Her friend’s cheeks pinked, but she laughed. “You would not believe what a weird dating world it is out there. Bernie knows!” She described in excruciating detail her foray into online dating. She told one guy she was a vegan, so he took her to a rib joint to try to “change her mind.” Another date told her he was thirty-five and self-employed; his social media profile pic supported his age, though it did look a little dated, like Reagan era. When he showed up at her door it turned out he was sixty-five if he was a day, and retired. “I still went out to dinner with him. He was a nice guy,” she said. “I was tempted to ask him if he had a son. Or a grandson.”
“Poor Heidi!” Bernie said with a hearty laugh.
“Not ‘poor Heidi,’” she said, laughing along. “You know what? It’s still better than being cheated on!” Joel had left town, she was pleased to inform everyone.
Denver sprawled on the hassock in front of the sofa, while everyone took turns petting him. Jaymie glanced over at Bernie, so cute in her baseball-styled T-shirt and jeans, her nails colored bright pink and her nose piercing sporting a pink gem, which she did not or could not wear during work. “Bernie, Jakob wanted me to pass a message along to you from him and Jocie. He wanted to tell you thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Her dark cheeks burned with color on the apples. “Just doing my job, and it was all down to Detective Vestry. She’s the one who put two and two together with the kidnapping report. But I am grateful that I was there and could help.”
“And that means group hug, and good night before we all get mushy!” Valetta said, laughing, as she rose. “C’mon, ladies . . . girl power!”
Twenty-one
AFTER LISTENING TO A FEW ARCHIVED PAST SHOWS of Sid Farrell’s Talking Antiques, Jaymie had talked to the host about her ideas. They decided to do two shows, one on the history of Pyrex and Fire King in the kitchen, and one on vintage cookbooks and how she adapted recipes from them. They were going to be thirty-minute segments, with more to follow if it turned out well. She could become a regular contributor.
She had decided to do the first interview from her kitchen in Queensville, while the second would be from the dining room of the heritage house. Jocie had pleaded to be present at this first one. She had been warned that she must not distract Jaymie, so she sat up on a high stool, her milk chocolate brown eyes wide. Jakob, meanwhile, was doing some yard work at the front of the Queensville house, planting some saplings and cleaning up the mess left by the contractor who was working on the Watson home, which now had a Brock Nibley For Sale sign on the front lawn.
Jaymie had the landline phone on the table in front of her. This was where it had all started, in this kitchen, she thought, looking around at the homely touches she loved so much: the Hoosier cabinet she had bought at auction; the vintage tins of Calumet baking soda, Hills Brothers coffee, and Peter Pan peanut butter; the aged but lovely tools, including old egg beaters and spoons and graters.
And now, across from her in her beloved old kitchen, where Jaymie had learned to cook from her Grandma Leighton, sat Jocie, eyes wide, waiting breathlessly, hands pressed between her knees. “Sweetie, you’re going to be very bored,” Jaymie said. “All you’ll hear is me droning on about Pyrex and Fire King!”
“I don’t care, Mama, I want to stay. I promise I won’t be bored. I’m going to do a report on it for the school newsletter.”
“My little writer,” Jaymie said softly.
She glanced at the clock, her stomach twisting in nervousness. This was silly; it was just talking on the phone! She jumped up, got a glass of water, and sat back down. Sometimes when she had to speak in public she got a very dry mouth. She had all her Pyrex and Fire King in front of her: the Primary Colors bowls, in yellow, green, red and blue; her refrigerator dishes, with their glass lids; a few of the other patterns and colors, along with charts and graphics, in case Sid asked questions. She had some Fire King mugs and bowls with their bright tulip patterns, and the tea/snack set she had received as a wedding shower gift from Petty Welch.
The phone rang, and she jumped. A producer said hello, she identified herself, and he told her to wait; she would hear the show, there would be a commercial break, and then Sid would talk to her. It happened swiftly, and she and Sid spoke about how Pyrex became so collectible, and how there were huge online clubs of collectors, who enthused endlessly about the patterns. Pinterest was full of photos of Pyrex collections. There had been books written about it, and fabric with Pyrex dishes on it, a favorite among collectors, who sewed aprons and even curtains from it. There were fewer fans for Fire King, but they were just as devoted and generally crossed over and collected Pyrex as well.
Then the interview became far more personal. Sid asked her about why she was attracted to Pyrex; she talked about her Grandma Leighton, her father’s mother, who lived in their home for years and taught Jaymie to cook. Pyrex connected her to those memories. As the half hour wound down to a close, he asked her for any last thoughts.
“My editor at the newspaper—I write a column of revamped vintage recipes—said that nostalgia is big, even on social media. I think she’s right, but I don’t think it’s mindless longing for a simpler time.”
“What do you think it is?” Sid asked.
“Well, first, it wasn’t a simpler time, was it? Though folks may think it was, or remember it as simpler. But every generation has its challenges. For many of us these old dishes and recipes represent continuity. My grandmother passed her recipes down to me. I have them in a book, in her handwriting.” She touched the ragged black binder of handwritten recipes and old newspaper clippings. Jaymie glanced over at Jocie and smiled. “And in turn, I’ll pass them down to my daughter, Jocie, who is looking across the table at me right now with such love, it fills my heart. And that’s what these old dishes and recipes are about, not just filling the belly, but filling the heart.”
