The Last Stop Bi-Rite

Sometimes Buck and I just up and decide we are “headed to the Ham”. While impulse is a wonderful thing, so’s eatin, and in Buckin’ham, if you don’t bring it with you, you’re not gonna eat. I always have to tell Buck, “That lemon’s an hour back, so just do without.”

Our spur of the moment trips always mean a stop in Cumberland at Marion’s Bi-Rite for milk, eggs, bread, some local veggies and Marion’s famous home-made, “rite here in tha store”, ‘minna cheese and chicken salad.

Half way to the “Farmacy”, Marion’s is the last store you’ll see unless you want to hit the Food Lion in Dillwyn and the Food Lion is well... just that, a chain store; well equipped, but a chain store non the less. Marion’s is different, it’s got “flavor”. There’s an ice box out front and a soda machine that only takes two quarters and then gives up the coldest Pepsi you ever want to taste. I could have a 12-pack in the cooler, but I would still stop just to pick up Cheetoes and drop those quarters in the machine to hear the cha-clunk as they hit the tender box and the rollin thunder of that cold soda as it slides down the cue.

When you go in the Bi-Rite, the door creaks and an old cow bell clangs loud enough to draw attention and give Marion time to put down the latest edition of People magazine and greet you proper. She knows me now, but not by name, Marian’s not good with names; she calls me, “Miss Outta-towna”, a name she gave me when I had to search for a check the first time I didn’t have enough cash, cause Marion’s doesn’t have a card reader. "Well, lets see, Miss Outta-towna, you need to just put your phone number on this and I guess you're okay.

A country store has seasons; in the fall it's about, apples, pumpkins and huntin'. Its nothin' to pick up some buckshot along with your country butter and fresh-kill sausage, the kind so loaded with red pepper and sage that the grease turns orange and stains the plate. November's about politics and firewood, the woodstove's goin' in the back, you can feel it when you open the door; wood heat and strong opinions.

Come winter, along with bottled milk and hoop cheese; snow shovels, tire chains, and sleds crowd the shelves. Around Christmas, Coca Cola Santa comes out from his “workshop” in the back, cheery despite a little water damage suffered durin' his months of seclusion. If you buy a Christmas tree from the lot out back, you can help yourself to mistletoe and runnin' cedar. Country hams hang like stockins from big hooks along the back behind the meat case. Now that’s the smell of Christmas; smoked ham and fresh cedar.

In spring there's baby chicks in the window, dyed pale green, pink and blue; light bulbs keep’um warm until Easter when they turn up in a basket on the kitchen table and not long after, in a pot on the stove. Harsh I know, but that’s the country, never, fall in love with live stock.

I think summer might be the best “store-season” hands down. Cantaloupes and watermelons, fresh corn and home grown tomatoes cover the raised tables in the back. No fine spray needed to keep things fresh, it comes in that way everyday.

Growin' up, the outside coolers were always filled with ice for whatever might need it; be it fresh fish caught over at Whittles Mill or sodas for the softball game. Cokes were in the squat, red Coke Machine outside, but RC and Pepsi were on ice inside, the opener screwed into the side of the counter next to the cash register for obvious reasons. Tom’s peanuts and crackers were in big ole jars on the counter. Few things taste better than a bottled soda filled to the neck with salted Tom’s peanuts, the trick was to finish it before they started sinkin' to the bottom of the bottle.

I always liked the way the screen door creaked when you opened it, and slammed when you left, there was no sneekin’ in or out of “tha store”

But anyway, I started down this road cause last trip out, as I pulled into the parkin lot beside the Bi-Rite, Buck commented on how empty the lot was and then wondered “out loud” if they were even open.

I’m thinkin to myself, you know this store is open, people gotta eat for God’s sake, and I dismissed that observation as jus plain naïve. I have to admit however that even as I grabbed my shoppin bags and headed up the incline, somethin’ just didn’t feel right. When my hand hit the door, it didn’t budge and then I noticed the soda machine was neither hummin nor sweatin. I squinted the way I do when I don't have my readers and pressed my face against the glass. The isles were empty, no chips, no chicken salad, and no wise crackin' Marion at the register.

I guess I just stood there for a minute while I wrapped my brain around what my eyes were seein’. It’s was kinda like having a friend just up and move out of town without even tellin’ you. It was hard; I felt it in my heart.

As I walked back to the car, Buck pointed to a truck in the back, loadin cold-cases. I went around and asked, “You takin’ those in or out?”

“Store’s closed,” was all he said and then on back to work. I don't know why it hit me so hard, lots of stores are closin these days, but Marion's was the last Bi-Rite, and even though I was an "Outta-towna", it still hurt.

Pat in the Hat

Super Club Myth #17

Disclaimer: Mythological narratives may or may not be based in fact.

