CHAMP CHOPS

OK, Motherscratchers. I have one thing to say: There's no beating my chops. A short brine and then it's into heavily seasoned flour and to the pan of drippings. I've been trying to determine what seals the deal here. Is it the spice mixture? Probably the Colmans... Or is it the piquant cayenne? The brine is a sure thing. It's consistently fantastic. Could it be the lipid I choose to fry in? The drippings?

I'm guessing it's the combination of all three: The trifecta. Brining, seasoning, frying. It's all part and parcel to what a great pork chop consists in. If you've not brined a thick-cut chop, dredged it in flour seasoned with ludicrous amounts of salt, pepper, cayenne, and colman's mustard powder, and then fried it golden brown in drippings, you haven't lived. Today could be the first day of the rest of your life.

There's the question of accompaniment. Beer is always necessary. Maybe a bowl of salsa verde. But there needs to be something on the plate to keep the pork company. I'm finding celeriac always has the umphf I'm looking for. Once cut into matchsticks and tossed in lemon juice, mayonnaise, and strong mustard, it's ready for the plate.

Where's the ribbon? The hardware? A band of French ladies with the yellow jersey ready to slip its fitted contours over this sweating, steaming hunk of pig? This chop, friends, is the champ.