by Ann B. Ross
“The babies are down for a little while,” she said, “but I had to tell you what happened last night. We had some excitement!”
“Oh? What happened?”
“Well,” she said as if settling in to tell the tale, “somebody screaming woke us up and J.D. was out of bed in a flash. He ran outside and, lo and behold, it was Lloyd, who’d been scared to death by somebody trying to break into James’s apartment. Can you believe that!”
“My goodness,” I said, sounding properly concerned. “Who was it?” I asked only because it was the normal question to ask, but not wanting an answer.
“Nobody knows! James said he got only one eyeball on it and he thought it was somebody in a Halloween costume, and Lloyd said it looked like a witch to him.”
A witch! I would’ve been insulted if I hadn’t suddenly realized that I was in the clear. Nobody knew I’d been there! Thank you, Lord.
“Ooh,” Hazel Marie said, “I’m still shaking at the thought of somebody sneaking around the house. I mean, I know it’s October but it’s not Halloween yet. J.D. looked everywhere, but he didn’t find anything, but we sure didn’t sleep well after that.”
“I can imagine,” I murmured. “But, Hazel Marie, what was Lloyd doing there? He went to bed here last night.”
“That boy,” she said with a sigh. “I never know whether to be proud of him or be mad at him. He said he got worried about James being up there by himself and decided to run over to check on him. But in the middle of the night? Anyway, he stayed on over here—I started to call and let you know but he said you were sound asleep. But let me tell you this. After we got James up to his apartment last evening, nothing would do but Uncle Vern had to have the downstairs bedroom. So I had to change the sheets and straighten up in there so he could move in. I didn’t have time to clean Lloyd’s room after Uncle Vern left it, so Lloyd ended up on the sofa again. I tell you, it’s like musical beds around here.”
“It certainly sounds it,” I agreed, feeling better and better as I realized I would not be called to account. Except, I mused, I wasn’t overly convinced of Lloyd’s reason for slipping out of the house to make a midnight visit.
In spite of my increasing qualms about continuing with the recipe book and cooking lessons, especially after learning that LuAnne hadn’t followed the rules, I found myself in a tight spot early that afternoon. After stewing half the day over how to redeem myself with Lloyd—in case he’d realized sometime during the day exactly who that witch had been—Corinne Neely, a member of the Lila Mae Harden Sunday school class and a renowned busybody, called. She just knew I’d want to know that Miss Mattie Freeman’s feelings were hurt because I hadn’t asked her to contribute a recipe, especially since I’d gotten recipes from everybody else in town.
I tried to explain to Corinne that I was having second thoughts about the whole project and, besides, I had collected only a few recipes, and they were from nowhere near everybody in town.
“Yes, but,” Corinne said, “Miss Mattie’s eyes tear up every time she thinks of being left out. I knew you’d want to know.”
Well, no, I hadn’t wanted to know, but, sighing, I capitulated and agreed to include Miss Mattie. With Thurlow and now Miss Mattie knocking down my door with recipes in hand, I decided that maybe the thing to do would be to continue with the cookbook idea, but leave off the lessons. Besides, who would want either Miss Mattie with her walker or Thurlow with his dog in their kitchen?
So to that end, I decided to call Miss Mattie as if she were next on my list and make no mention of Corinne Neely’s meddling. Actually, I always telephoned before calling on Miss Mattie. Of course, it’s only a courtesy to phone before visiting anyone, but with Miss Mattie it was a necessity. She took a morning nap and an afternoon nap every day of her life, so if you wanted to see her you had to let her know you were coming by so she’d be up.
Miss Mattie was somewhere in her upper eighties—I don’t know how far up, since the precise number of one’s years is never a matter for discussion. She was a wide woman—not overweight, just one of those women who’d been born wide and stayed that way. Her legs, slightly bowed, were like toothpicks and she used to spend a lot of time adjusting her stockings, which tended to sag and bunch around her ankles. Now she simply let them sag and bunch.