All myths, at some stage, are actually believed to be true by the peoples of the societies that used or originated the myth. Pat in the Hat is just one of a series of myths that form the backbone of the Friendly Village.

Pat in the Hat

Did he do it, did he dare?

Cover his face and hide his hair?

Some say “yes”

and some say “no”

But I have pictures that just say so!

New Years Eve of ‘89,

Bottles of champagne and

bottles of wine.

A little Inn and a table round,

Out of the way, so we couldn’t be found.

There were courses of bread, of fish, and meat; all we could do was eat…eat…eat!

Small plates, big plates, platters and all

Supper Club was ready and up for the call.

Lyndon was there to serve us all night,

but we had other plans; another invite.

Off came the Tux and off came the shoes

On came the jeans, the sweaters and crews.

We raced down the alley, quick as we could go

To Bubba’s Backroom where the music won’t slow.

Bubba fried oysters and we had another round

as we sang through the decades

and drummed on the ground.

60’s, 70’s, and 80’s faded

and at the stroke of the clock, we were all elated!

Myra held her arms up high,

“I’m a woman of the 90’s,” she did cry!

Hugs and kisses did abound, but Pat in the Hat; he could not be found.

So, did he do it, did he dare, hide his face and cover his hair?

Nope not then, and nope, not there;

did he ever, a lampshade wear!

But over to the right, sitting on the floor,

Patrick was snoozin’ next to the door.

A hat of foil sat on his head,

Happy New Year, was all that it said.

So, he didn’t do it, he didn’t dare

wear that lampshade on his hair!

A Little Note from Lurlene

To quote the mythologist Joseph Campbell; Mythology is inherently a social construct created by a ethnic or filial group and serves the function of promoting group cohesiveness and maintenance.

Mythology, and its subsequent rites, rituals, festivals, mores, folkways, traditions, stories, songs, narratives and everything else, is created by its culture, perpetuated by its participants and passed down through its generations and families. It is a societal construct that coordinates the sacred/social world of the participants and reminds them of shared ancestry and values while appealing to the imaginations of the future generations.

There are many myths in the Friendly Village, So Mr. Pat, I’m gonna make sure your little nieces and nephews know, you didn’t wear that lampshade. You can thank me later.

I sincerely hope that the Villagers will send me their favorite Village "mythology" so that I can get these stories down; if for no other reason than to fuss over’um on our 80^th birthdays.

Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss!

Joined at the Heart

Anam Cara

When I saw you
When we met
My heart recognized you
As a part of it's own.

And so it is.

Soul friend relationships are characterized by mutuality: a profound respect for one another's wisdom, despite age or gender difference, and the awareness that the other person is a source of many blessings, and so it is in the Friendly Village.

To quote the philosopher, John O'Donahue,

"You are joined in an ancient and eternal union with humanity that cuts across all barriers of time, convention, philosophy and definition. When you are blessed with an anam cara, you have arrived at that most sacred place: home."

Makin' Woopee (Pies)

Anyone who knows me, knows how much I loath Valentines Day. I mean it is just a recipe for doom. It's a sticky pink and red mess with the potential to make even the best relationship a little prickly. Twenty-four hours of tickin' bomb!

Its like folks use VD as a measurin' stick for love and carin'. If you got a hundred bucks, do not give me somethin that is gonna show up on my hips later or die in a day. I hate waste and nothin is more wasteful than overpriced dinners, flop-head roses and the ultimate curse; heart-shaped jewelry.

Honest, I am not a bitter woman, I enjoyed seein' the five different arrangements from five different florist sittin on Lushious's front porch that one year it snowed. I think every neighbor got one of those arrangements; for a few hours that day. That girl could give lessons in jugglin'.

Not me, I think that anything bad that has ever happened in my love life occurred on or around February 14th. I honestly shudder to think back. Last night I woke up in a cold sweat havin' a bad dream about one of my worst Valentine's Day mis-adventures; it haunts me still. Just let me say here that I am so sorry for any heartache that I may have ever caused. If it makes anyone feel any better, Miss Universe always levels the playin' field, she is a firm believer in what goes around, comes around.

To quote the poet Kenny Rogers, "you gotta know when to hold'um, fold'um and when to back away." But just don't do it on Valentines Day! Instead, whip up a batch of:

Red Velvet Whoopee Pies
Ingredients:
For the cookies:
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tbsp. cocoa powder
½ tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. salt
8 tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 large egg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
½ cup buttermilk, at room temperature
1 oz. red food coloring

For the frosting:
8 oz. cream cheese
5 tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 tsp. vanilla extract
2½ cups confectioners' sugar, sifted

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 375˚ F. Using a heart template cut out from card stock, trace evenly spaced hearts onto pieces of parchment paper sized to fit two cookie sheets. Place the parchment on the cookie sheets so that the side you have drawn on is facing down; set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream together the butter and brown sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Beat in the egg until incorporated, scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary. Blend in the vanilla. With the mixer on low speed, beat in about a third of the dry ingredients, followed by half of the buttermilk, beating each addition just until incorporated. Repeat so that all the buttermilk has been added and then mix in the final third of dry ingredients. Do not overbeat. Blend in the food coloring.

