Chapter 37
On the first sunny spring Saturday, when the ice and snow melted and the air through the cracked window started to smell like grass, Rose decided to head to the new grocery store one town over to buy some ingredients she didn’t have on hand.
She was going to make Beef Bourguignon from her favorite cookbook.
It highlighted authentic French cooking for American kitchens.
It was a hearty dish, and she would take some next door to Carol and her husband, James, who’d been under the weather for quite some time.
She’d dropped off chicken soup earlier in the week and a cinnamon coffee cake two days ago.
But somehow, it didn’t seem like enough, perhaps because she sensed in Carol’s vacant stare when she answered the door that James’s illness had turned grave.
Preparing food was the least Rose could do.
Sometimes it’s the only way to show someone you care.
I’ll make dessert too. Pineapple upside-down cake, Alice’s favorite.
As Rose moved about the new grocery store, collecting the items she needed—beef, garlic, bacon, fresh mushrooms, and red wine—she started to feel her mood lift.
She’d been a bit sad the last few months, ever since Doris canceled her visit to California.
She missed Alice. But today seemed different.
She felt buoyant as she maneuvered her cart through the gleaming store, taking in the brilliant displays of fruits and vegetables, and she found herself making eye contact with and smiling at the other shoppers, as if they were all in on a secret.
Today, spring had sprung.
Today, I’m making beef Bourguignon and pineapple upside-down cake.
After she returned home, she neatly set out the ingredients on the countertop and pulled the other items she needed from the pantry.
Cooking always felt easier when everything she needed was at her fingertips.
Before starting, she set the mood by putting on a Skeeter Davis record in the parlor.
She delighted in the woman’s syrupy voice as the song “The End of the World” wafted through the air.
She then opened her cookbook and began reviewing the recipe, but startled when she saw a teenage girl standing in the doorway.
She was holding an empty Mason jar and one of Rose’s dinner plates.
“I’m sorry,” the girl pleaded over the record player in the next room. “I knocked, but no one answered. I’m Judith. Carol’s niece. Well, great-niece. I’ve come to return your dishes.” She held the items out like a peace offering.
“Of course. I remember. I met you at Christmas one year,” Rose replied, rushing to take the items from the girl’s hands. “I told Carol it was no rush at all,” she added. “I didn’t need them back anytime soon.”
Judith tucked a strand of her blond bob behind her ear. “I think it gave her something to do—washing and drying them to give back to you.”
Rose nodded. “Your uncle has been sick for some time.”
“Yes, ma’am, he has.”
A silence fell between them, and in that quiet, Rose knew her suspicions about James’s health were true.
“Well, how fortunate Carol is to have your help,” Rose said, putting the dishes back where they belonged. “Are you staying with them?”
“Right now, just on weekends. But when school lets out, I’ll stay longer. I live in Green Point. My mother thought Carol could use some help in the house. But I don’t know why she sent me. I don’t think I’m much help to Carol. My sisters are both much better cooks. I can’t even sew.”
Rose smiled. “Maybe that’s why your mother sent you, so you could learn. Nothing teaches you better than experience.”
Judith shrugged. “I told her I’d try my best. You know, I was supposed to take a home economics class in the fall, but we have a new superintendent.
He’s from Chicago, and he’s got very different ideas about how a high school should be run.
He says they don’t have the budget for that class anymore.
He called it antiquated. Some of my classmates think it has something to do with that new book by Betty Friedan.
They’re letting the teacher go at the end of semester. ”
Rose noted the girl’s disappointment. “Oh, that’s too bad.
That was what I studied in college, home economics,” she explained.
“What most people don’t know is that it was actually designed to keep women out of the kitchen.
As in, teach them to run a household so efficiently, like a science, so they could have more time for other endeavors. ”
Judith cocked her head. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know that.”
Rose studied the girl’s doe eyes and gentle disposition. “You really wanted to take that class, didn’t you?”
Judith nodded. “My mom started working when I was ten. And I think that’s wonderful. She really loves her job, and she’s really good at it. But that’s also why my sisters know how to do things—like cook and sew—and I don’t. No one taught me.”
Judith’s eyes landed on Rose’s French cookbook, the items on the counter. “What are you making?”
“One of Julia Child’s recipes,” Rose said, showing her the page. “And my granddaughter’s favorite cake.”
Judith looked to the corners of the kitchen, as if she could see beyond to the rooms upstairs, and sized up the home. “You have a big family to feed?”
“Actually, no. But at one time, I did.” Rose traveled the twenty years in her mind, when twelve girls arrived in the back of Fred Jensen’s truck and called this farmhouse home.
“My children are grown and live far away. I live alone. This meal was just for me. But I like to eat well, alone or not. Of course, I was planning to send some over to Carol and James as well.” Rose paused.
“You know, if you really want to learn how to cook and sew, I’d be happy to teach you.
I can teach you how to bake bread, can vegetables and jam, bake and frost cakes, roast a chicken, all sorts of things. ”
“Really?” Judith’s eyes lit up.
“Yes, you could come for an hour or two each weekend when you visit Carol and more in the summer when school is out.”
“Oh, and maybe some of my friends from school could come too?” Judith’s eyes danced. “They’re really great girls. Nancy, Donna, Shirley. They’re disappointed about the class cancellation too.”
Rose imagined this group of teenage girls crowded around her farmhouse kitchen, notebooks in hand, hanging on her every word.
The thought tugged at her heart. “Well, sure, I don’t see why not.
We’ll see how it goes with just us first. You’ll have to make sure it’s alright with your parents and Carol. ”
“Yes, ma’am.” Judith beamed. “Could I help you now? Make the beef and the cake?”
Rose felt her cheeks warm. “I suppose. But I think you should call Carol first to check,” she added, pointing to the telephone.
While Rose waited for Judith to make the call, she ran through the steps of the beef recipe in the book, as well as the ones for the pineapple upside-down cake, though she did know them by heart.
Her process would be different and a tad slower if she had to stop and teach Judith along the way, and she considered how to manage the various tasks and timing.
Thinking ahead, she cracked the kitchen window open a few inches, knowing the heat from both the stove and oven, plus the rising spring temperatures outside, would surely make the kitchen warmer than usual.
Rose took a long, deep breath of fresh spring air, then smiled.
Summer was on the horizon.