Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (24 page)

I
plunked the two Instant Speedo Econo Pregometer (‘Like 2 kits in 1!’) kits down
on the counter.  Evelyn picked one up and scanned it according to the part-time
manager’s smiling encouragement.  No beep.  She scanned it again.  It didn’t
scan.  Then, our boy, Hal, instructed Evelyn about key entering the barcode
numbers manually, yada, yada, yada.  Which of course came up boopkas.  That was
when the overly helpful trainer instructed Evelyn to request a price check
using the loudspeaker system.

It
was when Evelyn’s clear, Breakfast Wars announcer voice rang out, “Price check
in Pharmaceuticals for the Instant Speedo Econo Pregometer pregnancy test kit,”
that she registered that I was trying to purchase not one but two pregnancy
test kits (or four, depending if the marketing statements of the Instant Speedo
Econo Pregometer were truthful.)

 Evelyn
looked at me and gaped open-mouthed.  Then Hal looked behind me and asked, “Can
I help you gentlemen?”  Which was when I looked behind me and saw my motley
crew.

“We’re
with her,” Norman said.

Bauser
nodded.  Jim wagged.

Evelyn’s
eyebrows flew upside her forehead so high they pushed her wig back.  I did the
only thing I could do in a situation like this:  I stared back blankly.  Norman coughed.  I shot him the Look.  He looked down at his shoes.

Bauser
cut the silence by interjecting, “We’re not sure,” and indicating the pregnancy
test kits.  I mentally slapped him in the forehead.  Too late.  Evelyn looked
from me to Bauser then Norman and landed her gaze on Jim.  Jim jumped up, put
both paws up on the counter, schlurped Evelyn and fell backward.

$34.72
later we had the two – or four - pregnancy test kits in our clutches.  My
clutches, that is.  Oddly, Bauser and Norman didn’t ask me about them. Which I
wasn’t sure whether to be thankful about or not; they weren’t asking. But then,
I wasn’t the potentially pregnant one. Sigh.

We
got into the car.

“Where
to now?” Bauser asked.

I
gulped.  I figured he wasn’t going to like this.  “Umm… I need a few more,
err… test kits,” I muttered.

“THAT’S
COMPLETELY UNDERSTANDABLE!” Norman shouted from the front, since I’d opted for
the back with Jim, hoping for fewer questions as well as less Bauser/Norman
contact.

“Sure! 
Your first pregnancy!  You want to be sure before you start nailing the guy for
a paternity suit!” Norman said, nodding.  Ugh.

“How
many tests were you thinking of?” Bauser asked.  My head swam.  I really wanted
to explain the Ethel thing but also really didn’t want to rat on my maybe
preggo sister.

I
sighed and answered, “A dozen or so, I guess.”

“I
know just the place!” Bauser shouted triumphantly.  I wondered briefly how he
knew this, then sidelined the thought. Why Bauser had this kind of information
was not something I wanted to know.

A
few minutes later, we were on Fruitville Pike and pulling into the Wagon Wheel Shopping Center.  We shoved ourselves – collectively and individually – out
of the car.  Bauser started walking into the Bag o’ Bucks Store.  Norman and
Jim and I followed.  A store clerk shouted at Jim in Spanish, and pointed
toward the door.  Jim pretended to herd me like a blind person and knocked me
into a display of sunglasses.  I put a pair on and made like Stevie Wonder.

Jim
led us up to the counter and POP displays where, what to my wandering ‘blind’
eyes should appear, several hundred preggo kits for $1, my dear.  I put $12
down and picked up 12 generic pregnancy tests.

At
least Ethel would be relieved.  Especially after she peed 16 times on 16
different kits.

CHAPTER 8

(Wednesday afternoon)

Bauser
pulled up
Mt. Driveway.  We all got out and were greeted at the screen door by oil scented wafts and
sizzling.  I pulled on the door handle.  It was locked.  I shook my head and
rang the bell to be let into my own home.

Vito
greeted me holding an in-use Swiffer one hand, and my cordless phone in the
other, while pressing one foot against Hansel to keep him from escaping. 
Hansel gnawed at the tassel of Vito’s loafer and growled in response.

