Did you ever go into a restaurant for the first time and immediately look around? If you have, what is the first thing you look at. Yes, the menu, but aside from that, what do you look at? Do you look to see how neat and clean everything is? What type of people are working? What about the equipment they are using, is it new, clean, falling apart? Alright, maybe I am critical but it is the nature of the beast. Try to think of it in a crazy sort of way, you know, "if only the walls could talk?" I know, strange but what the hell. Go a step further, what if the equipment could talk. Hey it works for some...you ever see the movie "CARS". Those "cutezy" little vehicles talked, why not a coffee pot, a blender, or perhaps the toaster. Maybe we should rethink the toaster thing, we could of been brought up on freakin assault charges if our toasters had talked!!! Let me say, if you have never had the opportunity to buy commercial grade restaurant equipment, then you might not understand why everyone always keeps old equipment just for parts. Buying new every time something went wrong, would of meant having to promise your first born as payment. Sorry, I am beginning to write like I talk! Yes, the toaster...it's too bad no one ever told Eric, you butter the nooks and crannies AFTER it comes out of the toaster. Oh Kathleen, those Christmas ornaments you made from burnt toast were absolutely "country chic adorable" and a clever way to recycle...Fred's News goes green! How could one forget Matthew R. His first day as toast person, he was talking with "Daddy" (his name for Bill and yes, I was "Mommy), not paying attention, when the smoke alarm went off. Matthew R. still insists no one told him that the little lever on the front released the latch that popped the toast up. Of course how silly, at that point, it didn't matter. Those babies were even too burnt for "country chic adorable" ornaments. Now, think about the toaster as an object that might come to life, that little lever would be comparable to a tongue. So, you might say, "Matthew R. ripped that poor baby's tongue out...Assault! As if that wasn't enough, Matthew R. tried to pry out the burnt bread with a metal knife while it was still plugged in. If "Daddy" hadn't glanced over just in time, Matthew R. might have become the perfect "country chic adorable" ornament for the tree top!! As the smoke cleared, customers stopped laughing, smoke alarms were reset and Matthew R. stopped hyper-ventilating...he gasped and so did the toaster. Assault with a deadly weapon! It was then we found out..during this thirty seconds of utter chaos, his ring had slipped off. Yes, he announced the toaster had "swallowed" his ring. Oh bastard, now what? Somewhere in our storage was another older wiser toaster, praying to the "toaster Gods", "please don't let them find me, I am old, all I have left is my tongue!!" True to its' form, "the old boy" performed without a hitch for the remainder of the day. We had to promise the "toaster Gods" Matthew R. would not even look at it.
As the day ended and the evening shadows consumed Fred's News, in walked "Johann the Nephew..Great"! He had witnessed the assault on the little toaster earlier in the day. It was quite obvious it no longer had a tongue and was suffering from the toaster form of "black lung disease". Johann's first question: "Did you get the ring out?" "No! Daddy hollered. "Yes" Mommy contradicted. Too late, Johann offered to FIX it. I had nightmares for week after he unscrewed the stainless plates that held that baby together. He then proceeded to turn it upside down and shake it. At least a hundred pieces of springs, screws, electrical caps, nuts, bolts and oh yes, one ring fell out of that poor thing. Daddy looked on horrified, "what the f@#% Johann, now what are we going to do?" "No problem, piece a cake" Yeah, about three hours later and with at least a dozen pieces no longer needed...according to Johann, it worked. I have no idea how or why but it worked. The little toaster was not the only one praying to the "toaster Gods" that day!!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
The "Degrees" to Fred's News
Many of the patrons that visited Fred's News from its' beginnings in the 1940's were either long time village residents, family members or long time friends. This held true during our ownership as well, but many new friends from all corners of the world were added. Many times we joke that people all over the place could somehow link themselves to either Fred's News or a family member that knew of Fred's News in a very quick amount of time. Sort of like the Kevin Bacon Game...Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. To this day, we still hear from friends that once visited Fred's News, but are now located around the world. These countries include: Australia, Korea, Brazil, England, many different African nations, Mexico and many more. Somewhere in my boxes of memorabilia are menus from Sydney, Australia, (thanks to Richard and Marge). Many young people that were born and raised in that small town, have now
moved to other states in pursuit of their careers, but would always make a return visit to Fred's News when they were in the area. All would tell us, "I wish there was a Fred's near me!" There probably is, but the great memories of that place as they were growing up were unique. For us, it is very comforting to know that whether it was "the brothers" or us, this little place made a difference to so many.
