Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe (46 page)

“Remember that picture of you in the blue polka-dotted dress, you made down at Loveman’s? I have it framed and sitting on my occasional table in the living room, and when one of my customers saw it, she said, ‘Evelyn, you look exactly like your mother! … Isn’t that something, Mrs. Threadgoode?”

Evelyn told her friend everything she could think of that had happened in the last year, and she didn’t leave until she felt sure in her heart that Mrs. Threadgoode knew she was really okay.

Evelyn was smiling and happy as she walked back to the car; but as she passed Ruth’s grave, she stopped.

Something was there that hadn’t been there before. Sitting on the headstone was a glass jar filled with freshly cut little pink sweetheart roses. Beside the jar was an envelope addressed in thin, scratchy handwriting:

FOR RUTH JAMISON

Surprised, Evelyn picked up the envelope. Inside was an old-fashioned Easter card, with a picture of a little girl holding a basket of multicolored eggs. She opened the card:

FOR A SPECIAL PERSON AS NICE AS YOU
,
WHO’S KIND AND CONSIDERATE IN ALL YOU DO
,
THE FAIREST, THE SQUAREST
,
MOST LOVING AND TRUE
,
THAT ALL ADDS UP TO
WONDERFUL YOU!

And the card was signed:

Evelyn stood with the card in her hand and looked all around the cemetery; but no one was there.

Mrs. Vesta Adcock, an 83-year-old resident of the Rose Terrace Nursing Home, apparently walked off the premises yesterday, after announcing that she needed a breath of fresh air, and has not returned.

When last seen, she was wearing a pink chenille robe with fox furs, royal-blue fuzzy-type slippers, and may have been wearing a red stocking cap and carrying a black beaded purse.

A bus driver remembered someone answering to that description getting on his bus near the home late yesterday and asking for a transfer.

If you have seen anyone fitting that description, you are asked to call Mrs. Virginia Mae Schmitt, director of the nursing home, at 555-7760.

The woman’s son, Mr. Earl Adcock, Jr., of New Orleans, said that his mother may have become disoriented.

Mrs. Vesta Adcock, an 83-year-old woman who had been reported missing from the Rose Terrace Nursing Home four days ago, has been found residing at the Bama Motel in East Lake. Her male companion, Mr. Walter Dunaway, 80, of Birmingham, suffered a mild stroke and was admitted to the university hospital for observation early today.

Mrs. Adcock asked to be returned to the nursing home and was very despondent, because, as she said, “Walter is not the man I thought he was.”

Mr. Dunaway is listed in satisfactory condition.

Bill and Marion Neal and their eight-year-old daughter Patsy had been driving all day when they passed the roadside stand that advertised: FRESH EGGS, HONEY, FRESH FRUIT AND VEGETABLES, FRESH CATFISH, COLD DRINKS.

They were thirsty, so Bill turned around and went back. When they got out, nobody was there; but they saw two old men in overalls sitting under a huge water oak tree, out behind the stand. One of the men got up and started walking toward them.

“Hi there, folks. What can I do for you today?”

When she heard the voice, Marion realized it was not an old man but an old woman with snow-white hair and brown, weatherbeaten skin. “We’d like three Coca-Colas, please.”

Patsy was staring at the jars of honey lined up on the shelf.

While the old woman was opening the three frosty Cokes, Patsy pointed to one of the jars of honey and asked, “What’s in that jar?”

“Why, that’s honeycomb, right out of the hive. Haven’t you ever seen that before?”

Patsy was fascinated. “No ma’am.”

“Where are you folks from?”

Marion said, “Birmingham.”

“Well, I’ll be. I used to live in a little town just on the other side. You’ve probably never heard of it: little place called Whistle Stop.”

Bill said, “Oh sure. Where the railroad yards used to be. They had a barbecue joint out there, as I remember.”

The old woman smiled. “That’s right.”

Bill pointed to her sign. “Didn’t know you got catfish down this far.”

“Sure we do, saltwater cat, but I don’t have any today.”

She looked at the little blond girl to see if she was listening. “Last week I caught one, but it was so big we couldn’t pull it out of the water.”

Patsy said,
“Really?
”

The old woman’s blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes indeed. As a matter of fact, that catfish was so big, we took a picture of it, and the picture alone weighed forty pounds.”

