He took a draw of coffee. “What else is new, Trixie?”
“Max and Clyde are getting the cottages ready for renters. They need to be painted, some calking, and some need new windows, funds permitting. I’m hoping that as soon as college and high school lets out, Aunt Stella’s summer help will return. I need maids.”
I shuddered at the thought of cleaning twelve cottages myself and cooking at the diner at the same time. Even though they were housekeeping cottages and rented by the week or month, there was still a lot to clean when each party left.
“Oh, I have some news. You’ll be interested to hear this,” Ty said.
“Spill. Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“It seems that Antoinette Chloe Brown is divorcing Sal. Sal’s brother has moved in with her, and they went to Hawaii together, and they were seen making out at the Bijou and not watching the James Bond movie.”
“Get out!”
“It’s true. I worked the traffic detail, and they walked out with their lips glued together and their hands on each other’s butt. It must be serious because ACB was wearing jeans under her muumuu.”
I laughed. “And she wore flip-flops?”
“Nope. She had on boots.”
“No way!” I said, remembering the two feet of snow where we tackled Roberta Cummings. “ACB wears flip-flops in any kind of weather. What else can you tell me?”
“She did have bright red hair with a yellow flower behind each ear and huge feather earrings that dangled down her coat.”
“It’s good to know that ACB is still ACB.” I picked up my coffee cup, only to find that it was empty. “I bonded with her during our recent kidnapping and almost death.”
“I almost lost you.” He mumbled this, but I still heard him.
My heart started to beat wildly in my chest. Too much coffee, I thought. I should quit the stuff.
He turned my stool so I would be facing him. “You know, Trixie, you never promised me that you’ll let me handle things from now on.”
“Things?”
“Murders.” He whispered the word, and it sounded creepy.
I shivered. “I hope there are no more murders in little Sandy Harbor.”
“Me, too, but if there are, stay away.”
Nancy walked behind the counter and delivered Ty’s chef salad with a swoop of her hand. She refilled both of our coffee cups, then backed away.
“You got it,” I said when Nancy left.
“Good!”
Hmm. I didn’t promise, but Ty didn’t seem to notice. If something happened, and it concerned my point, I definitely would get involved.
We made small talk through Ty’s spaghetti and meatballs, dessert, and several more cups of coffee.
“I’m going to call it a night,” he said, standing and stretching. Several female diners paused with their forks in the air and just watched him.
“See you tomorrow, Ty.”
“G’night.”
In the mirror behind the counter, I watched him leave; then I turned back to my laptop.
Aunt Stella, I’m back. Speaking of Ty Brisco, he just left the diner. As you know, he’s one of the regulars here, and everyone likes him. He’s a very thorough and professional deputy sheriff, too. I should know, as I’m sure you’ve heard about the murder of Marvin Cogswell.
But I don’t want to talk about that. I’m going to post some links to the local news and some articles on another e-mail if you want to read about it more.
I hope you are having a wonderful time with your BFFs bopping all around the world. You’ve worked hard your whole life and deserve to enjoy every second!
It’s getting late, and it’s almost time for my shift.
I want you to know that I just love owning the diner and cottages and meeting new people, and that I’m doing my best to keep your dream—and Uncle Porky’s dream—alive.
Now it’s my dream, too!
All my love,
Trixie
Family Recipes from the
Silver Bullet Diner
Sandy Harbor, New York
Aunt Irene Gladysz’s Wacky Cake
22⁄3 cups flour
2 cups sugar
2⁄3 cup cocoa
1 tsp. salt
2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. vanilla
2⁄3 cup vegetable oil
2 tsp. vinegar
2 cups water
Put the mixed flour, sugar, cocoa, salt, and baking soda into a 9″ × 13″ ungreased cake pan.
Make three wells in the above dry ingredients.
Into the first well put 2 tsp. vanilla.
Into the second well put 2⁄3 cup vegetable oil.
Into the third well put 2 tsp. vinegar.
Pour two cups of water over everything and mix it up with a fork.