Recently friends from Connecticut let me know they would be in the area. They asked where I worked, they wanted to stop and say hello. Unfortunately, once they arrived they realized they had forgotten the paper with the info. Immediately they contacted Disney "City Hall", told them the story and in the tradition of Disney, they were given my Disney email. We met two days later. What a surprise! Their son had worked for us for a number of years and they had promised him they would look me up.
Just a couple of months ago I was at work. One of my people came to me saying a Guest had an issue and would like to speak with management. No problem, off I went. As I approached the Guest and introduced myself, I noticed him looking at my name tag. He announced he knew where Baltic, Connecticut was. Strange, not too many know that. I smiled and asked him, "Really, are you sure?" His explanation: he is married to a young lady from Baltic. Her parents still live there. When I told him that we had been the owners of Fred's News for twenty-two years, he smiled, laughed and said he and his wife had been there recently. His wife explained to him that she had grown up with our sons and was a frequent visitor, as were her parents. He pointed her out to me, sure enough Andrea smiled, laughed and we talked for awhile about the Fred's News she remembered. Since we have been in Florida, this has happened to me many times. People will look at my name tag, see Baltic, Connecticut and remark, "I know where that is, there used to be a little place called Fred's News, great food, lots of fun we miss it." I tell them " I know the place...OMG sometimes "Big Brother is Watching!!"
moved to other states in pursuit of their careers, but would always make a return visit to Fred's News when they were in the area. All would tell us, "I wish there was a Fred's near me!" There probably is, but the great memories of that place as they were growing up were unique. For us, it is very comforting to know that whether it was "the brothers" or us, this little place made a difference to so many.
Recently friends from Connecticut let me know they would be in the area. They asked where I worked, they wanted to stop and say hello. Unfortunately, once they arrived they realized they had forgotten the paper with the info. Immediately they contacted Disney "City Hall", told them the story and in the tradition of Disney, they were given my Disney email. We met two days later. What a surprise! Their son had worked for us for a number of years and they had promised him they would look me up.
Just a couple of months ago I was at work. One of my people came to me saying a Guest had an issue and would like to speak with management. No problem, off I went. As I approached the Guest and introduced myself, I noticed him looking at my name tag. He announced he knew where Baltic, Connecticut was. Strange, not too many know that. I smiled and asked him, "Really, are you sure?" His explanation: he is married to a young lady from Baltic. Her parents still live there. When I told him that we had been the owners of Fred's News for twenty-two years, he smiled, laughed and said he and his wife had been there recently. His wife explained to him that she had grown up with our sons and was a frequent visitor, as were her parents. He pointed her out to me, sure enough Andrea smiled, laughed and we talked for awhile about the Fred's News she remembered. Since we have been in Florida, this has happened to me many times. People will look at my name tag, see Baltic, Connecticut and remark, "I know where that is, there used to be a little place called Fred's News, great food, lots of fun we miss it." I tell them " I know the place...OMG sometimes "Big Brother is Watching!!"
Sunday, August 29, 2010
In the Shadows of Early Morning Darkness
For over twenty two years, my daily ritual was getting up at 2:50a.m. For seventeen of those twenty two years it was seven days a week. It took almost of year for my brain to accept that this ritual was its' new lifestyle and was not going to kill me. The last four years in business, we decided that we needed Monday as a day of rest. We still awoke every Monday morning at 3:00a.m., read the paper and had a cup of coffee in our own kitchen!
