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Gluttonous and greedy negatively describe the hearty eater offered the seduction of her favorite food.

Two large portions of rice sated my appetite, but the deliciousness of the dish made me long for a larger stomach so that I could eat two more helpings.

My mother had plans for the rest of the afternoon, so she gathered her wraps and we left the house together.

We reached the middle of the block and were enveloped in the stinging acid aroma of vinegar from the pickle factory on the corner of Fillmore and Fulton streets. I had walked ahead. My mother stopped me and said, “Baby.”

I walked back to her.

“Baby. I’ve been thinking and now I am sure. You are the greatest woman I’ve ever met.”

My mother was five feet four inches to my six-foot frame.

I looked down at the pretty little woman, and her perfect makeup and diamond earrings, who owned a hotel and was admired by most people in San Francisco’s black community.

She continued, “You are very kind and very intelligent and those elements are not always found together. Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt, Dr. Mary McLeod Bethune, and my mother—yes, you belong in that category. Here, give me a kiss.”

She kissed me on the lips and turned and jaywalked across the street to her beige and brown Pontiac. I pulled myself together and walked down to Fillmore Street. I crossed there and waited for the number 22 streetcar.

My policy of independence would not allow me to accept money or even a ride from my mother, but I welcomed her wisdom. Now I thought of her statement. I thought, Suppose she is right. She’s very intelligent and she often said she didn’t fear anyone enough to lie to him, so suppose she is right. Imagine, I really might be somebody. Imagine.

At that moment, when I could still taste the red rice, I decided the time had come when I should cut down on dangerous habits like smoking, drinking, and cursing.

Imagine, I might really become somebody.

Red Ríce

SERVES 8

½ pound thick sliced bacon

1 cup chopped onions

½ cup chopped red bell peppers

2 cups canned tomatoes

One 6-ounce can tomato paste

Dash of freshly ground black pepper

½ teaspoon salt

4 cups cooked white rice

2 cups water

Fry bacon in a large skillet on medium heat until brown, stirring with fork. Add onions and peppers. Cover and cook for 2 to 3 minutes. Remove lid and add remaining ingredients; mix well. Bring to boil, about 3 minutes. Stir vigorously, cover again, and cook over very low heat for about 15 minutes until rice and liquid are totally mixed.

Roasted Capon

SERVES 4

One 2-3-pound capon

Juice of 1 lemon

1 cup water

4 tablespoons (½ stick) butter

Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1 unpeeled Granny Smith apple, cored and cut into pieces

1 stalk celery, cut into pieces

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Wash capon in lemon juice mixed with water. Pat dry, and rub butter over capon. Liberally salt and pepper capon outside and inside. Place apple and celery in capon cavity.

Make aluminum foil tent, and place over capon. Bake for 1 hour, periodically basting with juices in pan. Remove foil. Reduce oven to 325°F, and bake for 30 more minutes.

T.R. MANSFIELD WAS SHORT and mean and lean. He was mostly bones, with no spare meat anywhere on his body. His lemon-colored skin was pockmarked as a result of childhood chicken pox. He was literate, but just barely.

I was nineteen years old and crazy for him. When I was not occupied fulfilling my duties as a short-order cook or selling jazz music in a record store, I thought of nothing but T.R. Maybe it was his way of walking that captured and held me. He moved as if his chest and upper torso had no connection with the rest of his body and was pleased at the arrangement. Which meant that his hips swung with a giant promise of better things to come.

Or maybe it was his silence that intrigued me.

I had lived with or around my mother and brother who talked all the time. They could, at no notice at all, hold conversations on the Soviet Union, the Supreme Court,