The pork chop used to be almost as big a steakhouse favorite as the ribeyes, sirloins and filets that gave the restaurants their names. A juicy chop, with that little ring of crispy fat, was a prized delicacy for carnivorous connoisseurs.

Then, a few decades ago, that all changed. Pork producers, seeing their market share dwindling in the face of a newly health-conscious American public, started tinkering with the formula, producing leaner, healthier pork with far less fat than its predecessor. Of course, the price was paid on the palate, with chops getting a reputation as being dry and tasteless and in serious need of flavor assistance in the form of marinades, rubs and sauces.

I'm not for a moment putting down any of those flavor boosters. I use them all frequently when cooking grocery store pork as part of my regular meal rotation. Honestly, it's just about the only way to render that stuff edible.

However, let me open your eyes to a whole new possibility, one that might not have the surgeon general's imprimatur; but one that will reopen your eyes to what made your father or grandfather's eyes gleam at the idea of a thick, juicy chop on a plate. It's called pastured pork, and while it probably shouldn't be on your menu three meals a week, for a special occasion you simply cannot beat it.

Pastured pork is pork the way it was before being tinkered with. It has a bit of fat marbling in the meat, which makes for a far more moist and tender piece of meat. Yes, it has more fat grams per serving than supermarket pork, but if you're looking for something for a special occasion (like Saturday) or a once-in-a-while grillout session, you deserve this stuff. In the rush to make everything in our world healthier, which I by and large support, we've lost the essence of some of our old-time culinary icons. Pastured pork is your chance to reclaim one of them.

I discovered pastured pork several years ago, when I came across some at Central Market in Houston. When I moved to North Carolina, I assumed that, being in the world capital of pork barbecue, I'd find it readily available. I was correct. It didn't take long for me to find Spring House Meats, purveyors of fine pastured pork, as well as outstanding grass-fed beef and other nifty edibles. Thanks to Jamie and Amy Ager, my chest freezer is well stocked with enough meat to last out the winter.

Last weekend, I was in the mood to grill and pulled some T-bone chops out of the freezer. I started to stick them in my standard pork marinade of Worcestershire sauce, tamari soy, garlic juice and a splash of Chinese dark vinegar, but decided against it. Instead, I dusted them with Penzey's Chicago-Style steak seasoning and grilled them just as I would a ribeye or other good cut of beef.

The results? Outstanding! The flavor was what I imagine my father might have tasted in the '50s, when he was well-known for his abilities with his backyard grill. The steak seasoning mixed with the natural flavors of the meat to produce something that I cheerfully could eat every single day for the rest of my natural life. I won't, of course, but I will seriously look forward to those times that I cook one of those chops.

So, either let the nice folks at Spring House ship some meat to you, or find your local purveyor of pastured pork and taste "the other white meat" the way the gods intended it to be.

Got a question? Comment? Topic you'd like to see covered? Drop me a line, anytime!