My grandfather never liked to admit that he was a cook in the Army during WWII. He was too short to serve in infantry (or any fighting job for that matter), and he was ashamed of that. After he left the Army, he refused to cook with one exception – pork chops. They were his favorite food (aside from my grandmother’s chocolate cake), and he savored them right down to the strip of fat he refused to trim off. Though I probably couldn’t convince Grandpa that my leaner Crunchy Breaded Pork Medallions are better than his buttered and grilled chops, I sure wish he was still around for me to try.