“Sure,
sure, sure. I gotcha, Mrs. K.,” Vito said, then hung up and opened the door for
me.  “Hey, Toots, I didn’t expect to see yous so soon. I was just cleaning up a
little,” he said, blushing and coddling the Swiffer.

Bauser
and Jim sniffed.  “Wow, you cook for Mina, too?” Bauser asked.   Vito clearly
looked pleased, and I just didn’t have the heart.  I was realizing that cooking
in some circles might be an indiscriminate term.  I guess some folks figure if
they ate what used to be food, and survived, it was cooking.

“Only
just lunches.  On account of Mina’s so busy and all. And it gives me some practice,”
Vito answered.

Bauser
and Jim looked at me with accusing eyes.  “Geez, do you live the life, or
what?  I’d kill to have someone clean and cook for me,” Bauser said.  Jim
sighed in agreement.

“Careful,
kids,” Vito warned.  “I used to know some peoples what did.”

“Hey,
are these pot stickers?” Norman asked.  Apparently the scent of Vito’s cooking
and a tummy full of Krumpthy Marys carried Norman into the kitchen ahead of
us.  Well, at least we were spared seed hulls and fluff since Marie lived
upstairs now.

“Are
you kidding?  These are homemade pierogies!”  Vito ambled down the hall toward
the kitchen with Hansel, Jim and Bauser trotting along behind him.

I
wasn’t so sure about Vito and his pierogies, especially after the Johnny
Mazerotti’s a la Vito Spaghetti.  Also, I remembered eating store-bought
pierogies from the frozen food section was a lot like eating mashed-potato
stuffed raviolis.   Except more revolting.

“But
these don’t look like pierogies.  They look like pot stickers.  Their skin is
so delicate,” Norman said, peering over the sizzling pan.

Vito
rested his trusty Swiffer, picked up a spatula and inspected his creations. 
“That’s what real homemade pierogies look like,” he explained.  “The dough
takes forever.  All the kneading, and the rolling.  It’s really an art.”

“Wow,
you did all that just this morning?” Bauser asked.

Vito
shrugged. “Not really.  I’m not exactly a dough person.  And I didn’t have the
time.  So I stopped by the Chinese grocery store for dumpling wrapper dough. 
They’re the right kind of thin, and dough is dough.”

“Oh.
So that explains why they look like pot stickers,” Norman nodded.

“What
are they stuffed with?” Bauser asked, leaning over the pan and inhaling.

I
leaned against the door jamb and wish I’d had the Krumpthfs at Bauser’s when
I’d had the chance.  And I also started to wonder when anyone would notice I
had four large plastic grocery bags stuffed with pregnancy test kits.  But
Vito’s culinary instruction was just too weird not to pay attention to it.

“Traditionally,
pierogies are stuffed with little morsels of leftovers,” Vito explained. 
“Sliced mushrooms, maybe mashed potato and cheese, or sauerkraut.  The idea is
like mini-casseroles made from leftovers.”

Leftovers. 
Huh. That would assume one ate, and cooked, food at home.  And didn’t eat all
of it.  Or let it grow fuzz.  Go figure.

“I
like to put my own spin on things,” Vito continued to his attentive pupils –
all two-legged, three-legged and four-legged varieties.  “But I also feel
sensitive about keeping with tradition,” he added.  Bauser and Norman nodded. 
“So I use non-traditional leftovers, in the leftover tradition, of course. I
made use of our party leftovers from the other night:  pizza, olives,
pepperoni, cheeses and relish.”

“Relish?”
I asked.  I knew I shouldn’t but I had to.  I didn’t remember relish from the
Mediterranean feast.

“You
had it in the fridge,” Vito answered.

My
relish.  My fridge.  Let’s see… I bought the house about a year ago.  I think
that’s when I remembered buying relish.

Bauser
and Norman did all but sit pretty and wag their tails for their share of the
putrid pierogies.  Speaking of, I hoped that it wasn’t Vito’s pierogies that
poisoned his sainted Marie.  I suddenly felt like lying down next to Ethel. 
“And I even made some dessert pierogies,” he said brightly.

“Dessert
pierogies?” I asked.  I couldn’t help it. It just fell out of my mouth. Like I
expected the pierogies and their contents soon would.