Miss Mattie’s mind was still as clear as a bell most of the time, but her body was giving out on her. She couldn’t get around very well, although the walker she used was a great deal of help to her. Not to anyone else, though, because she couldn’t see well enough to watch where she put the walker’s legs—which, like as not, could be on your foot. And, bless her heart, she had the worst time getting up out of a chair. So whenever she went to a party—she never turned down an invitation—she’d find the most comfortable chair in the house and sit there until it was time to leave. And that was always a sight to see, for she would grasp the arms of the chair and start a rocking motion, back and forth, working up enough momentum to catapult herself out of the chair.
And every Thursday morning that rolled around, Miss Mattie went to Velma’s for her ten o’clock hair appointment. Only the direst necessity could prevail on those of us who knew her schedule to also be driving on Thursday mornings. I think I’ve mentioned that Miss Mattie couldn’t see well, but she could drive. Or rather, she did drive, whether she could see or not. Velma’s Cut ’n’ Curl was only about ten blocks from Miss Mattie’s house, with one left turn to be made on the trip. And one stoplight, which Miss Mattie totally ignored because it had been up for only ten years or so and she wasn’t used to it. But off she’d take at a quarter to ten, and woe be to anyone between her and the beautician’s chair. She could barely see over the steering wheel, so her head was always cocked up, turning neither to the right nor to the left, steering straight for Velma’s.
I made it a policy to stay home on Thursday mornings, but one morning I had to be out and, I know you won’t believe this, but that new sheriff had assigned a patrol car to the intersection where Miss Mattie consistently tooled through the stoplight—red, yellow, or green, it didn’t matter.
At first, I’d thought the police officer was there to give her a ticket, but that wasn’t the case at all. He was there, standing in the middle of the intersection, to wave her safely through, regardless of the color of the light.
I decided, then and there, that my vote would always go to that sheriff, who understood and sympathized with the limitations of age.
Chapter 24
Enough reminiscing, I thought, and gathered myself to call Miss Mattie and have it over with. So I did and, after explaining my purpose as if assuming she knew nothing about it, she was pathetically grateful for being included.
“I thought you’d left me out, Julia,” she said.
“Why, I’ve only just started, and I’d never leave you out. You’re such a good cook that Hazel Marie would have my hide if I didn’t include something from you.”
That pleased her, but not enough to change her daily routine. “Well, you’ve called too late for a visit today,” she said, although it was only a little after two. “I’ll have to read them to you over the phone. It’s about time for my rest, and you know how Dr. Hargrove is about following his orders. Hold on while I get my card file.”
Well, Lord, I thought, let’s don’t let anything interfere with nap time, as I sat tapping my pen, waiting for her to return.
After fumbling and dropping the phone, Miss Mattie finally said, “Here’s one you have to have. Are you ready?”
“Ready and waiting. Go ahead.”
Miss Mattie’s Lemon Dessert
Two 31/4-ounce boxes lemon pudding mix (not instant)
1 large angel food cake (from bakery)
10-ounce package frozen raspberries
1/2 cup sugar
Whipping cream (or Cool Whip)
Make the pudding according to the directions on the box.
Crumble half of the cake into large chunks and place in a 9 × 11-inch Pyrex dish. Pour half of the pudding over the cake. Add another layer of crumbled cake, and top with the rest of the pudding.
Refrigerate for 2 or 3 hours or overnight.
About an hour before serving, pour the raspberries into a bowl and sprinkle the sugar over them to form juice.
Cut the cake into squares, and top with the sweetened raspberries and a spoonful of whipped cream.
Serves 12.
(This was supposed to be a main dish recipe, Hazel Marie, but you know how Miss Mattie is.)
“That sounds so good,” I said, “and easy, too. But, Mattie, I really need a main dish recipe.”
“Hold on—I’m getting to that. But here’s one she has to have—it’s perfect as a Christmas dessert after a large meal.”
