by R. R. Banks
Our family.
I still couldn’t believe how this night had unfolded. When I first started toward Whiskey Hollow with the goal of talking to Rue, I could only hope that she would listen to me. I hoped that maybe she would let me get all the way through everything that I wanted to say to her and then would say that she needed some time to think through it all. I couldn’t bring myself to even begin to wish for anything more than that. And I would have accepted that. After all she had gone through, I would have been willing to have that be the first step, and to continue to pursue her, to do anything that I needed to do to show her that what I had said to her was the absolute truth.
Yet by some miracle she had opened her heart to me. She had not only heard what I had to say to her, but she had taken it within her, found the place inside of her heart that had always belonged to me, and returned it to me fully and completely. I touched a kiss to our daughter’s head and glanced across the room at Rue. She had rested her head back and was sleeping peacefully, a look of contentment unlike any I had ever seen on her face. I had never seen her look more beautiful. I heard a gentle coo from my arms and realized that the baby had fallen asleep as well. As I brought her over to the bed and nestled her into Rue’s arms, it occurred to me that we hadn’t yet given her a name.
The topic was something that had never come up between Rue and me. When we first started discussing the possibility of having a baby Flora and I had batted around ideas, but there had never been anything that had stood out to me, nothing that ever sounded like what I would want to call my daughter. I knew now that was because I was never intended to share a child with Flora so in my heart I didn’t really care what she thought of a name. Now I had an idea in mind, and all I needed to do was convince Rue that it was the right choice for the little one that we shared.
I walked over to the window of the birthing center room and parted the sheer curtains to look out of it at the sunlight that was now starting to come up over the horizon. This was the sun that would shine on the first full day of my daughter’s life. This would be the first sunlight that she ever saw, the sunlight that warmed the first outside air that she would ever breathe. And suddenly I knew that it was the only thing I was seeing through that window that I wanted her to grow up around.
The maternity center around me had been built with such a purpose. It was meant to give Rue a place where she was going to get the very best in care throughout her pregnancy and during delivery, and that would keep her here close to my home and my work so that it was convenient for me to be involved with the process and then to bring my daughter right into her new world. Now, though, I wasn’t seeing the world that I wanted for her. The city below was magnificent. It was filled with opportunity and the sizzling, almost frenetic energy that came from every person who scurried along the streets and filled the buildings doing what they needed to do to get by and reach for their aspirations. It was a place that meant a lot to me and one that had done incredible things in my life, but it wasn’t childhood.
Of course, someday I would introduce our daughter to everything that the city had to offer and help her to find all of the opportunities that could possibly await her there. For now, though, she deserved to be where she wouldn’t be bound by societal rules and class warfare, where going outside to play didn’t mean having the driver bring you to the local park and trying to lose yourself for a time in that tiny patch of nature among the glittering glass towers and concrete sidewalks. As soon as Rue woke up, I was going to tell her that my mind was fully made up. I wasn’t just willing to try to live the kind of life that she did in Whiskey Hollow. I wanted to make that my home. Our home. I could afford to cut down on my work and slow my pace, and I knew of a few projects that could use my attention, starting with getting the plans underway to restore Grammyma’s house and build our own home on the property. After that, I was going to explore the Hollow and get to know the people and the businesses a little better. It was time that I started investing in something other than myself.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dear Clementine,
I can’t believe that you finally have a name. After so long of just thinking of you as “Baby,” it’s strange to have something else to write out. Your father was so excited when he told me his idea for giving you that name, and it immediately just seemed so perfect. I’m guessing that about eighteen years from now when I give you the scrapbook that I’ve been making for you that you will hate how you came to have that name and I will hear all sorts of complaints about it and declarations that I absolutely must let you change it, but for now I love it, so I’m not going to worry about that.
I’m sorry that it’s been so long since I wrote to you. These last few weeks since you were born have been pretty hectic. You coming into the world marked a little bit of a renaissance for Whiskey Hollow. Your papa has been scurrying around helping everybody he can. I’ll be the first to admit it hasn’t been easy for all of them to accept. You’ll learn soon enough that we are proud people here and accustomed to getting everything that we need in life through hard work. Some people see what he’s doing as charity or like he’s trying to buy his way into their good graces, but I’ve been following around behind him doing my very best to convince them that that is not the case. Instead, he just wants to thank the people who mean so much to me and make sure that the home that you know is as prosperous and wonderful as it can be.
I’m not so sure that Whiskey Hollow is going to be the only place that you know. As much as I love it here and as much as your father has settled in, I know that there is so much more out there to discover. I didn’t have the chances that are available to you, and I want you to take all of them. I remember being younger and wondering why anyone would want to stay here when they grew up and had opportunities. It took until I was grown up and left that I realized that not everybody has those opportunities. For some, life is where they are born and that is simply the way it is. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Never be ashamed of where you were born, Clementine. Now, I don’t necessarily mean that you need to share with everybody that your mama went into labor with you in the back of a beaten up, broken down pickup truck. You could probably go ahead and take some creative license with that. What I mean is that I never want you to feel like you are limited. I want you to love Whiskey Hollow for what it is, but also be able to go out and explore all that this world has to offer you. When you do come home, I want it to be because your heart is here, not because you feel obligated to.