“Leftover
jelly doughnut fillings!” Vito beamed.

Bauser
and Norman looked impressed.  And hungry.  Which could only mean that Krumpthfs
has a lot more alcohol content than is published on their label.

“You
wanna try some?”

Jim
barked.  Hansel tried to sit pretty – but his belly was too big and he wobbled
over instead.  “Hey, we got plenty.  I was just fixing some more for Ethel,”
Vito went on.

“More?”
I asked.

“Yeah.
After I dropped you off, I came back here, of course.  Your sister didn’t look
too good. I figured she could use something solid in her tummy.”

I
wondered if a bambino counted.

“She
ate this?” I asked.  Vito and Bauser and Norman snapped a look at me like I’d
coughed up a hair ball on their dinner plates.  “I mean, she was so ill when I
left for work I just figured she wouldn’t want anything else to eat,” I tried. 
Vito relaxed.  Bauser and Norman relaxed more: Vito shuffled some pierogies
onto plates for them.

“Sure.
When your tummy’s empty like that, it can make you feel very nauseated,” Vito
replied sagely.  “So I figured a good, hot nosh was just what she needed.  And
it worked.  She’s up and perky and made your bed with clean sheets, and now
she’s taking a shower,” he said.  “But now Ike’s down with it.  Must be some
kind of 24-hour flu thing.”

“Ike’s
sick?” I asked.

“Well,
he hasn’t actually been sick, but he said he feels like he could.  So I figured
I’d fry him up some pierogies and get his insides on the mend, too.”

I
looked around.  “Where is he?”

“He
went upstairs to lie down with Ethel.  In your room,” Vito said.  Well, that
was just peachy.  How was I going to surreptitiously hand Ethel 16 pregnancy
test kits in front of Ike’s prone body?  I sighed.

“Whatcha
got in the bags? You go shopping?” Vito asked.

“Uh,
yeah,” I said brightly.

“Ohhh,
yeah, right,” Vito added.  “Now I remember.  Your personal shopping.” He winked. 
Then he leaned toward me and whispered, “You need more money?  You have
enough?”

Bauser
and Norman stared open-mouthed.

“Uh,
yeah, thanks.  I’m covered, Vito.”

“Geez,”
Bauser exhaled.  “And he gives you an allowance?”

Norman
said, “Some people have all the
luck.”

I
shook my head and stashed Ethel’s stash in the hall closet.

Back
in the kitchen, Vito, Bauser and Norman standing around and nibbling
pierogies.  Just my luck I’d get a lunchtime kitchen party.  A collar tag
tinkled against a bowl.  I looked down to see Hansel, Gretel and Vinnie gnawing
on pierogies too.  I pursed my lips and hoped that Vinnie’s share wasn’t
stuffed with pepperoni. 

“Here,
Mina, I made a few for you,” Vito said, handing me a plate with three
crescent-shaped pot sticker pierogies.  I sighed.  There was absolutely no
polite way to get out of this now.

I
faked a smile and prayed I hadn’t won the relic relish pierogies.  I cut one in
half with my fork, edging toward the sink.  Maybe I could pretend to slip and
hurl it in there?  Or fake an epileptic fit?  Or just drop it near Hansel? He
had to be good for something. Besides, with his girth he could do with a little
food poisoning.

I
looked down at my plate, and saw a small rivulet of jam ooze out.  Oh.  Okay. 
This must be the jelly donut pierogies.  I nibbled.  Gift wrapped sautéed jelly
donuts wasn’t so bad.

“See? 
Not bad, huh?”  Vito grinned.  “Those ones I like to think are reminiscent of
bite-size mini blintzes.”

I
swallowed.  Nothing happened, so while Vito kept staring at me I figured I
should pretend to keep on going.  At least until he looked away.

Ethel
wandered into the pierogie party. “Good morning!” she sang.

Norman
and Bauser grunted and chewed.

“Hey,
look at you.  You look like you’re on the mend,” Vito said, patting Ethel on
her shoulder.  Ethel smiled back at him.  I furrowed.  I hadn’t really expected
Vito to adopt Ethel, too.