There were times we felt we were the only people awake at that time in the small village of Baltic but after a few years, I realized "we were not alone". I usually made it downstairs to the restaurant by 3:30-3:45a.m. The main kitchen for Fred's News was upstairs as part of our home. We had the big prep island, the butcher block table and the massive stainless steel gas stove, used to pump out all those potatoes, pies, muffins and everyday specials at Fred's News. By the time I headed down the stairs, those wonderful aromas were fast on my heels. Certain days of the week, there might be someone waiting for me to arrive. Our friend from Delia's Bakery, delivering grinder rolls, the Norwich Bulletin delivery person, Sunday mornings you might have a few cars waiting out front,filled very hungry people, after a night of partying, or prior to his marriage, good friend "DeLaval", after dancing all night! If the state troopers were waiting for a cup of coffee, it discouraged the Saturday night party goers from coming in. Thursday mornings, Waste Management, also liked to arrive at 3:30a.m. This allowed them to back into the driveway and retrieve the dumpster without blocking traffic on West Main Street. Their driver, our good friend Paul, would keep me company as I brewed the first pot of coffee to begin the day. There we days that Paul also helped carry product down the bulk-head from the early morning US Foods delivery. Forget the coffee, that alone would wake you up! It was always a race to see if we could be ready by the time the regulars came in. Dave and Doug would arrive anytime after 4:45. Strict orders from management, "come in the back door!" Every morning they'd get their first cup of coffee and begin the ritual of wrapping the silverware in napkins. Dave still calls us everyday since we have left Connecticut. This is the new morning ritual we look forward to. He also meets Doug some mornings for coffee at a small cafe in Franklin. During warmer weather, Glen would arrive on his bike shortly after 5:00a.m. That early morning ride from Hanover was quiet and peaceful. Many times Glen would pick a handful of wildflowers or perhaps some beautiful flowers grown by his wife Solange. Their glorious colors would grace Fred's News counter for days. Shortly after that "Doc" would arrive from Scotland, usually in his old VW van. He would sit with Glen and have his first cup of morning coffee. These few individuals would begin conversations opened to everyone. At Fred's News, not a person, place or thing was sacred. The rowdy morning crew set the tone for the day. People would arrive, join in and enjoy. One never knew when they might just become the "victim". This form of harassment was unique to Fred's News and for all to enjoy. We would explain to people, "Once you are "attacked" you're in!" I thoroughly enjoyed when a new face showed up. The crowd would calm down, size them up and decide, "do we or don't we." It must of been some keen sense of intuition, because the majority of time their decision was right on.
No morning would be complete without a visit from the "farm boys". They usually called in an order around 4:30a.m., just to make sure they would not be inside as the first customers arrived. After a night of milking cows and cleaning barn floors, they were a sight to behold and really not the fresh scent of morning dew! Once in awhile one of the hired guys would stop in and pick up the order on his way to work at the Spielman Farm. I was very grateful for those days.
Many have asked "Was it boring all those years?" Absolutely not! Everyday was new and exciting. "Was it a challenge?" Life is a challenge and far from mundane. If you are passionate about your lifestyle then let the games begin!
