Apron Strings by Mary Morony

Author:Mary Morony [Morony, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Retail
ISBN: 9780615951799
Google: rRrYnQEACAAJ
Amazon: 0615951791
Barnesnoble: 0615951791
Publisher: MARY MORONY
Published: 2014-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Ethel

1942

Mista Joe and Miz Ginny was happy as cows in fresh clover after they set up housekeepin’ in an apartment near the law school. Miz Ginny took to makin’ friends like she’d been doin’ it her whole life, which I knowed for a fact she hadn’. But she was makin’ up for lost time. They had parties might near every weekend, and she always had someone over for dinner during the week.

Cookin’ was not a thing Miz Ginny had much interest in, though I have to hand it to her, she did give it a try once or twice. After they come home from their honeymoon, she gushed about how she wanted to cook all of Mista Joe’s meals. She said she was going to make bread and soups and roasts every night. So she asked me to help her make up a shoppin’ list. That was one thing she was good at—shoppin’.

“So?” she said, lookin’ at me like she thought I had the keys to the kingdom.

“First thang ya gotta do is pick what you gon’ fix,” I said feelin’ sorta stupid since it was clear as day to me.

“Oh, of course. Well, we’re going to have soup for our first course.” She stopped and waited with her pen ready to write.

“Miz Ginny, what kinda soup you gonna have?” I ‘bout rolled my eyes at her. I knowed she wasn’t that stupid.

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Lord a mercy. I don’t even know what ya’ll likes to eat. Mushroom?”

She shook her head.

“Why don’t we start small and work up to courses later?” I said. “How ‘bout a nice roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans?” Even my simple sister Huberta could about handle cookin’ that by herself, so I thought Miz Ginny could get by all right. She thought that was a fine idea. She took up her pen again, waiting for me to tell her what to buy. “I tell ya what, I’ll jest call down to Mista Maupin’s an’ his boy can drop it by.” She thought that was another fine idea. Maupin’s boy brought the groceries by about an hour later. “Miz Ginny, the groceries is here. We best be getting that chicken in the oven if ya wantin’ dinner tonight.”

“Ethel, would you do it? I’m going over to Miss Charlotte’s to play some bridge. When Mr. Joe gets home tell him where I am, won’t you?”

And that was pretty much the way it was. Whenever there wasn’t some bridge party or tennis game to go to, she would play at cookin’. She made such a mess I quit suggestin’ it and fell into fixin’ most of the meals myself. The ones I didn’t cook, Mista Joe did. I could always tell if she’d been doin’ what she called cookin’. When I come into the kitchen in the mornin’, the pots an’ dishes would be stacked in the sink—that is, the ones that’d fit—the others would be on top of any space that would hold ‘em: chairs, tables, books; even the trashcan would have a roaster or pot perched on top it.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.