Roast Pork with Apricots
Growing up, we would eat dinner at my paternal grandmother's house at least once a month. My grandmother was, as most grandmothers are, a character. Her name was Gertrude. Legend has it that she wanted to be called Trudy, but people called her only Gert. And she was most certainly a Gert, not a Trudy. Further legend has it that she even changed her name from Ruby to Gertrude when she was young because her last name was Stone, and she didn't want to be know as Ruby Stone any longer. Both legends may be apocryphal. The truth may be that she was Gert Stone from the start, but I like the idea of this young woman wanting to reinvent herself. When I knew her, Gert was in her 70s and 80s. She wore the most beautiful shades of red lipstick and had fabulous ceramic chicken dishes loaded with butterscotch candies. She would cook pedestrian pot roasts when we came to visit, and after dinner my brother and I would wash and dry the dishe...