Jocie jumped in her seat and clapped, then covered her mouth with one chubby hand. Jaymie smiled over at her. Jakob had drifted to the kitchen door, his hands still dirty from planting saplings, and leaned against the doorjamb, watching her with tenderness in his brown-eyed gaze.
“So it’s more than the food,” Sid said gently.
“It’s much more than just the food. And it’s more than pretty dishes, Sid. We’re all looking for home, and security and love. We’ve learned to associate them with memories, some accurate, some reimagined through rose-hued glasses of our past, or an imaginary past. I’ll always remember standing on a stool and mixing cookie dough with my Grandma Leighton, and I know my Jocie will stand on a stool between my husband, Jakob, and me and learn to cook, and she’ll carry those memories with her for a lifetime.”
“And that’s all the time we have today,” Sid said, his joy-filled mellow voice in Jaymie’s ear, but also out there, for all his fans. “Thank you, gentle listeners. We’ll be back with Jaymie in two weeks as she comes to us from the Queensville Historic Manor and talks about recipes, passed down through families or shared among friends. I have a feeling Jocie may be there with her that time, too. Good day, everyone, and may you find your own version of home and security and love—as Jaymie Leighton Müller says—and memories.”
From Jaymie’s Vintage Kitchen
Jakob’s Scrumptious Meat Loaf
by Jaymie Leighton
As followers of my column know, I am recently married. Not to make the ladies jealous, but I hit the jackpot. My new husband was a busy single dad, but he wasn’t about to go the frozen pizza and take-out route to feed his daughter. Instead, Jakob worked on his cooking skills, and he has a few go-to recipes. One is his magical meat loaf, which he cooked for me on our first official date, dinner at his house, which we shared with his (and now my) wonderful daughter, Jocie.
How is this vintage? Well, the first bite was so good, but it strongly reminded me of something from my childhood. So I searched back in my cookbooks and found that this is close to my grandmother’s Italian Surprise Meat Loaf. Instead of the ma
rinara sauce she used canned tomatoes she had mashed to a smooth pulp. Jakob’s is actually better (I think because he wilted the veggies in olive oil, and didn’t put them in raw), but shhh . . . don’t tell my Grandma Leighton!
Jakob’s Scrumptious Meat Loaf
Serves: 6 (8, if you use the full pound of Italian sausage)
Ingredients:
1-1/2 teaspoon olive oil
1 small onion, finely diced
1/2 red pepper, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound extra-lean ground beef
1/2 to 1 pound Italian sausage, casings removed
1 large egg
3/4 cup Italian or plain bread crumbs
1 cup bottled marinara sauce
1 tablespoon dried leaf basil
1 teaspoon dried oregano (or substitute 1 tablespoon of Italian seasoning for the basil and oregano)
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 cup grated mozzarella cheese
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
In olive oil, in frying pan, wilt the onion and red pepper until the onion is translucent, adding the garlic in the last two minutes. LOW heat . . . don’t let the onions brown! Then cool the veggies.
Combine ground beef, sausage, beaten egg, bread crumbs, half the marinara sauce, the cooled vegetables, basil and oregano (or Italian seasoning), salt, pepper and mix well, then add half the grated mozzarella cheese. Mix well.
Pack in a 2.5–3-quart (or liter) deep-sided oven-safe casserole, NOT a 13 X 9 pan, but a casserole with at least 4-inch-deep sides. Slather top with the rest of the marinara sauce, then bake 45–50 minutes.
Remove from oven, sprinkle with remaining mozzarella cheese, return to oven and bake another 10–15 minutes.
Remove from oven and let rest 10 minutes, then cut into squares.
This is so good, but filling. Green beans in garlic and butter pair with it well, or a green salad. To make it stretch to 8 people (which it will if you have used 1 pound of the Italian sausage), add mashed potatoes alongside it.
This is a hearty fall dish, good enough for company!
Books by Victoria Hamilton
Vintage Kitchen Mysteries
A Deadly Grind
Bowled Over
Freezer I’ll Shoot
No Mallets Intended
White Colander Crime
Leave It to Cleaver
No Grater Danger
Merry Muffin Mysteries
Bran New Death
Muffin But Murder
Death of an English Muffin
Much Ado About Muffin
Muffin to Fear
About the Author
Victoria Hamilton is the pseudonym of nationally bestselling romance author Donna Lea Simpson.
She now happily writes about vintage kitchen collecting, muffin baking, and dead bodies in the Vintage Kitchen Mysteries and Merry Muffin Mystery series. Besides writing about murder and mayhem, and blogging at Killer Characters, Victoria collects vintage kitchen wares and old cookbooks, as well as teapots and teacups.
Visit Victoria at: www.victoriahamiltonmysteries.
Table of Contents
Cover
No Grater Danger
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
From Jaymie’s Vintage Kitchen
Books by Victoria Hamilton
About the Author
No Grater Danger Page 23