Miss Mattie’s Heavenly Hash
8-ounce can pineapple tidbits
1/2 pound miniature marshmallows
1/2 pound pecans, chopped
6-ounce bottle Maraschino cherries (chopped)
1 pint whipping cream
Pour the juice from the pineapple over the marshmallows in a bowl and let stand about 30 minutes. Then add the pineapple tidbits, pecans, and cherries. Mix together. Whip the cream and fold into the fruit mixture. Serve in festive glass bowls or cocktail glasses. Makes a beautiful, light dessert for the holidays.
Serves 12.
(Would you believe that Emma Sue once said that the name of this recipe was sacrilegious? She told Miss Mattie she should call it something like “Yum-Yum Hash” or “Whipped Cream–Cherry–Pecan–Pineapple Goody.” I can’t help but worry about that woman.)
“All right,” I said, “I have it, but I do need a main dish recipe.”
“Just wait a minute,” Miss Mattie said. “Since we’re on Christmas recipes, here’s another one she’ll love.”
Miss Mattie’s Hot Spiced Tea
Make tea, using 2 quarts of water, 6 tea bags, and 2 cups of sugar. Allow to steep.
Meanwhile, in a separate saucepan, simmer 4 sticks of cinnamon and 3 tablespoons of whole cloves in 2 quarts of water. This makes the house smell wonderful.
In a very large container, pour 1 can (23 ounces) of unsweetened pineapple juice. Dilute a 6-ounce can each of frozen limeade, lemonade, and orange juice, according to the directions, and add to the pineapple juice.
Add the tea, then scoop out the cinnamon sticks and cloves from the spice mixture and add that liquid, too, stirring well.
This recipe makes well over 2 gallons, so you should have smaller containers ready after all the ingredients are mixed. Miss Mattie has used well-washed milk cartons as well as various plastic containers. It will freeze well; just thaw and heat the contents of a container in a saucepan.
(Hazel Marie, there are all kinds of recipes for instant spiced tea—some with little red-hot candies in it—that are easy to make. But I can confirm that this recipe is worth the time and trouble—not that I’ve ever made it myself.)
“Mattie,” I said, trying to uncramp my fingers while wondering if her hearing had gone the way of her eyesight, “that sounds awfully involved. Let’s find a simple main dish recipe now.”
“All right—let me look.” I could hear her shuffle through cards, then groan as she bent over to pick up a few that she dropped. “Oh, here’s one. Take it down, Julia.”
Miss Mattie’s Cheese Wafers
2 sticks butter
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups Rice Krispies
1/2 teaspoon salt
Dash red pepper flakes or Tabasco
1/2 pound sharp cheese, grated
Preheat the oven to 375°F. Mix the ingredients together with your hands, pat out into small wafers, and place them on a cookie sheet. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes. Store in an airtight container.
(You can’t have a tea or a coffee without having a tray, preferably silver, of cheese wafers, Hazel Marie.)
By the time I’d written down all of those unasked-for recipes, I was feeling mildly testy. “Mattie, I need at least one main dish recipe. I can’t use any more holiday recipes.”
“Well, Julia, it’s almost Christmas, or haven’t you noticed? Believe me, Hazel Marie will be thrilled to have them. But,” she said, capitulating, “if you insist, try this one. And be sure to put down that’s it’s an old family recipe and nobody else in town has it. I give it only to special people.”
“She’ll appreciate that, Mattie,” I said and poised my pen.
Miss Mattie’s Deviled Crab
Make a white sauce, using:
2 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
11/4 cups milk
1 teaspoon salt
Add to the sauce:
1 pound crabmeat (picked over to remove all shell fragments)
1 teaspoon dry mustard
2 hard-boiled eggs, chopped
1 teaspoon onion juice or grated onion
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
Dash red pepper
Dash paprika
Mix all the ingredients well and put into 6 to 8 individual shells or ramekins. Sprinkle the tops with bread crumbs and dot with butter. Bake in a moderate oven until brown and bubbly, about 20 to 30 minutes.
