Que’ Lime Pie: A true Two-Bit-Teena Summer Dessert

You know, it's a sad thing...summer birthdays, nobody wants to spend the day in a hot kitchen..or even worse, over a hot grill. And don't even think you're gonna get a cake, cause a good one takes forever if you do'um right, or just 50 bucks if you order one from Caroline's, but that's another story. (We love our Caroline's)

So when Purl, and yes I will give credit where credit is due because I often am guilty of overlookin' the fact that the idea really wasn't mine; like with those roasted red peppers I "re-jarred" and gave to the Bee, but I won't go into that here.

As I was sayin' So when Purl came up with this fine ice-box pie it wasn't even digested when the rest of us weren't puttin our own spin on it. Even Bubba got in the mix cause his favorite pie is Rum cream and he thought, "Hell, a cup of 150-rum would just make this even better, and then I said; well, hell to you too, what about a couple shots of cheap Tequila and a pretzel crust, we'd have our-self a good ole Margarita pie! So then Lushious said, "Well hell to the power of three," what about a Cosmo pie for goodness sake?

If it hadn't been for Holly askin about a Pot Pie, I think we could have gone on all night, but we forgive her and her tendency to revert back to her tie-dyed hippy-skinny-dippin and eatin olive sandwiches days.

But be that as it may, we had such a good time that VerDell and I decided this mornin that the Que Lime Pie would be the official Birthday Pie of the Two-Bit-Teena's and if you were born in summer...that's your cake!

So, that bein decided it made it important to get the basics put down.

Start with 1 store bought Graham cracker crust
Add
• 1 can sweetened condensed milk

• 1 8oz tub Cool Whip (don' t use low fat - it won't work)

• 1/2 cup Nellie & Joe's Key (or Que’) Lime Juice (found in the juice section, not the mixer section)

In a bowl
Mix milk, Cool Whip and juice together
pour into crust. Refrigerate for several hours.

I put mine in the freezer and pulled it out to thaw after folks sat down and it was fine. It refreezes too..as long as the alcohol content remains legal.

So Bone Appetite everybody and Many happy summer birthdays!

All Sides

Perspective is a powerful player, it's kinda like our content, a stew of influence. VerDell and I can look at the same thing and still see or miss something that leaves the other baffled. I was talkin to her about this the other day...I told her there were three sides to every coin; heads, tails, and the edge and sometimes the truth was on the edge. But I was in the bed thinkin' that there's another side...the inside and all that went into the makin of that coin and that's a player too, cause sometimes new quarters don't work in a vendin' machine.

Like sardines we were...

Packed in the little kitchen "addition".
Left to right: Mr. Pat (The Manager) Lushious, VerDell, LaNeese, Buck, Dennis, Jude, The Bee, Bubba and Sonny. This was prior to addin' Lazy Susie.

Changes and The Interconnectedness of the Kitchen Eco-system

I think the microcosm in which I live is indeed proof that it is impossible to change “one” single thing. Let me just begin by sayin that while I am not a perfectionist, there are things that just annoy the hell out of me. Things I see in my sleep, little things like a spot on my blouse that while well scrubbed, I can still see as if it were the equivalent of a scarlet dribble. While I’m famous for tellin others, that “nobody’s gonna notice,” that’s just because I am so impatient that I can’t wait for’um to change. So, I’m just sayin’ if you hear me say, “Come own sugah…nobody’s gonna even notice!” Do not believe me, stomp back upstairs and change!

That bein’ said. The other day, I noticed the thermo-wrap on my kitchen cabinets has been crackin and peelin off ever since I got that new sanitizing dishwasher. Hell, I bet I could cook a “foil wrap” dinner in that sucker. But the point is, I’m findin it impossible to live with wrapped back thermo-coat, so I told Buck, “Honey, I gotta git some new kitchen cabinets or I’m gonna go crazy.” Bless his heart, he suggested that we just peel it all off and paint, but you know he got “the look” for that idea. And so the adventure began. I don’t even have the energy to write how it all happened, so I am goin to try and illustrate it in a diagram. It made perfect sense to me, but you be the judge of that. (Note: See above decision tree)

But here’s the thing, this is not as bad as 19 years ago when I suggested to Buck that we go to the “goin out of business sale” at Heckingers and look around. It was there that we even saw the thermo-wrap kitchen cabinets in the first place, they had slidin drawers and were the prettiest shade of white you ever saw ”Dream Kitchen White” I think I named them. That afternoon we knocked around and found all the DKW’s they had and loaded them into my truck. Back home we tested our bond by put’um together ourselves. Let me just say that if you and your husband can spend a weekend puttin together kitchen cabinets, your marriage just might survive anything.

But always one to test the boundaries of love, I said,

“Buck, don’t you think it would be a good idea to enclose the back porch and make this one big kitchen and Supper-club eatin’ room? He paused for a minute and then said…only if I can add a deck!”

See what I mean! Our little project took on a life of it’s own. While we are handy, that was a task way too big for us to tackle alone so we found Leonard for the kitchen and the neighbors helped Buck with the deck.

Leonard stayed with us so long we added him as a dependent on our taxes, we got real fond of him, tried to hook him up with the Bee, cause she was “clock watchin” about that time but he wasn’t Jewish, so as handy as he was, it was not gonna happen. (Picky, picky) I remember askin' her, “Jesus Pleasus Bee, what if I had kicked Buck to the curb cause he wasn’t white” and while that left her pie-hole open for a few, she still didn’t take the bait.

But be that as it may, the Supper-club room has been the spot for a zillion (Bee's favorite word) Friday night Happy Hours and time spent on heavy'hors while I cooked in the kitchen. I can see folks and folks can see me and it’s not like the cheese standin alone while others are havin a great time.

VerDell found lots of furniture for me while she was out junkin and I took it all home to have upholstered. Pete Wright, (may he rest in peace) used to just shake his head when I would pull up with the latest chair salvaged from the alley or bought off a porch sale. (I miss Pete, he could cover a full size sofa with only 6 yards of fabric..a master he was…props to Pete)

The center of the Universe though was my three foot ‘cross Tole painted Lazy Susan. Found her at the 13 Acre’s Annual yard sale and had to call Mr. Pat to come pick me up so I could get her home. Supper Club roulette meant you had to hold onto your beer cause if someone wanted the shrimp chances are whatever was in front of you was headed their way too.

So many good times….just because I was willin to commit to one change, which lead to another and another until it all worked out just right. I’m sure this one will too!

Blocked

April was filled with events to share; wedding stories, Marvin's 50th, trips to Italy and the "Goosalini" lamp. So many stories floatin about like cat hairs in a sunbeam! But seems like I just couldn't catch up with'um. I promise to do better...gonna shake out that ole dust mop and get busy!
Promise.
Love L.

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!