By Your Sassy Southern Granny with a Dash of Charm and a Whole Lotta Butter

Picture this, Sugar :

You walk into my kitchen and the scent hits you like a hymn on a Sunday morning — rich, savory pork chops sizzlin’ to golden-brown perfection, minglin’ with the warm sweetness of juicy pears, honey, and a whisper of cinnamon. The glaze is glossy, like your favorite patent-leather church shoes, and it hugs every curve of those chops like it was born to do so. There’s a hint of rosemary dancin’ in the air, and tucked in the skillet are toasted pecans, bringing a buttery crunch that’ll make your heart sing. Lawd, I tell ya — it’s like fall waltzed into your mouth and brought a casserole dish to share.

A Recipe with Roots as Deep as Granny’s Rose Bushes

Now this recipe right here? It came from my Granny Verna’s handwritten kitchen notebook — bless her soul — stained with butter splotches and a little lipstick mark where she kissed it shut one Thanksgiving (don’t ask). She used to make this dish every October when the pears got ripe enough to fall into your hands without a ladder or a fuss. Granny believed in the magic of mixing savory pork with something sweet, and honey child, she was never wrong.

Pork Chops with Pears – Step-by-Step Instructions

Now don’t worry if you’ve got a toddler tuggin’ at your apron or a dog barkin’ at a squirrel out back. This here’s easy enough to whip up with one eye on the oven and the other on the front porch.

Ingredients:

• 4 thick-cut bone-in pork chops (go big or go home, baby)
• 2 ripe pears, sliced (firm but not hard — like a good handshake)
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard (the fancy kind with a little sass)
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, chopped (or ½ tsp dried)
• ¼ cup chicken broth
• Salt and pepper to taste
• ¼ cup chopped pecans, toasted

Preheat & Prep:

First things first, darlin’: preheat that oven to 350°F — because as I always say, “No good supper ever came from a cold oven.”
Get everything ready like you’re settin’ out a church potluck table — neat, proud, and full of love.

Sear the Chops:

In a big ol’ skillet (cast iron if you’ve got one — they’ve got more character than half my cousins), heat the olive oil and one tablespoon of butter over medium-high heat.
Pat your pork chops dry, season ‘em generously with salt and pepper, and sear ‘em till they’re golden brown on both sides — about 3–4 minutes per side. We ain’t cooking them through yet, just giving them their glow-up. Remove and set aside.

Make the Sweet Glaze:

Turn the heat to medium and toss the remaining tablespoon of butter in that skillet. Once it melts like your mascara on a hot day, add in the pears. Let them caramelize for about 3–4 minutes.
Now stir in the honey, mustard, cinnamon, rosemary, and chicken broth. Let it bubble like gossip at a beauty parlor.

Bring It All Together:

Nestle those pork chops back in, spoon the saucy goodness over them like you’re tucking in a baby for bed, then sprinkle with those toasty pecans.
Slide the skillet into the oven (oven mitts, sugar!) and bake uncovered for about 15–20 minutes, or until those chops are juicy and cooked through. Don’t let Cousin Jimmy sneak a bite — this glaze’ll tempt even the most well-behaved guests.

Serve & Swoon:

When it’s done, bring the skillet right to the table like a crown jewel. Garnish with a little extra rosemary if you’re feelin’ fancy.
Serve with creamy mashed potatoes, buttery cornbread, or just a fork and a smile.

Picture This:

Imagine a cast-iron skillet resting atop a vintage wire rack, a soft fall patterned cloth peeking out underneath like it’s dressed for a kitchen hayride. The pork chops gleam under the amber glow of an overhead light, their browned crusts tucked beneath glistening pear slices. Toasted pecans are scattered like treasure, catching the light just right. Steam curls from the dish, calling everyone in from the porch. The whole scene says, “Happy Fall Y’all!”

Now go on and pin this recipe to your “Sunday Suppers to Die For” board, sugar. And remember — life’s too short for dry pork chops or store-bought pie crusts.

Love and butter,
Granny B. 💋