Shem Creek (44 page)

Jackson Hole was back in business and the restaurant next door was scheduled to reopen in a few weeks. The constant hammers were driving us all to drink, but I was just as sure that our combined hammers gave migraines to all our other neighboring restaurateurs.

O’Malley was behind the bar serving drinks. The Zone Man had taken over the position of cat herder and this time he had all new cats. Duane and Louise were in their new kitchen cooking up a storm and arguing over sauces just like in the old days. And, my darling sister Mimi was as happy as a clam in her little bakery, which seemed to be doing a brisk business in baked goods and takeout, especially to single men.

I walked through the restaurant, which was jammed to capacity with Valentine’s Day couples. There was a small group waiting outside. Some were reading Mimi’s menus or Gracie’s flyers and others were just talking. I climbed the steps to the sunset deck to have a look around for Brad. He wasn’t there. In fact, it was so chilly that no one was. But old habits die hard and I thought he might have slipped up there for the sunset.

The sky was raging red and cut with jagged edges of gold and purple. It had to be the most outrageous sunset I had ever seen. I could follow the path of the creek and see the exact point where it spilled out into the glistening teal waters of Charleston’s harbor. It was an awesome sight and one that I knew I would never abandon again.

I had become a serious woman since returning to the Lowcountry, one who came to treasure every heartbeat as a priceless gift. I had learned that for me to be alive, I had to have warm sun on my face and salt air in my lungs. Once I had it again, I wondered why I had denied myself something so splendid for so long. Maybe I had forgotten how splendid it was. Yes, and almost forgotten who I was along the way too.

I still mourned the years I had wasted in a soulless existence of merely making ends meet and not celebrating the love of my daughters over something as simple as a bowl of breakfast cereal. I could not regain those years. They were gone, marked off the calendar of my days forever.

But I had another chance at a family and this time with a son. He may have been Loretta’s boy and I knew he would never be mine but, I would love him for her sake as she would have if she had been alive and able. I would love him for my own sake as well. And I had a wonderful man for my girls to admire and from whom they would see and learn what it was to love family.

A second chance, and this time I baptized my future with the waters of Shem Creek, knowing it was a sacred pact. I had been an amateur at living my life and I recognized that it was in the Lowcountry that I found my strength to try again. Really try. Living where you don’t belong can be the saddest mistake you can make. But maybe I had needed the suffering and the loneliness to appreciate being home again.

I was going to relearn every square inch of the islands and rivers and of the city of Charleston herself and become a worthy citizen. I was going to share it with Gracie and Alex, like the long-promised trip to Bull’s Island. As soon as it was a little warmer, we would go—Brad too. I would bring the binoculars he had given me for Christmas and try to name all the birds.

Much like lovers saw themselves in each other’s eyes, we would gather the edges of the Lowcountry into our focus, see ourselves in its landscape and each other and hang on to that too.

I filled my lungs with the air and decided to go in search of Brad. It was Valentine’s Day, after all. I looked down at the water once more and could not help but think of the ideas and plans friends and families shared here along this creek, over frozen drinks or a basket of fried seafood. I hoped the waters worked their magic on them the way they had on me.

I was struck by the fact that what I used to fear most, I now embraced—Lindsey and Gracie becoming women and my ability to give them what they needed to succeed in life. A year ago, I could not see a future for myself beyond endless struggle. And now there were Brad and Alex and so many others. I was surrounded with people who loved us and each other. I was so glad, yes, glad and grateful that I had not settled for less.

THIS section will seem a little peculiar to some, hopefully useful to others and hilarious to my friend Nathalie Dupree of Charleston, South Carolina, who tells me that in my books I write way too much about food not to be a food writer and what is the matter with me anyway? Am I just hungry?

Well, Nathalie, here’s the truth. I am hungry. And I love to cook.

I get a lot of e-mail from folks who tell me they made something I described and by golly, it was pretty good. I hope those folks will try these few recipes and tell me how they worked out. I am also completely emotionally prepared for all my other southern friends who bake and cook to tell me I don’t know diddly squat. Like Gracie would say,
Wha evah!

My sister, Lynn—who is the pound cake queen of the world—was kind enough to give me her secret recipes for pound cake and biscuits, so I don’t claim them to be mine. Besides, I ate so many of her biscuits this year that now I’m counting carbs. Anyway, the important thing is to follow her method.

Maybe someday I will compile a whole cookbook. I would love to do that, but not without the help of my sister and Nathalie, and so this section is dedicated to Nathalie Dupree, a
real
food writer, author of
Comfortable Entertaining: At Home with Ease and Grace,
a monster talent in the kitchen and just a great gal. And, of course to my sister, Lynn Benton Bagnal of Edisto Beach, South Carolina, the finest woman I have ever known.

Like Brad Jackson would say,
Buon Appetito!

THE following recipes for biscuits each serve a different purpose. The first one is a basic biscuit recipe that’s just about no-fail. The second one is more difficult and messier to make but produces a biscuit that melts in your mouth. The last is one to use for parties.

My grandmother, Alveoli Kent Benton, always said that biscuits like to
start out cold and get hot quick
. Therefore, preheat the oven well. Keep your shortening and milk refrigerated and remember this—handle your biscuits as little as possible. If you abuse them they won’t rise, and don’t try to make the batter the night before, because it settles and gets gummy. Always roll gently with a floured pin and cut with a floured cutter.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Sift flour, baking powder and salt together. Cut in shortening. Stir in milk. Lightly flour a large cutting board or countertop. Place dough in center. Knead lightly, 15–20 times. Lightly roll out to ½-inch thickness. Cut with floured metal cutter. Bake 10–12 minutes. Serve hot. Yield: 12–15 biscuits.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. On a floured surface put down 2 cups self-rising flour. Take ⅔ cup vegetable shortening and cut in with fingertips until it looks like BBs. Make a well in the center and add ⅔ cup milk slowly, mixing with floured fingertips until it gets sticky. Then flap the whole mess onto a floured surface, knead it until it’s smooth, roll to ½-inch thickness and cut with a floured cutter, placing them on an ungreased pan. Bake 10–12 minutes. Yield: 12–15 biscuits.

Preheat over to 425 degrees. Combine, roll out and pat dough on a lightly floured surface until ½-inch thick. Cut with small floured cutter and place on a baking sheet. Bake 10–12 minutes. Yield: 12–15 biscuits.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Generously grease and lightly flour a tube pan. Sift flour three times. Cream butter with sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time. Beat only until each disappears. Blend in 1 cup flour followed by ½ cup whipping cream. Repeat with 1 cup flour and ½ cup whipping cream. Add remaining flour. Fold in vanilla.

 

Add batter to pan, level it and drop it flat on the counter to knock out the air bubbles. Place in center of the oven and bake for an hour and fifteen minutes, or until it’s browned on top and
begins to pull away from the sides of the pan
.
¹
Remove from oven. Wait ten minutes and invert on a cake plate. Do not cover until cool to touch.

Stir cornstarch and salt into sugar. In heavy pot or double boiler, add water, lemon juice and egg yolk. Put over high heat and stir in dry ingredients. Cook until you see a bubble or it thickens. Remove from heat, stir in finely grated lemon rind and butter. Cool and pour over cake.

Mix it all in a saucepan and cook over low heat until boiling. Stir occasionally. Boil slowly for 5 minutes or until a drop of icing reaches soft ball stage when added to cold water. Remove from heat and beat until spreading consistency, which will be when it begins to lose its gloss and will coat a spoon. If icing becomes too hard, add a small amount of hot water. Ice sides and then top of cake.