Bake at 350 degrees F for 40 minutes.
Trixie’s Delicious Cream Cheese Frosting
1 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese
1 Tbsp. milk
1 tsp. vanilla
51⁄2 cups sifted confectioners’ (powdered) sugar
Combine softened cream cheese, milk, and vanilla, mixing until well blended.
Gradually add the powdered sugar, mixing well after each addition.
Fills and frosts two 8″ or 9″ cake layers.
Trixie’s Notes:
• You can substitute other kinds of extracts. I like almond extract!
• You could stir in 1⁄4 cup chopped maraschino cherries and a few drops of red food coloring.
• Or how about stirring in 1⁄4 cup crushed peppermint candy and using peppermint extract? Yum!
• This frosting is divine on banana cake!
• Don’t forget to use this frosting on Cindy’s Cinnamon Buns!
Grandma Rose Matyjasik’s Snowball Cookies
(Good at any time of the year, but especially at Christmas!)
2 cups flour
3⁄4 cup butter
1⁄2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. almond extract (or your preferred extract)
1 egg
1 cup chopped nuts
1 cup chocolate chips
Approx. 1 cup confectioners’ (powdered) sugar
Sift together 2 cups flour and 1⁄2 tsp. salt.
In a separate bowl, blend together 3⁄4 cup butter and 1⁄2 cup sugar.
Add 2 tsp. almond extract (or vanilla or peppermint) and one egg to the wet ingredients.
Mix the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients.
Add 1 cup chopped nuts, 1 cup chocolate chips (chocolate mint chips are really good, too, or even peanut butter chips), and stir with a heavy spoon.
Shape into 1″ balls.
Place on cookie sheet.
Bake at 350 degrees F for 15 to 20 minutes.
Cool slightly and roll in confectioners’ sugar (or gently shake in a plastic bag).
This recipe works well when doubled.
Cindy Sherlock’s Easy Cinnamon Buns
5 cups all-purpose flour
1 (18.25 ounce) package yellow cake mix
2 (.25 ounce) packages quick-rise yeast
21⁄2 cups warm water (120 to 130 degrees)
1⁄4 cup butter, melted
1⁄2 cup sugar
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
In a mixing bowl, combine 4 cups flour, dry cake mix, yeast, and warm water until smooth. Add enough remaining flour to form a soft dough. Turn onto a lightly floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease top. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 45 minutes.
Punch dough down. Turn onto a lightly floured surface; divide in half. Roll each portion into a 14″ × 10″ rectangle.
Brush with butter; sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon.
Roll up jelly-roll style, starting with a long side. Cut each roll into 12 slices; place cut side down in two greased 13″ × 9″ × 2″ baking pans.
Cover and let rise until almost doubled, about 20 minutes.
Bake at 400 degrees F for 10 to 15 minutes or until golden brown. Cool for 20 minutes. Frost.
Frost with Trixie’s Cream Cheese Frosting!
Grandma Matyjasik’s Pork and Scalloped Potatoes
(Grandma never measures anything, and it was very difficult documenting her recipe! She says just to “play with this to suit yourself.”)
Broil, grill, or bake several pork shoulder steaks.
Drain off grease and debone when cool.
Wash and peel (or leave the peel on!) several large potatoes.
Slice the potatoes (not too thick, not too thin).
Wash and slice three or so large onions.
Put some of the pork in a large, deep rectangular pan—3″ × 15″ would be good; deeper would be better—like a lasagna pan.
Put the onions and potatoes over the pork.
Then more pork.
Then more potatoes and onions.
Season with salt and pepper or your favorite herbs.
Pour milk or half-and-half over everything until all covered.
Cook uncovered at 350 degrees F until the potatoes are done. It might take an hour or an hour and a half, depending on the pan you use.
Trixie’s Notes:
I divert from just the plain milk/half-and-half. I whisk together milk and (forgive me) a can or two of mushroom soup. If you aren’t a mushroom fan, use cream of celery. Then pour this mixture over everything.