Transfer the batter to a pastry bag fitted with a large plain round tip. Pipe the batter onto the parchment paper using the heart tracings as a guide. Bake 7-9 minutes or until the tops are set, rotating the baking sheets halfway through. Allow the cookies to cool on the baking sheets at least 10 minutes, until they can be easily transferred to a cooling rack. Repeat with any remaining batter. Allow cookies to cool completely before proceeding.

To make the cream cheese frosting, in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment beat the cream cheese and butter on medium-high speed until well combined and smooth, about 2-3 minutes. Mix in the vanilla extract. Gradually beat in the confectioners’ sugar until totally incorporated, increase the speed and then beat until smooth.

Transfer the frosting to a clean pastry bag fitted with a plain, round tip. Pair the cookies up by shape and size. Flip one cookie of each pair over so that the flat side is facing up. Pipe frosting onto the flat-sided cookie of each pair, leaving the edges clear. Sandwich the cookies together so the flat sides are facing each other and press gently to help the filling reach the edges. To store, refrigerate in an airtight container.

Printed From Annie's Eats

Dear Little LoDette'

Last night while consuming the ground hog, spirits were high and the time was ripe to let the Old T’s know, I had decided that after your most courageous act of drinkin, cookin’ and pimpin junk on the hunk…that I, had taken it upon myself to deem you a TIT, AKA: "Teena-in-Trainin". Well, all applauded your efforts and then Bubby said in his Bubbest manner,

“Now she’s gotta “GIT the T Shirt”

So be thinkin of a TiT-Tee, fittin your trainin.

No-body said this would be easy, Lil’LO

But I hope you felt the love and applause last night….for the story brightened the room.

ATL

S’lurlene

LoDette's Brownies

Vera Lee

There comes a time in every girls life when she contemplates changing her name. Lurlene has called me VeraLee for quite some time and it certainly is a fine enough name. The name Lurlene.....well when you hear it you know....this is a woman to be reckoned with. The name VeraLee.....it just sounds like the name of someone who could be your doormat. Sometimes you just get tired of trying to be that nice, sweet girl next door and you just want to kick some big-ass butt. That is the time when you need an alter alter ego. Just like the two sides of a coin......there are two sides to every person. One side may deal with the dingbats at work and one may come to the aid of a friend. VerDell and VeraLee are the two sides of this old coin.

I came to the realization of my inner VerDell last weekend at the Cape. I was there with Bubba and the daughter LoDette to attend the Epiphany Party. The people in the Cape....well they are serious about helping each other out of hard times. Each year, Saint Christopher of the Cape organizes a community party at the firehouse. He cooks up a big pot of chili and invites everyone to come and share a bowl. People are asked to bring an appetizer, a desert, or a bottle of wine.....and their least favorite Christmas gift. The gifts (from really nice gift certificates to pink flamingoes to games of "Pin the Junk on the Hunk") are auctioned off with all the money going to a worthy cause.

Well....little LoDette....she loves her some chocolate and she was just bound and determined that we were going to make some brownies to take to the party. Of course, the cupboard was mostly bare and I was just tired and didn't feel like trekking to the store so I pulled out the cookbooks looking for a brownie recipe that could be made with what we had on hand. As I was flipping through the pages I ran across a recipe called "Verdell's Brownies". Well, Verdell just sounded like someone you did not mess around with....I liked her immediately. Another plus, the recipe called for 3 sticks of butter and cocoa. These happened to be ingredients we had on hand.
Now I have been trying to pass on my cooking knowledge to little LoDette for quite some time. So far she has learned that whenever a woman goes into the kitchen to cook the very first thing she must do is open up a bottle of Champaign....and so we began our recipe. Lodette put two sticks of butter in the pan with the cocoa and it wasn't long before she decided that the cocoa was scorching and perhaps we should melt the butter first. Being the problem solver that she is.....Lodette used the microwave to overcome this slight difficulty. Then came the issue of what pan to use.....the recipe said to use a "sheet pan" but Little LoDette thought that brownies always were cooked in a square pan so square pan it was. After cooking for 20 minutes as suggested in the recipe, the brownies were still liquid....this resulted in an additional 20 minutes of cooking time and the opening of another bottle of Champaign.