(Hazel Marie, Lillian says a moderate oven means 350°F. Wonder what Emma Sue thinks about the name of this recipe.)
Frowning at the directions, I recognized the recipe as the same one that Ida Lee had offered. Old family recipe, my foot, I thought, but only said, “Oh my, a white sauce? I’m not sure Hazel Marie can manage that.”
“Of course she can,” Miss Mattie said. “But if she can’t, it won’t hurt her to learn. And if you’re so intent on main dishes, here’s another one.”
Miss Mattie’s Chicken and Rice Casserole
Preheat the oven to 325°F. Salt and pepper 4 to 6 chicken breast halves (no flour) and brown in a skillet with 1 stick of butter or margarine. Remove and place in a casserole.
In the same skillet, sauté 1 small chopped onion, 1 cup of uncooked rice (not minute rice), and 1 clove of minced garlic, until the rice is brown. Spoon this mixture over the chicken breasts.
Then mix together:
103/4-ounce can cream of mushroom soup (undiluted)
2 chicken bouillon cubes, dissolved in 2 cups water
Pour this over the chicken and rice mixture, then add one 4-ounce can of mushrooms, undrained, and cover the dish tightly with foil. Bake for 11/2 hours. If the rice hasn’t absorbed all the liquid, continue baking for another 15 to 20 minutes.
Serves 4 to 6.
(This looks easy enough, Hazel Marie, but it was like pulling teeth to get it out of her.)
“Is that enough for you?” Miss Mattie said. “I have plenty more, but you’ll have to call back. I can’t stay on the phone all afternoon.”
I quickly thanked her, assured her how appreciative Hazel Marie would be, and got off the phone so she could take her nap. When Miss Mattie’s routine is disrupted she can get downright snippy.
Chapter 25
I’d barely hung up when I heard a commotion in the kitchen as Lloyd came in from school. I started to sit and wait for him to come to me, then decided it would be better if Lillian heard what had happened. That way I wouldn’t have to repeat it to her and take the chance that she’d figure it out from the way I told it. She’d hear all about it sooner or later, anyway.
Sure enough, when I got to the kitchen, Lloyd was hanging on the counter, talking away about his frightening experience of the night before.
“I tell you, Miss Lillian, whatever it was, it scared the daylights outta me!” Lloyd was saying. Then he swung around as I entered and started all over at the beginning.
“Miss Julia, you won’t believe what happened at James’s last nigh
t! He’ll tell you. He saw it, too. Just ask him. We both saw it, just rising up out of the dark, right there on the landing! If I’d stepped out one minute earlier, we’d of run into each other right there on the stairs. No telling what would’ve happened then!”
“Oh, my Jesus!” Lillian said, holding her hand over her heart. “What you reckon it was?”
“Well,” Lloyd said with a firm nod of his head, “I think it was a witch. Or maybe a tramp looking for a warm place to sleep. Or maybe somebody who thought Halloween came early this year.” He thought for a minute, then went on. “James didn’t know what to think at first, but after it was gone, he thought it could’ve been an escaped convict. He said he even saw some stripes, but I didn’t. So now he’s gotten leery about staying up there by himself. Except Uncle Vern has his bed, so he’s kinda stuck. I may have to stay with him and sleep on a pallet.”
“Let’s not make too many plans right now,” I said, trying to make light of whatever it was that he’d seen. “It sounds as if you’ve had enough excitement to last you awhile.”
“That’s right,” Lillian agreed, taking a plate of chocolate chip cookies to the table. “We all need a little snack to settle us down. Miss Julia, you want coffee or hot chocolate?”
“Coffee, but I’ll get it.” And I did, bringing a cup to the table for her as well as for myself. Lloyd had hot chocolate.
As we settled around the table, I knew it was time to put the question to Lloyd. I dreaded it, because the more we talked about his harrowing experience, the more likely it was that the truth about the witch would dawn on him. Not wanting to rush things, I stirred cream into my coffee, then opened my mouth to ask the question. Lillian beat me to it.