Aunt Helen’s Pot Roast
3 to 5 lbs. chuck roast
11⁄2 tsp. salt
3⁄4 tsp. ground ginger
3 bay leaves
1 cup red wine
1 onion, cut into chunks
1 minced garlic clove
2 Tbsp. oil
1⁄4 tsp. pepper
4 whole cloves
1 cup apple juice
3 apples, cored and quartered
zest and juice of 1 lemon or lime (optional)
Brown roast in oil. Add all remaining ingredients, except apples and onions.
Bring to boiling, reduce heat, cover and simmer about 2 hours.
Add onions and apples. Simmer an additional 11⁄2 hours or until meat is tender.
Remove meat from pan.
Serve over egg noodles or boiled parsleyed potatoes.
Mrs. Stolfus’s Delicious Chocolate Pecan Pie
1 (9″) unbaked pie crust
3 eggs
2⁄3 cup white sugar
1⁄2 tsp. salt
1⁄3 cup butter, melted
1 cup light corn syrup
11⁄2 cups pecan halves, or a little more
11⁄2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Beat eggs, sugar, salt, margarine, and syrup with a hand beater.
Stir in pecans and chocolate chips. Pour mixture into pie shell.
Bake until set, 40 to 50 minutes. Cool.
Read on for a sneak peek at what’s cooking in the next Comfort Food Mystery,
A Second Helping of Murder
Available in April 2014 from Obsidian
My diner was hopping and so was I!
I’d just dropped the larger-than-a-manhole-cover cast-iron frying pan on my foot. It had bounced off my big toe and landed on the floor with a thud. Thank goodness there hadn’t been anything in it yet.
I took a couple of deep breaths and willed myself to calm down. I had a big breakfast (served twenty-four hours a day) order to get ready, with a variety of eggs and an even greater variety of toast.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead with a towel that I kept draped over my shoulder, I took the pan over to the sink and grabbed another that was equally big and heavy and emptied a couple dozen patties of breakfast sausage—handmade by yours truly—into it, along with half a pound of bacon, and set it on the stove.
Then I readied another order and rang the little brass ship’s bell that I bought because it was nautical and sounded better than the school bell that reminded me of Sister Mary’s constant attempts to get our attention in fourth grade.
Chelsea, one of my waitresses, appeared and looked more than exhausted. It had been an extraordinarily busy graveyard shift at the Silver Bullet Diner.
“You rang, Trixie?” Chelsea yawned, walking slowly toward the prep table.
“Hang in there, sweetie. We’re almost done.”
I handed her the plates over the steam table. “One cowboy on a raft, one hound on an island, a large Cobb with Thousand Island, three meat loaf specials with the works, and two kiddie specials.”
I had become very fluent in Dinerese, the special language that diner staff uses to communicate orders. It had taken me a while to get the hang of Dinerese, but I kind of enjoyed it now. Truth be told, I even made up my own Dinerese as I went along, which sometimes stymied my waitresses or got us all laughing.
“Don’t forget the free udder juice that goes with the kiddie specials, Chelsea.”
“The wha—?” She wrinkled her face. “If you’re referring to milk, that’s pretty lame, Trix.”
“I know!”
Chelsea set the western omelet with toast and the franks and beans and everything else on a large serving tray. “I’ve never seen the diner so packed at two o’clock in the morning.”
I eyed the pile of orders wrapped with a rubber band that the day cooks, Juanita Holgado and Cindy Sherlock, had filled on the morning shift. Later, I’d enter the orders on a spreadsheet, somehow looking for a pattern as to what customers liked and what supplies I needed to order.
“It’s been like this all shift.” I plucked a couple of orders from the wheel and studied them. There were a lot of orders for the daily specials—cream of chicken soup, my salsa-infused meat loaf with mashed potatoes and gravy, and for those looking forward to a summer picnic, I offered the Silver Bullet Summer Clambake: a dozen steamed Cherry-stones, an ear of corn, broiled or fried haddock, and salt potatoes. I could do both of those orders at the same time. “I love it when we are busy, though. Time goes by so fast.”