Anyway, I was telling you about the ways Papa has been changing things around the Hollow. Well, maybe “changing” isn’t quite the right word for it. That makes it sound like he doesn’t like it here and is trying to make it something that it’s not. That is certainly not the case. Your papa has taken to this place even better than I hoped he ever would. There are times when I wonder if his family has some Hollow in the woodpile. Truth be told, I don’t really think that it would matter if he was trying to change it into something else. I don’t think that there is anything that he could do to make it any different than it is. The Hollow is just as resistant as the people in it and will keep on going no matter what. With the little sprinklings of good cheer that Papa has been spreading around, though, it will just keep on keeping on a little bit easier.
The first thing that he did was buy Bubba Ray Ramirez a food truck and fund supplies for him for goodness knows how long. That way he can bring his food to anyone he can drive to rather than only subjecting the Hollow to it. He says that he’s been watching that food TV channel like a religion recently and that with all of the fusion restaurants popping up everywhere, he’s going to be the next hot thing. And you know what? I believe him. I wouldn’t put anything past the man who can make an entire population of an area believe that little bitty triangles of white bread toast are nachos. Papa also says that he’s been talking to a friend of his in the city who does publishing. He might be able to get Bubba Ray his own cookbook. He and his wife Marge sent me a couple of
recipes to include in here for you. They figure one day you’ll need to be able to cook for yourself and you should get started collecting recipes now. I’ve put them in along with one of Bubba Ray’s delivery menus from the night you were born. Who knows? Maybe one day he’ll be famous, and you’ll be able to show it off. I’ll just leave it up to you whether you actually follow the recipes, though. Just remember what I told your Papa…you’ve got to deconstruct.
Oh, and as for Cletus’s Clementine Moonshine…it turns out it has amazing disinfectant properties. Some samples have been sent off for testing and he might get to start marketing it in the next year or so. He sent me a recipe for that, too.
I’m going to go ahead and go now, Baby. The weather is gorgeous today and Papa and I are bringing you up to the old Crozet orchards to pick some apples. I’ll put pictures in here for you to see.
I love you more than the moon and the sun and all the stars in space.
Mama
Chapter Thirty
Bubba Ray’s Rojo Cuelo Cantina
Mi Casa, Su Casa, Y’all!
Breakfast
Breakfast Nachos – Triangles of white toast topped with scrambled eggs, chorizo, bacon, sausage gravy, and taco cheese with a sprinkling of shredded lettuce
Mexican Omelet – Tri-color peppers and onions, taco seasoned beef, and crunched up taco shells inside a three-egg omelet. Served with a side of refried black-eyed peas and thick-style chips
Steak ‘n Huevos Rancheros – Sunny side up eggs served on chicken fried steak topped with warm salsa
Churreos – Little bitty bits of fried dough with cinnamon flavored milk and a healthy shake of sugar. Not to be confused with the dessert option
Lunch and Supper
Chicken and Waffles Taco – Taco-seasoned fried chicken in a jalapeno-studded waffle shell topped with a chipotle honey drizzle, salsa-slaw, and cilantro sour cream
Country Quesadilla and Warm Creamy Salsa – Carefully balanced blend of crumbly white Mexican, taco, and American singles cheeses in a folded piece of homemade bread, grilled and served with chili pepper tomato salsa blended smooth and topped with sliced avocado
Thick-style Chips and Queso – Hand-flattened homemade biscuits deep fried and served with melted pimento cheese
Green Pepper Relleno – Green pepper stuffed with crumbled meatloaf and mashed potatoes and flash fried. Served with seasoned rice and refried black-eyed peas
Hoppin’ Juan – Refried black-eyed peas over a bed of seasoned rice. Served with hot pepper collards and jalapeno cornbread
County Fair-jitas—Taco seasoned sausage, peppers, and onions served in a cast iron skillet with tortillas, chow chow and pimento queso
South of the Brunswick Stew – Hearty blend of Ro-tel tomatoes and chilies, fiesta corn, and butterbeans in a seasoned broth with shredded chicken topped with cilantro sour cream and avocado
Catch of the Day – Always catfish
Shrimp Cocktail Ole – Battered shrimp and grits with a drizzle of hot sauce, doused in tequila
Cerveza Ceviche – Tiny bits of beer-battered fish and hush puppies all mixed up with peppers, corn, and onions, drizzled with malt vinegar and sitting in beer
Chili in a Cornbread Bowl – Chili. Served in a cornbread bowl
Specialty Beverage
Marge-arita – Named after Bubba Ray’s sweet wife. Marge’s own special blend of top shelf moonshine, tequila, and lemonade. Served in a chilled glass with an orange Kool-Aid powder rim
Desserts
Fran’s Flan – Tapioca pudding with homemade caramel sauce
Choreos – Batter-dipped and deep-fried Oreos rolled in cinnamon sugar and served with chocolate sauce. Golden or chocolate. Not to be confused with the breakfast option
From the Kitchen of Marge Ramirez Bubba Ray
Thick-Style Chips and Queso
Perfect for starting your meal, a munchie in the middle of the afternoon when you’re craving a little something but not quite ready for supper, or just as a nice lunch with a big pitcher of Marge-aritas. Make sure you fry the chips up good or they’ll be too soft for proper dipping in the queso. Melt the queso right before serving or it will get right gummy and you’ll have to spread it out on your chips
Chips
1 ½ cups flour
1 ½ teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 tablespoon sugar
2/3 cup milk
1/3 cup shortening
2 tablespoons butter, chilled
• Preheat your oven to 425 degrees.
