Union Street Bakery (9781101619292)

by Taylor, Mary Ellen

  I moved behind the counter and took the phone from her hand. “I don’t suppose he speaks with a French accent, does he?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You just met our new baker.”

  What Came Before

  Alexandria, January 1852

  A man who stuck his neck out was a fool. A wise man kept his head low, worked hard, and never drew the attention of the authorities.

  Shaun McCrae had learned this lesson well in Ireland as a boy when the authorities had hauled his own da off to an English prison. His da had protested rising land rents and had been organizing the other farmers in protest when English soldiers had showed up at their cottage door in the middle of the night. To the sounds of his mother’s screams and his little sister’s cries, the soldiers had taken his father away. He’d returned seven years later, but he was never the same.

  These warnings from the past rumbled as he’d stood in Bruin’s and watched today’s slave auction. Mrs. Randolph had sent big men to fetch the girl from his bakery and the instant she saw them, she’d clung to her mother. When the men had dragged her to a waiting wagon, she’d screamed as if Satan himself had grabbed a hold of her hair. He’d stood by and watched, and even when her pleading gaze had met his, he’d not said or done anything that gave a hint that the scene troubled him deeply.

  He’d gone to Bruin’s and stood in the back, watching as the girl had been auctioned to a New Orleans man, Murdock, known for his exclusive fancy houses. There was no fooling himself as to the girl’s fate. But again he’d done nothing to draw attention. The girl was kept in Bruin’s holding cells for several hours after the auction until Murdock finished his bargaining.

  Shaun parked his wagon on the dock in front of the Diamond, Murdock’s slave ship bound for New Orleans. It was past midnight and the vessel was loaded and ready to leave on the morning tide.

  In the soft glow of lantern light, Shaun caught the gaze of the sailor guarding the ship’s entrance. The bloke, known to him from his own slave trading days, was called Joey One-Thumb because he’d lost his right thumb in a ship’s rigging when he was a lad. Joey had a good bit of muscle, a lacking brain, and he owed Shaun a sizeable bit of money from the previous Saturday night’s poker. Joey’s presence was a sign from the Lord.

  He set the brake on his wagon, tied off the reins, and jumped down. Shoving out a breath, he moved slowly and carefully as if he were a man only about the business of delivering sea biscuits to a ship readying to leave port. He’d done the task a thousand times before and with luck would do it a thousand more times in the future.

  He released the rope holding in the wooden barrels and hefted the first to the ground. He unloaded two more barrels and loaded all sideways onto a hand trolley he kept in the wagon bed for such deliveries.

  With a grunt, he tipped the load back and pushed it up to the plank. “Good evening, Joey.”

  Joey straightened. “If you’ve come about your money I’ll be paying you when we return from New Orleans. I told you I’d not have it until then.”

  Shaun’s biceps bunched against his shirt as he balanced his weight. He glanced from side to side down the dark, quiet dock. “I’ve a proposition for you, Joey One-Thumb.”

  Joey rubbed his right snubbed thumb along the stubble of his chin. “What is it, Shaun?”

  Grinning, Shaun glanced from side to side and swallowed the knot in his throat. “Lend me your keys and give me ten minutes on your ship and I will forget your debt to me.”

  “What say you?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I could land in jail for that!”

  “Aye, and I could for asking it. But two hundred dollars is a nice bit of change to have lost at the poker tables. Would be nice to keep it, don’t you think?”

  The stench of the human cargo belowdecks clung to Joey’s tattered jacket. “Why would you give up that kind of money?”

  “That’s not for you to wonder. Are you interested in my offer?”

  “What do you plan to do on that ship?”

  “Just delivering a bit of biscuits to your captain. I’ve heard he has always favored them.”

  Joey moistened cracked, dried lips like a man half-starved placed in front of prime beef on a spit. “You’ll forgive it all?”

  “Aye, every last bit of the debt. But you must act right now or the deal is off.” Shaun dug a loaf of bread from his pocket and handed it to the man.

  Joey hesitated a moment and then fished a ring of iron keys from his coat pocket. He slipped the keys into Shaun’s rough hands as he took the bread. “Just ten minutes.”

  Shaun nodded. He pushed his burden up the gangplank lit only by a few swaying deck lanterns. The ship under him creaked and swayed as he pushed toward aft section doors. He’d delivered sea biscuits to Diamond before and knew its general layout. The male slaves would be kept in the hole of the ship, chained to the floor, but the females and children were locked away in a cell just belowdecks and across from the captain’s quarters. The captain rarely chained the women and children unless they caused trouble.

  The ring of keys bit into his fingers as he wheeled toward the port that led to the lower levels. Several sailors, dozing against a mast, waved a weary greeting to him. They’d seen delivery people here before so he wasn’t out of place and in the fading light they’d not be able to tell who he was or what he was delivering. Only Joey One-Thumb could say for sure that Shaun McCrae had boarded the ship and his greed would keep him silent.