There were times we felt we were the only people awake at that time in the small village of Baltic but after a few years, I realized "we were not alone". I usually made it downstairs to the restaurant by 3:30-3:45a.m. The main kitchen for Fred's News was upstairs as part of our home. We had the big prep island, the butcher block table and the massive stainless steel gas stove, used to pump out all those potatoes, pies, muffins and everyday specials at Fred's News. By the time I headed down the stairs, those wonderful aromas were fast on my heels. Certain days of the week, there might be someone waiting for me to arrive. Our friend from Delia's Bakery, delivering grinder rolls, the Norwich Bulletin delivery person, Sunday mornings you might have a few cars waiting out front,filled very hungry people, after a night of partying, or prior to his marriage, good friend "DeLaval", after dancing all night! If the state troopers were waiting for a cup of coffee, it discouraged the Saturday night party goers from coming in. Thursday mornings, Waste Management, also liked to arrive at 3:30a.m. This allowed them to back into the driveway and retrieve the dumpster without blocking traffic on West Main Street. Their driver, our good friend Paul, would keep me company as I brewed the first pot of coffee to begin the day. There we days that Paul also helped carry product down the bulk-head from the early morning US Foods delivery. Forget the coffee, that alone would wake you up! It was always a race to see if we could be ready by the time the regulars came in. Dave and Doug would arrive anytime after 4:45. Strict orders from management, "come in the back door!" Every morning they'd get their first cup of coffee and begin the ritual of wrapping the silverware in napkins. Dave still calls us everyday since we have left Connecticut. This is the new morning ritual we look forward to. He also meets Doug some mornings for coffee at a small cafe in Franklin. During warmer weather, Glen would arrive on his bike shortly after 5:00a.m. That early morning ride from Hanover was quiet and peaceful. Many times Glen would pick a handful of wildflowers or perhaps some beautiful flowers grown by his wife Solange. Their glorious colors would grace Fred's News counter for days. Shortly after that "Doc" would arrive from Scotland, usually in his old VW van. He would sit with Glen and have his first cup of morning coffee. These few individuals would begin conversations opened to everyone. At Fred's News, not a person, place or thing was sacred. The rowdy morning crew set the tone for the day. People would arrive, join in and enjoy. One never knew when they might just become the "victim". This form of harassment was unique to Fred's News and for all to enjoy. We would explain to people, "Once you are "attacked" you're in!" I thoroughly enjoyed when a new face showed up. The crowd would calm down, size them up and decide, "do we or don't we." It must of been some keen sense of intuition, because the majority of time their decision was right on.
No morning would be complete without a visit from the "farm boys". They usually called in an order around 4:30a.m., just to make sure they would not be inside as the first customers arrived. After a night of milking cows and cleaning barn floors, they were a sight to behold and really not the fresh scent of morning dew! Once in awhile one of the hired guys would stop in and pick up the order on his way to work at the Spielman Farm. I was very grateful for those days.
Many have asked "Was it boring all those years?" Absolutely not! Everyday was new and exciting. "Was it a challenge?" Life is a challenge and far from mundane. If you are passionate about your lifestyle then let the games begin!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Thought we Lost the Old Woman!
One of the most difficult adjustments we had to make as a family was owning a 24/7 business. You couldn't just close or leave, we had to be there. Life before Fred's News was usually adjusted to fit the kids' schedule. There was basketball at St, Joseph's School, Little League in the spring, men's softball in the fall. Bill was coach of the boys basketball team as well as little league coach for youngest son Mark. In his "spare" time he coached girl's high school basketball and softball for the Academy of the Holy Family. I worked as a vocational director at an agency for the developmentally disabled. We had talked with the boys about purchasing Fred's News, everyone was quite excited. What made the transition so difficult...we had to wait two months to move into the house above the restaurant. When the time came to move, it was immediate. The big move was only about four hundred feet up the street,15 West Main Street to 51 West Main Street, but it might as well have been four hundred miles...what a mess. It took forever to sort out the address change with the Post Office. In all fairness to the Post Office....the change of address forms we sent to all the places that needed them, thought it a joke. On top of everything, at the precise time we decided to make the big move, Southern New England Telephone went on strike. There were no cell phones or ordering you own product via the computer. How the hell were we suppose to run a business? No phone in the restaurant, no phone in the new house. Between the grandparents and "Loose Wheel", who lived behind us, we muddled through. Any orders placed with our vendors had to be called in before midnight the previous day.