The little girl cocked her head to one side, trying to figure it out. “Are you
sure?
”

“Sure I’m sure. But if you don’t believe me …” She turned around and called up to the old man in the yard, “Hey, Julian! Go in the house and bring me that picture of the catfish we caught last week.”

He called back lazily, “Cain’t do it … it’s too heavy for me to carry. Might hurt my back …”

“See, I told you.”

Bill laughed and Marion paid for the drinks. They were about to go when Patsy pulled at her mother’s dress. “Momma, can we please get a jar of honey?”

“Sweetheart, we’ve got plenty of honey at home.”

“Please, Momma, we don’t have any with honeycomb. Please?”

Marion looked at her for a moment and then gave in. “How much is the honey?”

“The honey? Well, let’s see.” The old woman started counting on her fingers, and then said, “You’re not gonna believe this, but you hit it lucky, because today … it’s absolutely free.”

Patsy’s eyes got wide.
“Really?
”

“That’s right.”

Marion said, “Oh, I feel terrible about not paying you anything. Won’t you let me give you a little something, at least?”

The old woman shook her head. “No, it’s free. You won it, fair and square. You don’t know this, but your little girl, here, just happens to be my one millionth customer this month.”

“I AM?”

“That’s right, my one millionth.”

Marion smiled at the old woman. “Well, if you insist. Patsy, what do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And listen, Patsy, if you ever get anywhere around these parts again, you be sure and look me up, y’hear?”

“Yes ma’am, I will.”

As they pulled out, Bill tooted his horn and the little girl waved goodbye.

The old woman stood on the side of the road and waved back until the car was out of sight.

The end.

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

2 teaspoons salt

¼ teaspoon soda

½ cup Crisco

1 cup buttermilk

Sift dry ingredients together. Add Crisco and blend well until like fine meal. Add buttermilk and mix. Roll out thin and cut into desired size biscuit. Bake in greased pan at 450 degrees until golden brown.

Naughty Bird’s favorite!

SKILLET CORNBREAD

¾ teaspoon baking soda

1½ cups buttermilk

2 cups cornmeal, sifted

1 teaspoon salt

1 egg

1 tablespoon melted bacon fat

Dissolve soda in buttermilk. Mix the cornmeal with salt, egg, and buttermilk. Add hot, melted bacon fat. Pour into greased iron skillet and bake at 375 degrees until done.

So good, it will kill you.

COCONUT CREAM PIE

3 egg yolks

⅓ cup sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

2½ tablespoons cornstarch

1 tablespoon melted butter

2 cups scalded milk

1 cup grated coconut

1 teaspoon vanilla or rum

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

9-inch pie shell, baked

Beat egg yolks. Beat in sugar, salt, cornstarch, and butter gradually. Pour in milk and blend. Cook over boiling water, stirring constantly until thick. Add coconut, and cool. Add flavoring and nutmeg and pour into shell. Cover with meringue and bake 15 to 20 minutes in 300-degree oven.

Yum, yum.

PECAN PIE

9-inch pie shell, unbaked

2 cups pecans, chopped

1 cup sugar, brown or white

1 cup light corn syrup

1 tablespoon flour

1 teaspoon vanilla

¼ teaspoon salt

3 eggs

2 tablespoons butter

Line the pie shell with chopped pecans. Combine the sugar, corn syrup, flour, vanilla, and salt and mix until blended. Beat in the eggs one at a time, mixing well each time. Pour into the nut-lined pie shell, and dot with butter. Bake at 350 degrees until firm—about 1 hour.

Sinful stuff—Stump’s favorite.

SIPSEY’S SOUTHERN-FRIED CHICKEN

1 good-sized fryer

Salt and pepper

Milk

1 ½ cups sifted flour

Cut chicken into serving pieces. Rub well with salt and pepper. Let stand awhile. Then soak in milk about ½ hour. Put flour, a little salt and pepper, and chicken into a bag, and shake well until every piece is coated. Fry in hot, deep fat at 400 degrees, until golden brown. Leave heavy pieces in fat a little longer than the smaller ones.

So long, Mr. Chicken.

CHICKEN AND DUMPLINGS

2 cups white flour

3 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

⅔ cup milk

⅓ cup Crisco oil

1 pot of chicken stew

Mix flour, baking soda, and salt together. Then add milk and oil. Spoon-drop into boiling stew, cook for 15 minutes, turning dumplings often.