I rang the little brass bell in front of my place. Up until then there was no food on the table except pick- led eggs and beets, and the dill seed bread. Of course I am not counting such items as butter and apple butter, which some of us consider a fruit. Or the four large pitchers of fresh-from-the-barn milk. At any rate, it didn't take long for Freni and Mose to appear, each bearing a steaming tureen. I directed Mose to put his down at Susannah's end of the table, and Freni at mine. Then they both stepped back a few paces, as if awaiting orders.
I peeked into the nearest tureen and smiled happily. At last Freni had listened to reason and followed my latest instructions. "The tureen in front of me contains traditional Amish chicken and dumplings," I announced proudly. "And of course some vegetables," I added pointedly. Everyone appeared to be listening intently. "For those of you with special dietary needs," I went on, "Mrs. Hostetler has prepared a meatless version, there in the other tureen."
A glance at Freni told me that she was pleased I had acknowledged her effort.
"Does the meatless version contain dairy products?" asked Jeanette, without even so much as lifting the lid and appreciating the wonderful aroma of Freni's cooking.
"Or eggs?" inquired the soft-voiced Linda. From the corner of my eye I could see Freni frowning.
"Well, does it?" demanded Jeanette.
Congressman Ream didn't even seem to notice there was a conversation going on. "When do we get to see the wine list?" he asked.
Susannah giggled and I scowled. Both at her and the Congressman. "This establishment does not serve alcohol. That was made quite clear in the brochure," I reminded him.
Garrett Ream looked first at his aide, then his wife for confirmation. Both of them were nodding. "Helluva way to start off the hunting season," he muttered.
I did my best to transform my scowl into a glare. "Neither does this establishment tolerate bad language."
Susannah giggled again, and whispered something to Delbert.
"Well, are there eggs and dairy products in that concoction, or not?" Jeanette was not nearly as distractable as I had hoped.
"Mrs. Hostetler uses only fresh, organic ingredients in all of her cooking," I stalled. It wasn't much of a stall.
"Yes or no?" demanded Jeanette. She was standing up now, the purple red of her face clashing with the orange of her hair.
"No," I said quickly. "Of course not." Undoubtedly my own face was as red as Jeanette's. I could just feel the shame. I am not used to lying, and it actually hurts each time I have to do it.
Jeanette opened the tureen then and studied its contents. "You know, Ms. Yoder, I am not trying to be purposefully difficult here. I only ask these questions because I have to. It's been twelve years since I've eaten any eggs or dairy products, and in that time I've developed an allergic reaction to them."
I swallowed hard and stole another glance at Freni. Freni wasn't flinching.
"If you haven't eaten eggs or dairy products in twelve years, then how the hell - sorry, Ms. Yoder - can you tell you've developed an allergic reaction to them?" growled the Congressman.
His wife, bless her soul, immediately opened the tureen in front of her and made a great show of smelling the steam that rose from the huge container. "It smells absolutely delish. I simply must get your recipe."
I smiled gratefully, and for the next few minutes busied myself serving out portions from the pot containing chicken to the carnivores gathered around the table. Susannah, a card-carrying carnivore herself, obediently did her part by serving the herbivores from the tureen in front of her. At last we all dug in.
"First-class cooking, ma'am," said Billy Dee, while his mouth was still full. There were murmurs of agreement from the carnivores, and none of the herbivores so much as gagged or spit their food out. Freni smiled broadly.
"I think my grandmother was Pennsylvania Dutch," volunteered Delbert James proudly.
Susannah recoiled in mock horror. "Your secret's safe with us." There were the usual obliging laughs.
"Did I hear you say you were a hunter, sir?" Joel Teitlebaum politely asked the Congressman.
Garrett Ream put down his fork and studied the young man across from him. "Yes, I am. Congressman Garrett Ream."
"Joel Teitlebaum, sir. From Philly. Not exactly in your district."
"Are you a hunter, Mr. Teitlebaum?"
"I'm a sculptor, sir. I - "
"And you?" asked Garrett Ream, turning to Billy Dee.
"Billy Dee Grizzle. I'm a contractor."
Garrett Ream nodded impatiently "Do you hunt?"
"Used to," said Billy Dee. "Squirrel, pheasant, deer you name it."
"I see," said the Congressman sarcastically. "What we have here is a reformed hunter then?"
Billy had just taken a big bite, so he merely nodded. "Ever shoot boar?"
Billy answered with his mouth full. "Yep. Lots of boar punting in Texas."
"What part of Texas?" I asked. Cousin Anna Kauffman married a Methodist and moved to Houston in 1974. I hadn't heard from her since.
"San Antone," said Billy Dee proudly. He turned back to the Congressman. "I've given up hunting now. But boar hunting was my favorite. More exciting than hunting deer."
"At least the boar stand a small chance," said Jeanette. "Deer are just sitting ducks." A couple of people laughed at her inadvertent joke, and I am ashamed to say I was among them.
"They don't stand much of a chance in Morocco," said the Congressman. "There they have beaters that drive them down out of the mountains, while the hunters wait in blinds to pick them off."
"We were lucky enough to be included in a royal hunting party once," explained Lydia, "by King Hassan of Morocco. The
Atlas Mountains are exquisite in April."
"We killed over four hundred that day," said the Congressman proudly. "Stacked them up like a cord of firewood. Of course there were about fifty of us, including His Majesty. Best experience of my life."
"It sounds utterly disgusting," said Jeanette. "I can't believe you're actually proud of such a barbaric act."
"What is a boar, anyway?" asked Linda.
"A sort of wild pig," answered Delbert James. "With tusks."