Every afternoon I headed out the back door to "Loose Wheel's" house. Usually she'd answer the door, or yell "door's open, come on in." That damn door was always locked and she'd have to stop what she was doing and let me in. She was always afraid some nut would walk in if she didn't barricade herself in. By the way she was in her early eighties by then and still very spry. On one afternoon I headed over to her place, as I started to knock on the screen door, I noticed "Loose Wheel" laying on the couch with her hands across her chest. Not wanting to scare her I softly called her name. She didn't move, I tried again and again. By this time I'm thinking..."not a good scenario here!" "How am I going to call 911 when I can't even get into the house and we haven't got a God-damn phone in either the house or the restaurant." I decided to try and remove the screen, but to my amazement, the door WAS NOT locked! OMG not good, she looked DEAD. Slowly I walked forward to see if she was breathing. Tough to tell..um, should I try to shake her? If she isn't dead, I'm going to give her a freakin heart attack. My decision, was to move very close to her and see if I could hear her breathe. Bad decision, very bad!!! I was about two inches from her face when she opened her eyes and screamed. I damn near had a heart attack, she's trembling and screaming "Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out me!" "What?" "I scared the shit out of you, take a look at my panties "Loose Wheel!" After I calmed her down and demanded an explanation just as she had demanded one from me, the real story unfolded. "Ms. Loose Wheel" wasn't feeling her usual chipper self that afternoon. She couldn't call and let me know, (thank you SNET), she had decided to wait for me by laying down on the couch. She'd left the door unlocked because she felt too weak to get up. As for falling asleep, it wasn't part of her master plan. Following that story with a happy ending, I placed my orders, gave "Loose Wheel" strict orders never to leave her door unlocked, some one could of walked in and hurt her. As I walked back down the driveway, she yelled "Thanks...I feel better, you got my heart ticking faster honey!" Me, I felt like shit...and I still couldn't hear a thing as a result of her God-awful blood curdling screams! Nice!!!
Every afternoon I headed out the back door to "Loose Wheel's" house. Usually she'd answer the door, or yell "door's open, come on in." That damn door was always locked and she'd have to stop what she was doing and let me in. She was always afraid some nut would walk in if she didn't barricade herself in. By the way she was in her early eighties by then and still very spry. On one afternoon I headed over to her place, as I started to knock on the screen door, I noticed "Loose Wheel" laying on the couch with her hands across her chest. Not wanting to scare her I softly called her name. She didn't move, I tried again and again. By this time I'm thinking..."not a good scenario here!" "How am I going to call 911 when I can't even get into the house and we haven't got a God-damn phone in either the house or the restaurant." I decided to try and remove the screen, but to my amazement, the door WAS NOT locked! OMG not good, she looked DEAD. Slowly I walked forward to see if she was breathing. Tough to tell..um, should I try to shake her? If she isn't dead, I'm going to give her a freakin heart attack. My decision, was to move very close to her and see if I could hear her breathe. Bad decision, very bad!!! I was about two inches from her face when she opened her eyes and screamed. I damn near had a heart attack, she's trembling and screaming "Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out me!" "What?" "I scared the shit out of you, take a look at my panties "Loose Wheel!" After I calmed her down and demanded an explanation just as she had demanded one from me, the real story unfolded. "Ms. Loose Wheel" wasn't feeling her usual chipper self that afternoon. She couldn't call and let me know, (thank you SNET), she had decided to wait for me by laying down on the couch. She'd left the door unlocked because she felt too weak to get up. As for falling asleep, it wasn't part of her master plan. Following that story with a happy ending, I placed my orders, gave "Loose Wheel" strict orders never to leave her door unlocked, some one could of walked in and hurt her. As I walked back down the driveway, she yelled "Thanks...I feel better, you got my heart ticking faster honey!" Me, I felt like shit...and I still couldn't hear a thing as a result of her God-awful blood curdling screams! Nice!!!
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Killer Yellow Jackets
I wish that I could be sure every town had their own memorable characters, because if they don't, Sprague could lend out a few. Perhaps we could put them on loan and make a few bucks. Our trio of former school crossing guards would fit the profile, unfortunately two of the three are now in a place in heaven "Just for them!"