  He backed his load down a few steps and descended into the lower deck. The stench of the hole of the ship was a deck below but the foul order had permeated the floorboards and rose up to burn his nostrils. He’d arrived in this country with just the clothes on his back and there had been little work for a poor Irishman. With Jenna to feed, he’d taken work on a slave ship. He’d worked three voyages but found his distaste for the trade growing with each nautical mile. He’d quit and found work on the docks. Two years of backbreaking work and his talent for cards had won him a bakery and respectability.

  Thankfully, at this hour the slaves were asleep as well. During the daylight hours, especially when it was so hot or cold, their pitiful moans rose up through the floorboards like specters from hell.

  “And you risk it all now, boy-o.” He lowered the barrels down and unloaded the first, full of biscuits. And then he unloaded the second, empty and hollow, as it had been the day it had arrived from the cooper.

  Fumbling in the dim light with the keys, he moved to the last door on the right, the only door with bars on the door’s single window. He glanced inside and saw several older women huddled by the porthole where cold, fresh air drifted in from the river. One woman held two small sleeping children and a few others stared sightlessly into the dark.

  He pulled in his breath. “I’ve come for Susie. Is she here?”

  The women turned and each frowned their fear and frustration. For a moment, he thought they might rally around the girl and make a scene but in the next instant, one of the women nodded to a silent figure in the corner. She sat on the floor, alone, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head ducked.

  “Susie, you are to come with me now.” He could say no more without creating a fuss. They had but minutes before someone would wonder why he’d lingered too long belowdecks.

  She lifted her head and stared at him. For a moment, she blinked as if she didn’t believe her eyes. He nodded as if to say, Come here, girl.

  Rising, she moved toward him. He could see that her dress was torn and a bruise had darkened her cheek and shoulder. Anger burned hot and quick in his gut and he knew one day he’d collect his own pound of flesh from the man who’d harmed her.

  He fumbled with the keys, found the right one, and opened the door as she rose and moved toward him. Many of the women stared at him, angry and hostile, as if they assumed he was taking the gir
l for a few minutes of pleasure. He tugged her roughly from the room and locked the door.

  When she started to speak, he raised his finger to his lips and bade her to be silent. In a few quick strides they reached the barrels and he pried the top off the empty vessel. He hefted her thin form and set her in the barrel.

  “Not a word to anyone about this. Ever,” he said. “This must be our secret.”

  She glanced up at him, her face so pale and stricken. A bit of his heart broke when he looked into eyes drained of fight and filled with fear. She nodded.

  He capped the barrel and then set it back on the dolly. With a grunt, he put the barrel on the dolly and backed up the stairs with his burden. He pushed across the deck and down the gangplank where he found a nervous Joey glancing from side to side and shifting his gaze.

  Shaun returned the keys to Joey. “I was not here, boy-o.”

  The seaman’s gaze darted from side to side. “They will ask.”

  “Aye, they will and you did not see me.” He paused. “The two hundred dollars is your reward for the help. Two broken legs will be your reward if you talk.”

  Even in the flickering lantern light, he could see the man pale. “I won’t talk.”

  “See that you don’t.” He paused. “And boy-o, when they go looking for anything that might be missing, it fell overboard. You hear me?”

  “Overboard?”

  “You heard a loud splash.”

  “A loud splash.”

  Shaun patted him roughly on the cheek. “There’s a good lad.”

  And without another word, he hefted his barrel into the bed of his truck and drove into the night.

  UNION STREET BAKERY RECIPES

  Sugar Cookies

  Whenever I taste the flavor of this sugar cookie, its buttery softness with the hint of lemon transports me back to that day Renee and I sat on the patio at Union Street Bakery. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face, and I can smell the honeysuckle. I remember feeling happy and content in one moment and then in the next so terrified and alone.

  For many years, I couldn’t bring myself to eat the cookie. Too many memories blended with the buttery white batter. A few Christmases ago, however, I asked Mom for the recipe. She reduced the portion from twenty dozen to two dozen.

  I’ve baked the recipe as my mother taught me in the bakery kitchens, but I’ve yet to eat the cookies I’ve baked. Instead I’d pass the little confections out at the office or give them to neighbors. I enjoyed the look of pleasure on their faces when I presented others with these little wonders. The trick, I tell anyone who will listen, is ingredients that are the purest and highest quality.

  I’m hoping one day to once again sit and eat the cookie and not have any memories attached to it. For now, I am satisfied that they make others happy.

  11/2 cups sugar

  2⁄3 cup butter (Mom uses pure Irish butter)

  2 eggs

  2 tablespoons whole milk

  1 teaspoon lemon extract

  31/4 cups all-purpose flour

  21/2 teaspoons baking powder

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  Preheat oven to 350F.

