute balsamic)
1 tablespoon sesame oil
4 garlic cloves, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 tablespoon five-spice powder
1 tablespoon dark brown sugar, packed
1 large egg plus 1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup panko bread crumbs
1/2 cup canola oil, plus more as needed
chili paste, for serving (see Kitchen Notes)
mixed greens with a simple vinaigrette dressing (optional)
Pound pork chops to 1/4-inch thickness (or thereabouts—I think I achieved 1/3-inch). To do this, either cover individual chops with plastic wrap and bludgeon with a rolling pin or skip the plastic wrap and use a meat mallet. I tried both methods and greatly prefer the meat mallet—works faster, and the spikes break up the meat better, making it more tender when cooked.
Marinate the chops. Mix soy sauce, vinegars, sesame oil, garlic, five-spice powder and brown sugar in a bowl or large measuring cup. Put chops in a sealable plastic bag, add the marinade, making sure the chops are coated on all sides, and seal the bag. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour and preferably up to 12 hours.
Cook the chops. Preheat oven to 200ºF (you’ll probably be cooking in batches, and this will keep them all warm). Remove chops from marinade, scraping off any garlic bits (they’ll just burn in the pan). Arrange 3 shallow bowls on your counter. Put flour in the first and season it with salt and pepper; put the panko bread crumbs in the third. Beat the egg and tablespoon of water in the middle one.
Heat 1/2 cup canola oil over medium-high flame, giving it time to get good and hot. (A few panko crumbs dropped into the oil should sizzle immediately when the pan is ready.) One at a time, dip chops in flour—coating thoroughly, but shaking off excess—then into the egg, then into the panko, pressing lightly to help it stick. Working in batches, add chops to the hot pan and cook, undisturbed, about 5 minutes per side. When turning or removing from pan, work gently with a spatula—the crust is somewhat fragile and may break off.
Transfer cooked chops to paper towel lined plate or baking sheet and stow in warming oven. While chops are cooking, toss your mixed greens, if using. Keep it simple—I made a dressing of olive oil and Japanese rice vinegar (2:1) and seasoned it with salt and pepper.
Divide the greens among four plates and top with the chops. Pass around a small bowl of chili paste and let guests add the amount they want.
Kitchen Notes
Yes, you want the chili paste. We used a Vietnamese chili garlic sauce, but you can also find straight up chili paste. Both pack some heat, so use sparingly or put on the side of your plate to dip chop bites into. If you can’t find—or don’t want—actual chili paste, use sriracha. You do want some heat and some tang with this.
When I worked in Manhattan I used to walk past Les Halles every day for a year or two when I worked a little bit south of it. Never ate there for some reason, though. Kitchen Confidential really opened my eyes. We have a friend who grew up not that far from the location of the Culinary Institute of America (CIA). A very working class upbringing, and she said a lot of her male classmates used to attend the CIA, mainly so they could get jobs that would afford them a better class of drugs. She was joking, but not really. Kitchen life can be rough. Anyway, such sad news. And such a nice way to honor Mr. Bourdain — wonderful looking dish.
Wonderful tribute, Terry. I will miss him dearly. He was about so much more than food.
Nice Terry. Thanks.
Thanks, everyone. I am still saddened by his death. I know I will be for a long time.