• Sift your dry ingredients into a big old mixing bowl. Dump them out and sift them again
• Add your shortening and butter in chunks and cut in until it looks all crumbly
• Make a well in the middle of the mix and add in your milk
• Gently fold the flour mixture into the milk to form your dough
• Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and flour your hands
• Press the dough out into a rectangle and fold in half
• Press down flat again, turn a quarter turn, fold in half and press
• Repeat this for six more folds
• Press out to a large rectangle and cut out your biscuits
• Bake for 9-12 minutes or until golden
• Once cool, slice each biscuit in half
• Flatten your biscuits without crushing them
• Fry until deeper brown but not burned
• Drain on brown paper bags or paper towels
Queso
1 cup grated extra-sharp cheddar
½ cup sharp cheddar
½ cup mild cheddar
4 ounces softened cream cheese
½ cup mayonnaise
¼ teaspoon garlic powder
½ red onion, chopped fine
4 ounces pimentos or roasted red peppers, diced and drained
Salt and pepper
• Put softened cream cheese in a mixing bowl. Make sure it is plenty soft
• Add in grated cheeses a little at a time and mash with a fork to start mixing it in
• Add mayonnaise, garlic powder, and pimentos or roasted red peppers and combine thoroughly
• Taste and add salt and pepper as you please
• If you want it to bite back a little, sprinkle in some ground cayenne or chili powder
• Pour the whole mess into a sauce pot and melt down until gooey right before serving
From the Kitchen of Marge Ramirez
Choreos
(not to be confused with the breakfast item)
If a churro and an Oreo had a baby, this would be it. Golden cookies make it a bit more churro-y. Chocolate cookies have chocolate. Don’t be shy on the cinnamon and sugar at the end, and if you want to serve these up with a big glass of cold milk, we won’t judge you a speck. Sprinkle some cinnamon on it to make it fancy
Batter
1 cup of your favorite pancake mix (I like to make up a batch of my homemade mix and save the extras for breakfast)
2/3 cup milk
1 egg, beaten
1 ½ teaspoons vegetable oil
Golden or chocolate sandwich cookies of your choice
Equal parts cinnamon and sugar mixed together
• Combine the pancake mix, oil, beaten egg, and milk in a mixing bowl until it creates a batter
• Plop a cookie down in there and use a fork to flip it around a bit until it is totally covered
• Lift the cookie up with the fork and wiggle it a little to get the excess off
• Fry in 350-degree oil for about 3 minutes or until golden
• Drain on brown paper bags or paper towels
• While still hot and a little oily, toss around in the cinnamon and sugar
From the Kitchen of Marge Ramirez Bubba Ray
Chili in a Cornbread Bowl
Now I know that most people think that Marge does all of the recipe making around here, but the truth is she might have given me some of the foundation
for some of the dishes, but the menu is all mine. This here chili in a cornbread bowl is my greatest accomplishment if I do say so myself. Some people don’t believe that. Some people believe that it’s my Country Quesadilla and Warm Creamy Salsa that’s my real claim to fame, saying it’s just a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. Can you believe that? Grilled cheese sandwich. Now I ask you. What is a sandwich? I mean, what makes a sandwich a sandwich? Two pieces of bread. TWO pieces of bread. You take one piece of bread, you slap some cheese down on that booger (I was going to say ‘bitch’ but I have been informed that that is no longer an acceptable term and you being a girl and all, I wouldn’t want to offend you), then you put on another piece of bread, griddle it up, and you’ve got yourself a grilled cheese sandwich. That is not what I make. I use just the one piece of bread.
I’d like to add that I make that bread every day single-handedly. Well, I mean with my two hands. I’m not like Sally in the kitchen there who has just the one hand. She can’t really knead bread. That just gets messy. So, I get in there every day and I make big old pieces of flat bread. I put the cheeses and the onions and my secret blend of spices in there, I fold it on up, squish it down real good, and cook it. Now I ask you, does that sound like a sandwich? I rest my case. But anyway, back to the chili and cornbread bowl.
The thing about it is, I didn’t even plan it. Now, don’t you go telling anybody that I told you that. I have a certain standing around here and I don’t want my brilliance to dim in the minds of my admirers. So, we’ll just let them keep on thinking that I came up with this idea out of the clear blue sky and not because I didn’t have any bowls to have my chili in.