This is not barbecue. However, I'm going to use that word for the sake of being understood, all the while hoping the folks back home don't come chasing me, again, with pitchforks and torches.
We lucked into some boneless pork chops at Food Lion today. Three packs. I cooked two packs, cut up the chops, froze one set, and stashed the other away for sandwiches over the next week. The left the third pack.
Oh what to do.
So before the houseboy can remember to wash the pan, stir all the left over stuff together. Or not.
Now, add some rices.
I sprinkled on some salt, but I doubt you can tell it, probably because I added the salt after taking the picture. That's just the kind of guy I am.
Now, add that third pack of pork chops. I do love a sale.
I splashed on some olive oil for good measure. Yes, it's who I am; it's what I do.
That olive oil can be hard to see sometimes. It's effect on my blood chemistry is equally hard to discern, but that's another matter, and I still have a few gallons of the mess in the cabinet.
Then I slathered on what Kraft calls original barbecue sauce. It's good, but I'll tell you right now that this is in no measure barbecue sauce. However, I would rather not start Armageddon this evening.
On goes the lid.
I do love iron cookware. This thing goes in the over at 450F for a couple of hours. You'll know it's done by the smell. If your nose is stuffed, and you can't, your ears will let you know when the smoke alarm goes off. Please turn off the stove as you evacuate the building. Do not take the elevators.
And finally it's done.
I'll leave the lid off for a while to let it cool while the rices continue to soak up the liquid they need. This mess won't last long.