  Cream together the sugar and butter until fluffy. Add the eggs, milk, and lemon extract. Mix well. Into another bowl sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Slowly incorporate the flour into the butter mixture. Spoon evenly sized dollops of batter onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 12 to 15 minutes, until golden.

  Rachel’s Carrot Cake Cupcakes

  Rachel came up with this recipe when she was in high school. She’d been on a vegetarian kick about that time and had started working vegetables into as many confections as she could. There’d been a lot of recipes that had just been too healthy for our customers. “When the customers come through the front door, they have sin in their hearts,” Dad used to say. “Not vegetables.”

  But this little confection/vegetable hybrid had passed muster and been added to the menu. From day one it had been one of my favorites.

  Rachel insists that the cook always hand-shred the carrots. She concedes it takes a bit longer to shred the carrots by hand but the carrots retain more moisture when they aren’t chopped in a food processor.

  These can be dusted with powdered sugar but that was just never decadent enough for me. This cream cheese icing is the perfect topping.

  Makes 12 cupcakes.

  CUPCAKE BASE

  3 cups shredded carrots

  2 eggs

  1/2 cup sugar

  3/4 cup brown sugar

  3/4 cup vegetable oil

  2 teaspoons vanilla

  2 cups all-purpose flour

  1 teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon cinnamon

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  CREAM CHEESE ICING

  1/2 cup cream cheese

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  2 cups powdered sugar

  1–2 tablespoons milk

  Preheat oven to 350F.

  Combine eggs, sugars, vegetable oil, carrots, and vanilla and mix well. Sift together flour, salt, cinnamon, baking powder, and baking soda. Add to carrot mixture and gently mix, just until combined. Divide batter evenly between muffin cups. Bake at 350 for 20 to 25 minutes until golden, and a tester inserted in middle of cupcake comes out clean. Cool cupcakes completely.

  To make cream cheese icing: Cream all ingredients together until fluffy. Frost cooled cupcakes.

  Hennie’s Freedom Biscuits

  Making biscuits with Mama is a trial. I have no interest in the flour, how it blends with the fat and water, or how long the dough must cook in the oven. But these biscuits, Mama says, are gonna buy our freedom. I don’t see how. I’m starting to fear that the mistress is willing to sell me or Mama to anyone but ourselves. Fact, I think she’d sell us at a loss just to see us go separate ways. Mama doesn’t say much to my words and fears. She just keeps baking.

  3 teacups flour (Mama uses the cup with the pink roses and the chipped handle to measure.)

  1 cup water

  1 pinch salt

  Mix the flour, water, and salt in a large bowl and knead until smooth. Roll out so that the dough is as thick as your index finger (1 inch) and cut into squares the length of your pinky finger (2 inches). With a fork, poke holes in the dough and bake in a gentle oven (250 degrees) for 1 hour. Turn crackers over and bake for another hour. Good for dunking in coffee and soups. Keeps for months.

  Mike’s Chocolate Espresso Torte

  This cake is not a Union Street Bakery classic. It was brought to the bakery when Rachel married Mike Evans, a Paris-trained pastry chef. Rachel will tell anyone who asks that she fell in love with Mike’s cake before she fell in love with him. Its blend of bitter and sweet is fitting for Rachel and Mike’s life together. For almost a year after Mike’s death, she refused to make the cake at all. But in the last couple of months, she has started to make the recipe once in a while.

  CHOCOLATE ESPRESSO TORTE

  3/4 pound butter

  3/4 cup sugar

  3/4 cup strong coffee

  3/4 pound semisweet chocolate chopped up

  6 eggs

  Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

  Melt the butter and chocolate together in a double boiler. Mix the eggs and sugar thoroughly but not to the point that they are frothy. Slowly mix the chocolate/butter mixture into the egg/sugar mixture and add the coffee and stir well. Pour this into a greased 8-inch spring-form pan coated with cooking spray. If you don’t have a springform pan any 8-inch pan will do as long as the sides are 2–3 inches high. Bake the torte at 350 degrees for 15 minutes then turn the oven down to 300 and bake for one hour.

  There is no way to tell if the torte is done by looking at it or sticking a knife into it. Just take it out of the oven after an
hour. It will be high, like a soufflé at first but will sink down in a few minutes. Let it sit until it thoroughly cools and then put it in the refrigerator overnight. Once it is solid take it out of the pan. If using a springform pan this will be simple. If not using a springform pan dip the pan into boiling water for about 15 seconds then dump the torte out onto a plate. This takes a little practice. If the torte breaks, it molds back together like clay.

  Once you have it out of the pan pour the ganache over the top.

  GANACHE

  3/8 pound of butter

  1 cup milk

  1/2 cup cream

  11/8 pound semisweet baking chocolate

  Melt the butter and add the milk and cream. Do this in a double boiler because this mixture scorches easily. Once the liquid is very hot, but not boiling, add it to the chocolate and stir until the chocolate is thoroughly melted. Pour it into a container and let it cool for several minutes before pouring over torte.