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🍂 The BEST Apple-Cider Glazed Pork Chops (A Journey Home) 🍂✨
Posted October 1 · Updated every time Nana calls · 47 min read
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A Crisp Autumn Morning, and a Whisper of Destiny
There’s a moment every year, usually around the third week of September, when I step onto my porch in my oversized cable-knit cardigan (linked here, 12% off with code PORKLOVER), clutch a mug of something steaming, and just know. The air shifts. The leaves begin their slow, golden surrender. Somewhere, a candle that smells like “Harvest Hearth” is being lit. And I whisper to no one in particular:
“It’s pork chop season.”
But to understand these pork chops, you have to understand me. And to understand me, you have to understand my grandmother, Nana Birdie.
Nana Birdie and the Orchard
Nana Birdie lived in a little white farmhouse at the end of a gravel road so long that my father once ran out of gas on it twice in the same trip. Behind that farmhouse was an apple orchard. Forty-two trees. She had named every single one of them. There was Gerald. There was Big Susan. There was a small, sickly tree in the back she called “The Disappointment,” and she said that name with so much love.
Every October, Nana Birdie would press cider in a hand-cranked press that had belonged to her mother, and her mother’s mother, and, according to family legend, a traveling salesman who left it behind in 1911 along with one boot. I would stand beside her on a milk crate, eight years old, turning the crank with both arms, and she would say:
“Honey, the secret to a good cider is patience.”
I later learned the actual secret was that she was adding store-bought apple juice when nobody was looking. But the spirit of what she said remains true. Patience. Remember that word. It’s important. (It’s not important.)
The Wilderness Years
When I went off to college, I forgot about Nana Birdie’s orchard. I forgot about cider. I lived on ramen, regret, and a sophomore-year relationship with a man named Tyler who played the didgeridoo “semi-professionally.” I won’t get into the whole Tyler situation here (Part 1 of 6 of that saga is linked in my sidebar), but I will say this: Tyler did not believe in seasoning meat. Tyler believed meat should “speak for itself.”
Tyler’s pork chops did not speak. They screamed. Silently. Into the void.
Coming Home
It wasn’t until years later, after I had married my wonderful husband Brent (hi babe! 👋), moved to the suburbs, and adopted three rescue goats named Parsley, Sage, and Kevin, that I found my way back to the kitchen. And it happened, as all great things happen, by accident.
It was a Wednesday. It was raining. Kevin had eaten a garden hose. I was standing in front of my open refrigerator in the way that you do, hoping that dinner would simply occur, and there, on the second shelf, glowing like a beacon, was a jug of apple cider.
And behind it? Four pork chops.
I heard Nana Birdie’s voice. “Patience.”
I did not have patience. I had 40 minutes and a toddler who had discovered how to open the pantry. But I had her spirit. And that, friends, is where this recipe was born.
Why You’ll LOVE These Pork Chops
- They’re EASY! (Pork chops are pork chops.)
- They’re COZY! (They are warm, because you cook them.)
- They’re FAMILY-FRIENDLY! (My kids refused to eat them but they looked at them, which is growth.)
- They’re GLAZED! Like a donut, but for dinner, and not a donut.
- They taste like AUTUMN! Specifically, the third week of autumn, around 4:47 PM, when the light hits the kitchen just right.
What IS a Pork Chop?
Great question that nobody asked! A pork chop is a cut of meat that comes from a pig. Pigs are animals. They live on farms. Farms are places where things grow. Things that grow include apples, which, as we discussed, are very important to my grandmother. See how it all connects? Food is really just a big circle. Like a glazed pork chop. Which is not a circle.
The word “chop” comes from the Old English word “choppe,” which I made up just now, but I’m confident about it.
Ingredient Notes (Please Read Before Commenting)
Pork chops: I like mine about an inch thick. Brent likes his “however they come.” Brent is wrong, but I love him.
Apple cider: NOT apple cider vinegar. I cannot stress this enough. Last year a reader named Diane used a full cup of apple cider vinegar and left me a one-star review that just said “MY HOUSE.” Diane, I’m so sorry. But also, Diane.
Dijon mustard: Adds tang! If you don’t have Dijon, you can use yellow mustard, though Nana Birdie would roll over in her grave (she’s alive, she just sleeps in a lot).
Honey: I use local honey from my neighbor Phil’s backyard hives. Phil is a fascinating man who has been stung 900 times and no longer feels emotions. You can use any honey.
Brussels sprouts: Look, I know. Brussels sprouts had a rough childhood. We all did. Give them a chance. Roast them. Love them. They’re just tiny cabbages who want to be seen.
Substitutions (Readers ALWAYS Ask!)
Can I make this without pork? Then it’s just apple-cider glaze on a plate. Which, honestly? Valid.
Can I use chicken? Sure! Then it’s a different recipe that I haven’t written. Check back in 2029.
Can I make this vegan? Absolutely! Replace the pork with tofu, the butter with vegan butter, the honey with maple syrup, and the chicken stock (there is no chicken stock) with vegetable stock. Then it’s a totally different dish, and I will not be taking questions.
Can I make this in an air fryer? Everything can be made in an air fryer if you believe hard enough.
Can I skip the brussels sprouts? You can, but they’ll know.
A Quick Word From Our Sponsor
Step-by-Step Photos
Okay, Almost to the Recipe!
Before we get there, I just want to say: thank you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for scrolling. Thank you for scrolling some more. Thank you for scrolling past the part about Tyler. Cooking isn’t just about food. It’s about memory. It’s about family. It’s about standing on a milk crate next to a woman who named a tree “The Disappointment” and meant it lovingly.
Nana Birdie, if you’re reading this (she isn’t; she thinks the internet is “a fad”), this one’s for you.
🍎 The Actual Recipe
- Serves
- 4 (or 2 adults and a toddler who will eat three bites of rice and one brussels sprout leaf)
- Prep time
- 10 minutes
- Cook time
- 30 minutes
- Emotional prep
- 12 years
- Total time
- However long it took you to scroll here
Ingredients
Instructions
- Preheat the oven to 425°F. Pat the chops dry and season with most of the salt and the pepper. Take a moment. Breathe. Think of an orchard.
- Rinse the rice, bring to a boil with the water and a pinch of salt, cover, and cook on low 15 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave it covered. Don’t peek. Nana Birdie would know.
- Toss the brussels sprouts with 2 Tbsp oil and the rest of the salt. Roast cut-side down 20–25 minutes until browned. Tell them they’re doing great.
- Heat the remaining oil in a large skillet over medium-high. Sear the chops about 4 minutes per side, to 140°F. Move to a plate. Take a photo. Take eight more.
- Lower the heat to medium. Add garlic for 30 seconds, pour in the cider, and scrape up the browned bits. Whisk in the Dijon and honey and simmer about 6 minutes until syrupy. The kitchen will smell like my childhood. You’re welcome.
- Swirl in the butter, return the chops, and spoon glaze over them for a minute, until 145°F. Rest 3 minutes. Serve. Cry a little, if you need to.
Nutrition
Calories: yes
Love: 100% DV
Karen M. ★★★★★
Haven’t made this yet but it looks delicious! Five stars!
Diane R. ★☆☆☆☆
MY HOUSE
GrillDad_1974 ★★★☆☆
I substituted the pork chops for ground turkey, the cider for Diet Sprite, and skipped the glaze. It was not good. Three stars.
Tyler ★★☆☆☆
meat should speak for itself
Brent ★★★★★
So proud of you babe!!! Also, where are my keys
Nana Birdie ★★★★★
HOW DO I TURN THIS OFF
Kevin ★★★★★
maaaaaa