“Yep. 
Completely cured.  You were right, Vito,” Ethel said, helping herself to a
glass and my fridge and pouring some milk.

“Is
that my milk?” I asked. Only because the last time I remembered buying milk was
about when I’d bought the relish.

“You
were out.  And Mrs. Rivera had extra, on account of she was supposed to have
her daughter’s twins visiting her, but they got sick with ear infections,” Vito
explained.

“Mrs.
Rivera?”

“The
end unit up for sale on Daisy Petal Court.   She just settled last week,” he
explained.

I
wondered how Vito got this much information, and simultaneously willed myself
not to ask.  Some things are better kept under wraps.  Like my relish should
have been.

“Anyway,
once I got a little something in my tummy, I felt lots better, just like Vito
said,” Ethel beamed.  In fact, she was positively glowing.  Uh oh.

Vito
blushed.  “Aww gee, don’t mention it,” he said, and went back to sautéing. 
Ethel leaned over to watch.

“I
especially liked the pickle ones,” she said hopefully.

I
pushed the remaining pierogies around on my plate.

“Those
were actually relish,” Vito explained.  “But Mina only had a little.  I used it
up,” he apologized.  I exhaled in relief.  At least my family and friends would
only be a little poisoned.

“Oh,
okay.  They were all good,” Ethel said.

“Thanks.”

“I
was going to bring some up for Ikey.  He doesn’t look so good,” she said.

“Sure,
sure, sure.  Coming right up, Cookie.” Vito stared down at the board at the pot
sticker pierogie dough.  “But I think I’m running out of stuffings.  Hey,
Mina’s the real gourmet around here.  Can you think of anything?” he asked me.

“Toothpaste?”
I suggested.  Ethel scowled and opened a cabinet.  I shrugged.

“Here,
use this, Vito,” she offered happily, presenting Vito with a can of refried
beans.  Huh.  I didn’t remember buying those.  Ever.  Maybe it came with the
house?

“Hey,
that’ll work!  We’ll just add a little processed cheese on top and ole!” Vito
grinned.  Oh boy.  I actually started to feel sorry for Ike.  And my plumbing.

Vito
started opening the fossilized can and began concocting away.

Bauser
stared into my fridge.  “Got any Krumpthfs?” he asked.

“Nope.
Sorry,” I said.

“Bloodies?”
Norman asked.

“Sorry. 
I used the last of my tomato juice trying to wash Flower off of me,” I
apologized.

“Hey,
ya know what would go good with this kind of a brunch?” Vito offered.  I saw
what was coming and silently wished I could put my hands and feet
simultaneously over Bauser, Norman’s and Ethel’s mouths.

“What?”
they asked.

“Hawaiian
Orchids,” Vito said.

We
looked at him blankly.  He shook his head and threw the rest of the Mexican
pierogies into the pan, handed Bauser the spatula and decorated him
ceremoniously by draping the dishtowel over his shoulder.  Bauser nodded at the
responsibility bestowed upon him and stood vigil over the stove.  “I’ll be
right back,” Vito said, and slipped his girth out the door.  For a tubby guy,
he could actually be pretty nimble when he wanted to be.  And invisible.  Well,
at least the Moils had given him some legitimate skills.

After
Vito had gone, Ethel said to me, “Oh, by the way, your boss called you.”

“You
talked to my boss?” I asked.

“No,
I just listened.  He called while I was putting your sheets in the dryer, and
the machine picked up,” she explained.

“Vito
didn’t answer?” I was incredulous.  Vito always answered my phone.  Even when
I’m here.

Ethel
shook her head.  “He went out to pick up some milk for me when I went into the
shower,” she said.  “By the way, I think you’re out of shower gel.” Well, that
was probably true.  I had used up most of my bathroom products and some of my
kitchen products trying to de-skunkify myself the other morning.  “And your
shaver could use a new razor.  And you need shaving gel.  And cream rinse.  And
don’t you use anything besides dandruff shampoo?”  A sharp pinching sensation
started inside my shoulder. I gave Ethel a look to match.  “Oh.  Sorry. I
forgot about pinched nerve thing,” she said.  “Haven’t you seen a doctor about
it?”