And with the extra business, I can make the next balloon payment to Aunt Stella! I’d bought the diner on an installment plan from my aunt. It had been in our family for years now, and I hadn’t been about to let it go under when Aunt Stella decided to retire.
I’d grown up inside the diner, learning how to cook from Uncle Porky and Aunt Stella. My aunt and uncle didn’t have any children and had always wished to keep the property in the family, so when Aunt Stella wanted to sell, and Deputy Doug wanted me out of our Colonial and out of Philly, I jumped at the chance to buy.
“By the way, Trix, I love your new outfit,” Chelsea said, balancing the tray on the palm of her hand and hoisting it to shoulder level.
I looked down and grinned at my new red jacket and my matching baggy pants covered with a never-ending tomato print. I’d ordered both items online on a chef’s Web site.
“Thanks. I’ve decided that since I’m a chef, I ought to look the part.” I brushed some panko crumbs from my embroidered pocket: Trixie Matkowski, owner, Silver Bullet Diner, Sandy Harbor, New York.
I’d ordered the embroidery in black script. Classy.
Chelsea scooted off with her tray, and I pulled an assortment of plates from the shelf for the next order.
Smiling, I thought about how the diner would soon get even busier since it was almost the official start of the tourist season in Sandy Harbor: Memorial Day. The fishermen arrived even before all the ice melted on Lake Ontario. Soon the sun worshippers would arrive at the state beaches, and so would the recreational boaters and those who had camps.
My heart raced when I realized that in addition to the Silver Bullet Dinner, circa 1952, I was ready to open the doors to my twelve cottages, which dotted the Point, a type of peninsula that jutted out into the lake.
I’d be doubly busy when the cottages opened!
Thank goodness my handymen, Clyde and Max, had slapped a fresh coat of white paint on the cottages and freshened up their shutters and trim in
forest green.
They did the same to my Victorian farmhouse, which I called the Big House, not that it looked like a prison in the least, but because it was way too big for one person.
The Big House was next to the diner. Now every-thing matched. I chuckled, thinking that it looked like the big Victorian gave birth to a litter of little cottages.
I remembered giving Aunt Stella, whose interest in the diner plummeted after Uncle Porky died, a down payment after we’d worked out the numbers on a Silver Bullet place mat. Aunt Stella had handed me a fistful of keys, given me a quick kiss, and headed for a long cruise to Alaska. Then she slid right into retirement in Boca with a gaggle of her friends.
I had always loved cooking, but to own and manage the Silver Bullet and twelve cottages seemed overwhelming at times. However, keeping busy took my mind off my divorce from Deputy Doug and his very fertile trophy bride.
I wondered why I was thinking about ancient history. I liked to believe that I had moved on from Doug. I took back my maiden name and was making a new life for myself in Sandy Harbor, so what was my problem?
I rang the ship’s bell, placing the breakfast orders under the heat lamps. Chelsea needed to hurry, or the eggs would keep cooking. “Order up.”
Wipe off hands on towel; fling towel over shoulder; fill another order. Ring bell. Repeat.
I helped Chelsea stack the plates onto two more trays and met her at the kitchen door to relay the orders to her.
Back at the prep table, as I made four large antipastos, six small house salads, and two Cobbs for what looked like a party of twelve, I mentally ran through a checklist of all the things I had to do to prepare for our busy summer season.
Then it dawned on me that I probably needed to hire more maids, er—housekeeping attendants—to clean the cottages. All of the cottages were designated as “bring your own stuff,” but some customers opted for daily service.
I pulled my ever-faithful notebook from the pocket of my tomato-printed pants and scribbled “Hire more housekeepers. Put an ad in the Sandy Harbor Lure.”
Most of the cottages were rented for the entire season and beyond, with the same families returning year after year. That was just what my family had done. Cottage Number Six had been the Matkowski family’s standard rental.
Do or Diner: A Comfort Food Mystery Page 21