Okay.  I suspect if the sister of mine still reads these things, she would rise up in accusation with the above title, should I have not titled it that. 

At times I feel her presence very distinctly.

But let’s just say we scored the other evening with our supper.  (Or dinner, depending which generation you sprang from.)

I don’t read the news regularly.  I scan the headlines about every day, and if one of two of them look interesting, I’ll read what they have. 

There is a documentary that I have looked at occasionally. 

It’s a food documentary. 

Okay. Okay. OKAY.  Someone needs to read those things.

Anyway, the fellow they used did just that.  He traveled the world, sampled any and every kind of food placed in front of him, and almost always said, “Mmm, that’s good.”

Some of the stuff I’ve seen him eating couldn’t have been good.  I got sick looking at it.

So when I read a deal of his, promoting what he said, “Could possibly be the most delicious thing,” I bookmarked it.

I was pushing the very heavy grocery cart for my wife, trundling down the aisles of food, when I got the hunch that we needed to do this.

But I ran into problems immediately.

Who sells, or where can you find, Chinese rice wine?

Or, pray tell, what is black vinegar?

The soy sauce, sesame oil, and garlic were easily found.

And the boneless pork chops were quite available.

It was after we had left the store that I realized I hadn’t found Panko breadcrumbs, but my good wife thought the store in Montezuma might have them. 

We found some substitutes for the Chinese rice wine and black vinegar, but the final item looked to be a little harder to find.

Five spice powder.

Now I know some of you reading this probably have it on your shelf already, or if not, it’s just a hop and a skip away, due to higher population rates in your area and more diversified population at that.

I Googled Asian grocery stores with very little faith anything would show in Dodge City.  I knew of a couple in Garden City and figured this meal would have to wait until I could get myself over there. 

But surprisingly, one showed, on a street I hadn’t rolled down yet in my 30 plus years of driving that town. 

And I could see why I hadn’t driven down it yet as I started to. 

When I got to what Google proclaimed as Asian grocery, I found myself in front of an old mechanic shop, converted into grocery store.  Red spray paint had been slathered and misted, alternately over the garage door and front part of the building.  Iron bars were securely fastened to the windows and door.  (a bit of a rarity in these parts)

I stepped inside and was nearly pushed back out by the sound concussions of heavy disco music coming from somewhere midsection of the store. 

And just that quick, I was home, back in a little store in India.  The only thing it lacked was incense burning here and there.

I dabbled for quite some time in there, looking at their wares, and almost doing several impulse buys.  Eventually, I found the five-spice powder, and made my way to the cramped, little checkout counter where a young man could hardly make eye contact with me.  But I stayed just a bit after the sale, and his eyes met mine in a friendly glance before I left.  I want to go back to that store soon. 

We stopped in at the store in Montezuma, and sure enough, they had my breadcrumbs.

At this point, I was traveling blind on this meal.  The only thing I was hoping to prove, was whether it was ‘the most delicious thing ever.’

When it comes to working in the kitchen, I don’t do so well.  It generally takes me twice as long as the recipe says to get something done; I can’t get the hang of peeling an onion or a garlic clove, so my good wife was there alongside me, like she promised a while ago now, with helping hands.  If her heart wasn’t in it, she didn’t let it show.

I got the marinade made and the meat pounded, and both put together in a plastic bag and left it set for a couple of hours.

When I came back, the meat had definitely changed color, and had a rather good smell, if not entirely familiar. 

We, (again I needed help) coated the meat with flour first, then egg, then breadcrumbs and fried it.  I cut some of that good homemade loaf bread into slices, toasted and buttered it when it came out. 

It mated nicely with the fried meat, and we sat down to our meal.

And you know what?  It may just have been the most delicious thing ever. 

I suspicion that the big skillet the family gave me for my birthday a while back may house quite a number of those meats in the future, on some nice spring evening when folks tend to get together.

Wanna come over?

Macau-style pork chop sandwich

Makes 4 servings

Ingredients

4 boneless pork rib chops or cutlets (about 6 ounces each)

¼ cup soy sauce

¼ cup Chinese rice wine

¼ cup black vinegar

1 tablespoon sesame oil

4 cloves garlic, peeled and coarsely chopped

1 tablespoon five-spice powder

1 tablespoon dark brown sugar, packed

1 large egg

½ cup all-purpose flour

1½ cups panko bread crumbs

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 cups peanut oil, for frying, plus more as needed

8 slices white sandwich bread

Chili paste, for garnish

Special equipment

Meat mallet or heavy-duty rolling pin

Sheet pan or platter lined with newspaper

Instructions

1. Pound the pork to ¼-inch thickness, using the meat mallet. If using a rolling pin, be sure to wrap the meat in plastic before whacking it (and consider getting yourself a meat mallet).

2. In a small mixing bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, rice wine, vinegar, sesame oil, garlic, five-spice powder and sugar. Place the pork in a zip-seal plastic bag or nonreactive container and pour the marinade mixture over, turning the chops to ensure they are evenly coated with liquid. Seal the bag and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 12 hours.

3. Remove the chops from the marinade and brush off the garlic. Beat the egg in a shallow bowl. In a second shallow bowl, place the flour, and in a third shallow bowl, place the bread crumbs. Season the flour with salt and pepper. You may need to add a tablespoon of water to the beaten egg to loosen its texture so that it adheres evenly to the meat.

4. To a large, heavy-bottom frying pan, add the peanut oil and heat over medium-high. While the oil heats, dredge the chops in the flour, batting off any extra, then in the egg, then in the bread crumbs.

5. Test the oil with a pinch of bread crumbs. If they immediately sizzle, carefully slide the chops into the hot oil, working in batches if necessary to avoid overcrowding the pan and bringing down the temperature of the oil. Cook until golden brown, about 5 minutes per side. Remove the cooked chops from the oil and let drain on the lined sheet pan. Season lightly with salt.

6. Toast the bread until golden brown. Assemble the sandwiches and serve with the chili paste alongside.