"Were you in the hunt too?" asked Susannah.
"Not exactly. The hunt was just for Congressmen and their wives. But I got to do some pretty special skiing that morning up on the higher slopes. Morocco has some first-rate runs."
"I ski," said Susannah. "Up at Seven Springs." That was news to me.
"I'd love to travel," I couldn't help saying. Not that anybody heard me. As soon as I opened my mouth, Jeanette opened hers and began to sputter. "There is chicken fat in this broth!"
I turned around to look at Freni, but both she and Mose had disappeared. "There couldn't be," I said, then, "Are you sure?"
"There are globlets of fat glistening on my plate. What would you call that?" demanded Jeanette.
"Gross," shuddered Linda. Just then Shnookums, who had been hidden somewhere within Susannah's billowing costume, began to yip pitifully. Of course nobody else there, with the exception of Billy Dee, had the slightest clue what was going on.
"You may be excused," I said sharply to Susannah. "A little bicarbonate, and you should be as good as new by tomorrow."
My glare must have been as withering as I had intended it to be, because Susannah got up and left without another word.
"Well?" Jeanette persisted. "Pass me the tureen," I said as calmly as I could. When it arrived, I examined and sampled its contents as objectively as I could. Frankly, the supposedly meatless dish was less tasty than the one that I knew contained chicken, This confirmed my belief that there was indeed a difference between the two dishes. On the other hand, there definitely were little golden bubbles of something floating in the broth and clinging to the dumplings and stewed vegetables.
"Well?" demanded Jeanette.
"I think I'm going to be sick," said Joel. His face had taken on the same rutabaga green as Jeanette's clothes.
"It's probably just corn oil," said Lydia soothingly. "Even Julia cooks with corn oil."
I beamed at her. I didn't know who Julia was, and I was sure Lydia had never seen the inside of a kitchen herself, but I was grateful for her help. Encouraged, I rang the little brass bell again.
Freni misunderstood and when she reappeared she was carrying an apple pie in each hand. I quickly took the pies from her. "Freni," I kept my voice low, "didn't you follow my instructions?"
Freni looked as if I had slapped her. "You told me to serve one with meat, and one without meat in it, Magdalena, and that's exactly what you got."
"There, you see!" I said triumphantly, turning to the others, who had undoubtedly heard our conversation anyway. "That tureen is entirely vegetarian."
"Tastes good, too," said Billy Dee, who had helped himself to a sample dumpling. "Mighty fine cooking."
Freni beamed. "This vegetarian cooking isn't so hard after all," she confessed. "Just cook like regular, and then rinse off the stuff that you want to be vegetarian."
Joel immediately covered his mouth with his napkin and fled from the room.
Jeanette Parker uprooted herself from her chair and stood. I hadn't realized how tall she was. From where I sat she seemed to tower over the table like a pale green monolith. "This is a breach of contract, Ms. Yoder," she shouted. 'When word gets out - and it will - of your duplicity in this matter, you can kiss your cozy little inn good-bye. And you," she said, pointing a long and heavily ringed finger at Freni, "are a menace and disgrace to your profession. What were you trying to do, kill me with animal toxins?" She pushed her chair roughly aside and strode from the room.
"She didn't really mean that," said Linda softly, and scurried after her mentor.
"Don't worry, Miss Yoder," said Lydia Ream kindly. "You are under no obligation to meet the dietary needs of your guests.
Just to supply them with ample food. Isn't that right?" She turned to the two men on her side of the table for confirmation.
"Yes, dear," said the Congressman, but it was obvious he didn't want to get involved.
"Mrs. Ream is absolutely right," said Delbert James a little more kindly.
That made me feel a bit better, but still I was fit to be tied. I had to take out my frustration on someone. "Freni," I said through clenched teeth, "you're fired." Then quickly I recanted, lest Freni take me seriously. There were just too many guests to go it on my own.
But it was too late. "I quit anyway," she snapped, before stomping from the room.
Now before you get too upset, I have to mention that Freni had already been fired more than once, and in fact she quits on the average of once every other week. Still, if I had been slower to anger that last day before deer-hunting season, there might not have been a corpse clutching Mama's dresden plate quilt. Then again, there might well have been anyway.
5
FRENI HOSTETLER'S CHICKEN AND DUMPLING RECIPE
Serves 8
2 chickens (year-old hens preferred)
1 " teaspoons salt
Dash black pepper
6 medium-size potatoes (quartered)
3 large carrots (sliced)
1 large onion (chopped)
4 tablespoons chopped parsley
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons baking powder
Dash ground nutmeg
3 eggs, beaten
" cup cream
lean and pluck the hens. Give head, entrails, and feet to barn cats. Do what you want with the liver, stomach, and gizzard. Cut the hens into serving pieces and put them into a large, cast-iron pot. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and cover with water. Cook slowly until almost tender. Then skim off excess fat and foam that has formed on top. Add vegetables and cook 20 minutes more. Then spoon dumpling batter on top of boiling broth and meat.
Cover kettle tightly and cook 10 more minutes. Do not open the kettle until ready to serve.
To make dumplings, sift the dry ingredients together. Then add the beaten eggs and enough cream to make a batter stiff enough to drop from a spoon.
6
With Freni gone, it meant that I had to wash the supper dishes by myself-since I had banished Susannah to her room. Not that I minded. I find that immersing my hands in hot water is soothing whenever I, myself, am metaphorically in hot water. If my hands can stand it, so can I.
I surely did not expect company at the kitchen sink, and would almost have preferred not to have it. But it never pays to be rude to paying guests. Especially when they are trying to be kind.