When the brownies had cooled a bit, it was time to make Verdell's icing. Her recipe called for 4X sugar but LL (Little LoDette) had never heard of such a thing. I started pulling things out of the cupboard looking for powdered sugar when Lodette said, "Well it won't matter if you can't find it, we will just use four times the amount of regular sugar." I was trying to explain to her the fine distinctions between multiplication and varieties of cane, powdered, 4X, 10X, and confectioner's sugar when Little LoDette downed that rest of the second bottle of Champaign.

Soon, it came to my attention that LL has been doing some unsupervised TV watching. When those brownies had been iced she proceeded to get out three plates and cut samples from the corners, edges, and middle of the pan. She ran to get Bubba so that he could "judge" her brownies. Needless to say she was in chocolate heaven......so much so that she missed her afternoon nap.

Finally LL arranged her brownies on a plate (leaving a few in the pan......just in case of a chocolate emergency) and proudly took them to the Epiphany Party. Well.....they must have been good because they were all gone in a second and I didn't even see them fly by. Somehow I was conned into helping serve the chili (see where the name VeraLee will get you) while LoDette and Bubba conversed with the neighbors. By the time I made it to the table to sit down, LoDette had polished off yet another bottle of Champaign, greeted a student, held an impromptu parent conference, and was on stage showcasing auction items in the vein of Vanna White.

This recipe is from the Cape Charles High School Centennial Cookbook (1885-1995) which was a reprint of the 1984 Cookbook complied by the Cape Charles High School Parent-Teachers Association. Verdell Russell was a biology teacher at the school.

VERDELL'S BROWNIES
(LoDette's suggestions are also included in italics)
1 Cup margarine (butter)
4 Tablespoons of cocoa
3 eggs
2 Cups of sugar
1 1/2 Cups of flour
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of vanilla

(Open a bottle of Champaign and start drinking while you read the recipe.) Melt margarine and cocoa together. (Melt the butter in the microwave and then add the cocoa.) Add remaining ingredients. Bake in a waxed paper lined (what the heck, just spray the pan with Pam) sheet pan (what is a sheet pan? Brownies are always baked in a square pan) at 350 degrees for about 20 to 30 minutes. (It will probably take at least 40 minutes so you better have another bottle of Champaign chilling in the frig. Come into the kitchen every 10 minutes to check on the brownies and to refill your glass.) Do not over bake. (My Grandma taught me that!)

ICING
2 Cups 4X sugar (This is now called powdered sugar and comes in a box.)
1/3 Cup margarine (butter)
2 Tablespoons cocoa
1 teaspoon vanilla
Milk (to thin)
Lemon juice (I don't think so.....)
1/2 Cup chopped nuts (Not today....)

Melt margarine and cocoa together. (Melt the butter in the microwave and then add the cocoa. It looks and smells really good but don't taste it. Trust me. Wait until you add the sugar.) Add 4X sugar. (This is now called powdered sugar and comes in a box. It looks lumpy so I used a sifter which is like a big cup with a screen at the bottom. You put the sugar in the top and then turn the handle thing and the sugar comes out the bottom and into the bowl.) Thin with milk and add a squirt of lemon juice. Nuts may be added. (Black walnuts are best.) (The recipe should stop with "Thin with milk" which means just add a little at a time until you just want to lick the spoon. We didn't have lemon and who puts lemon in a brownie anyway?)

Swallowin Sunshine

This mornin' I was gettin' breakfast on the table for Buck, makin sure his pills were all out; when one of my favorite memories of my Uncle Vaden floated up.

It had to do with vitamins. Now I never took vitamins cause they were just too big for me to swallow. Try as I might, they would stop mid-goozle and fly back out like I had a squat little catcher in the back of my throat hollerin, "Foul", while tossin' it back. .

So because I hate gaggin, I just never took'um. But, be that as it may; one night I had to spend the night in Danville cause I was in "that end of the state" and it would have been rude not to.

Now it is well known that my Aunt Irene was not much of a cook, so Uncle Vaden had plenty of vitamins that he would dole out every mornin. He had the alphabet, let me tell you.

"Here you go Gee-Nawlmon," he'd say in his big ole Moses voice, "I put some sunshine out for ya."

Sunshine, in the form of a pill the size of Texas, I surmised as the little "catcher" crouched down for the snap. But while my mind was crunchin' on just how the hell I was gonna git that golf-ball down the hatch, somethin' else caught my eye.

They say presentation is everything, and sure enough, he had placed that golf-ball (along with some friends) in a little ceramic hand, the one my Grandma Maude used as an ashtray when she and her foursome were playin Bridge. I had to smile, cause regardless of the provenance; those vitamins sittin in that little hand, just said love, to me.

That little ceramic hand, the one that used to be filled with burned down Camels, now offered-up my daily dose of health and well-bein'. I felt my throat start to relax as my heart filled with the beauty of that simple gesture; and then I swallowed sunshine.