By The last week of August. Terrence leaves Sunday. SUNDAY. Six days. I am counting in days now, not weeks, because weeks are too big. Days are small enough to hold. Days are countable. You can put six days in your hand and close your fist around them and know exactly how much time you have left. Six days is a hundred and forty-four hours, which is a lot if you're in line at the DMV and nothing if you're in love.
We're doing the farewell tour. Monday: dinner at the apartment, just us and the kids, Jayden's chicken nuggets and Chloe's pasta and a bottle of wine that Terrence and I shared after bedtime. Tuesday: lunch at the Waffle House on Murfreesboro Pike — my old Waffle House, the one where I worked for years, the one where Denise left the tip. We sat in my old section and I told Terrence the Denise story in the place where it happened and he looked at the booth and said, "This is where it all started." This is where it all started. A Waffle House booth where a stranger changed my life. And now I'm sitting in it with a man who is about to leave, and the leaving doesn't erase the sitting. The leaving doesn't erase anything.
Wednesday: Mama's house. Terrence went to say goodbye to Lorraine. I wasn't there — he went alone, which was right, which was his to do. Mama told me later that he sat at her table and drank her coffee and said, "Thank you for raising her, Ms. Lorraine. She's the best person I know." Mama said she told him, "You come back and visit those babies. You hear me?" He said, "Yes, ma'am." Mama said his eyes were red when he left. She said, "That's a good man, Sarah. A good man who has to go." A good man who has to go. Lorraine Mitchell has a way with epitaphs.
Thursday: nothing. We did nothing. We sat on the couch and watched a movie (something stupid, I don't remember what) and he rubbed my feet and I fell asleep against his shoulder and it was the most ordinary, most perfect, most unrepeatable evening of my life. The ordinary ones hurt the worst to lose. You think you'll miss the grand gestures — the sunflowers, the Bluebird, the brunch menu card. But you miss the couch. You miss the nothing. You miss the feet.
I made a goodbye dinner on Friday. Not for Terrence — for us. For the apartment. For the table that had five places. I made every Earline recipe I know: cornbread, chicken and dumplings, collard greens, fried pork chops, peach cobbler. I cooked for four hours. The kitchen looked like a battlefield and smelled like a church homecoming. Terrence and the kids ate until they couldn't move. Jayden fell asleep at the table, face-down in cobbler. It was disgusting and perfect and I took a photo and I will keep that photo forever — my son, asleep in peaches, in the last week of a season that changed everything.
That Friday night spread — four hours of cooking, every Earline recipe I know — was the most I have ever poured myself into a meal, and it still didn’t feel like enough. The pork was the heart of it, the thing that made the kitchen smell like every good Sunday I’ve ever lived, and this Apple Pork Roast is the version I’ve carried forward since: slower, a little sweeter, the fruit doing that thing fruit does in Southern cooking where it softens everything — the meat, the mood, the moment. If you’re cooking for a table that’s about to be smaller, make this. Make it big. Let it fill the room.
Apple Pork Roast
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 2 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 50 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 bone-in pork shoulder roast (3 to 3 1/2 lbs)
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 3 medium apples (Honeycrisp or Granny Smith), peeled, cored, and sliced
- 1 medium yellow onion, sliced into half-moons
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 cup apple cider (not vinegar)
- 1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
- 2 tablespoons brown sugar
- 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
- 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
Instructions
- Preheat and season. Preheat your oven to 325°F. Pat the pork roast dry with paper towels. Mix the salt, pepper, garlic powder, and smoked paprika together and rub the blend all over the roast on every side.
- Sear the roast. Heat the vegetable oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy oven-safe pot over medium-high heat. Sear the pork roast on all sides until deeply browned, about 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer the roast to a plate and set aside.
- Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the sliced onion to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and beginning to turn golden, about 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more.
- Deglaze and sweeten. Pour in the apple cider and chicken broth, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Stir in the brown sugar, Dijon mustard, and thyme until combined.
- Add the apples and roast. Nestle the apple slices around the onion mixture in the pot. Return the seared pork roast on top, bone side down. The liquid should come up about halfway up the roast — add a splash more broth if needed.
- Braise in the oven. Cover the pot tightly with its lid or foil and transfer to the preheated oven. Roast for 2 hours to 2 hours 30 minutes, until the pork is fork-tender and pulling away from the bone. An internal temperature of 190°F to 200°F means the connective tissue has broken down properly for a pull-tender result.
- Finish the sauce. Remove the roast to a cutting board and tent with foil to rest. Skim any excess fat from the braising liquid. Set the pot over medium heat on the stovetop and simmer the liquid with the softened apples and onions for 8 to 10 minutes until slightly reduced. Swirl in the tablespoon of butter to finish the sauce.
- Serve. Slice or pull the pork and arrange on a platter. Spoon the apple-onion pan sauce generously over the top. Serve alongside cornbread, greens, or whatever else is already on your table.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 410 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 480mg