We ate these pork chops at a picnic table in the Adirondacks, watching the sun rapidly descend. It was there one minute, at just the right angle to send us running for our sunglasses, and no more than 10 minutes later, it was hovering behind the tree line, just out of sight.
We each took a pork chop, piled our plates high with the last of the summer squash and some roasted potatoes, and popped the champagne. As we toasted the end of vacation with champagne in mismatched wine glasses, we exclaimed that we’d try to make the trip happen again next autumn.
I don’t have much more to say about the pork chops. They were delicious, with just a touch of sweetness from the cider. But every time I think about them or what story I might tell, I come back to vacation, and you’ve already heard me wax poetic about that plenty.
So, just promise me you’ll consider making these, okay? Before the sweet overlap of grilling season and fresh apple cider season is done. Deal?