Hallelujah! The Welcome Table_ A Lifetime of Memories With Recipes - Maya Angelou [11]
We never turned to look at the houses we passed, nor did we really speak to each other once we were in enemy territory. We solemnly moved forward to our goal.
At the butcher shop we were lucky if no one came in. All whites were served before us, even if the butcher was half into our order. He would put our meat on the side and serve the white customer. In fact, a black maid or cook would be served before us, because her order was intended for white people. Bailey and I would stand around, never looking at each other, until there were no more calls on the butcher’s time. Then we would get the liver Momma wanted to cook for our health and make our way back across the white zone I considered the frozen tundra, again wending through the black residential area where every house seemed to sing “Welcome” and on to the store and Momma and the hot skillet. The aromas of fried bacon and onions told us that all of them—the skillet, the stove, and Momma—had been waiting for the liver.
The liver dinner marked the only time when my grandmother and Uncle Willie let us have the best parts of the meat. They both chose small portions.
Momma said, “You are all growing. Liver is good for your bones and your blood. So go on, eat it. You’ll be better for it.”
Twenty years had to pass before I could honestly say I loved liver well prepared. Bailey never came to accept it. But we chewed it and swallowed it, and it helped us to grow and maybe it did make us better human beings.
Líver and Onions
SERVES 6
1 pound bacon
5 medium onions, sliced
1 pound thinly sliced beef liver
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
¾ cup water
Fry bacon in large skillet on medium heat, and remove from heat. Do not discard grease. Place bacon on paper towels to drain.
Using same skillet, cook onions in bacon fat until golden brown. Remove from heat, and place on paper towels to drain.
Mix together flour, salt, and pepper, and dust liver with mixture. Heat oil in a large skillet, and fry lightly until browned on both sides. Remove liver and pour ¾ cup water into hot skillet. Scrape bottom of skillet. Season with salt and pepper if desired. Pour hot broth over liver. Serve at once with onions and crisp bacon.
MY GRANDMOTHER DID NOT SUBSCRIBE to the Lafayette County Democrat newspaper, saying, “It is written by white folks, about white folks, for white folks.”
We received The Chicago Defender and The Pittsburgh Courier newspapers although they were published in the far-away northern cities and arrived by mail at least a week late.
However, once a month, the Democrat published a women’s page. The page held notices of weddings, engagements, and a few recipes that were sent in by readers with their names attached. Momma knew all the names and the maids who worked for them.
On the morning when the women’s page was published, as the maids passed the store on their way to work, Momma would choose one.
“Sister Bishop, I hope you’ll be able to bring me that page this evening.”
The woman would smile, proud to have been chosen. “Yes, ma’am, Sister Henderson. Be glad to.”
The other women in the group would compliment the chosen one amid much laughter. That evening the maid would bring a folded newspaper page, and Momma would take a Babe Ruth from the icebox or a peanut patty from the candy counter.
“You know I’m not trying to pay you. Just saying thank you.”
Momma would sit down and gingerly put on her glasses. Immediately she would start tsking. (In the African American community, that gesture is called sucking your teeth.)
I would wait for her comments.
“Uh-huh-huh, these white folks. What will they stop at next?” She wagged her head. “They’re making gravy with beer. You know what beer is, Sister?”