Wayner, lived in the former Allen Hardware store long after it closed. I think he owned it because no landlord would ever let a tenant make a fort out of his building. This was not your ordinary fort, it was not equipped with a canon on top (although anything is possible). Before it was a fort, Wayner called it a three-quarter way house (see what I mean-different). That didn't last too long, Wayner said "to many problems and issues with the residents." For a while Wayner's fort was protected by one mean-ass dog. I can remember seeing that dog heading down West Main Street, dragging his chain, making a getaway, Wayner not to far behind. Then all of a sudden Wayner heading back up West Main Street with the dog chasing him. Wayner's fort was located two buildings north of Fred's News. As soon as they had passed, everyone in Fred's News headed for the sidewalk, just to see who won the foot race. Obviously Wayner was victorious because later that afternoon he was spotted crossing the kids as St. Joseph's School day ended. Wayner was not a bad guy, just different. Problem was he thought he was fine and the world was wrong. However, Wayner had served his country during the Vietnam war, paying the ultimate price, early death from a disease caused by his tour of duty. He will be remembered for many comical moments and the yellow jacket he wore while crossing the kids.
Oddly enough our next crossing guard who is keeping Wayner company,(you know where), was "Lawnmower Man". Yes, Stinky's "friend". Really, Lawnmower Man would fill in on days Wayner wasn't available or was too sick. As I have said before, he did work for the church and the Sisters of Charity, so he was a natural for the job. Both Wayner and Lawnmower Man were friends and patrons of Fred's News. Everyone may have cracked wise-ass jokes about them, but there were times that Wayner needed food and had run out of funds. We never asked why, we just gave him the food. He had a heart and a certain sadness about him that shined through his strange facade.
"Big B" was the last of the "Killer Yellow Jackets". When we left the town he was still crossing the kids and anybody else that ventured anywhere near the crosswalk. In the beginning, he would jump out into the middle of the road even if a car just pulled into the church parking lot. He'd make all vehicles wait in line until that person got out of his car and walked across the street. Tempers flared, citizens complained but "Big B" stood fast. Problem was sometimes he was in such a hurry, he'd jump out, risking his own life, put up the STOP sign, but wave the vehicles through. Those who would stop and holler at him would hear the stern reply, "Oh how I hate dat siwee wabbit!!!" Seriously, "Big B" did serve a purpose, he slowed down all vehicles that definitely were travelling too fast through a school zone. However, with that yellow jacket stretched over his too large of a body and held in place by the top button only, he reminded everyone of Elmer, Fudd that is!!
Wayner, lived in the former Allen Hardware store long after it closed. I think he owned it because no landlord would ever let a tenant make a fort out of his building. This was not your ordinary fort, it was not equipped with a canon on top (although anything is possible). Before it was a fort, Wayner called it a three-quarter way house (see what I mean-different). That didn't last too long, Wayner said "to many problems and issues with the residents." For a while Wayner's fort was protected by one mean-ass dog. I can remember seeing that dog heading down West Main Street, dragging his chain, making a getaway, Wayner not to far behind. Then all of a sudden Wayner heading back up West Main Street with the dog chasing him. Wayner's fort was located two buildings north of Fred's News. As soon as they had passed, everyone in Fred's News headed for the sidewalk, just to see who won the foot race. Obviously Wayner was victorious because later that afternoon he was spotted crossing the kids as St. Joseph's School day ended. Wayner was not a bad guy, just different. Problem was he thought he was fine and the world was wrong. However, Wayner had served his country during the Vietnam war, paying the ultimate price, early death from a disease caused by his tour of duty. He will be remembered for many comical moments and the yellow jacket he wore while crossing the kids.
Oddly enough our next crossing guard who is keeping Wayner company,(you know where), was "Lawnmower Man". Yes, Stinky's "friend". Really, Lawnmower Man would fill in on days Wayner wasn't available or was too sick. As I have said before, he did work for the church and the Sisters of Charity, so he was a natural for the job. Both Wayner and Lawnmower Man were friends and patrons of Fred's News. Everyone may have cracked wise-ass jokes about them, but there were times that Wayner needed food and had run out of funds. We never asked why, we just gave him the food. He had a heart and a certain sadness about him that shined through his strange facade.
"Big B" was the last of the "Killer Yellow Jackets". When we left the town he was still crossing the kids and anybody else that ventured anywhere near the crosswalk. In the beginning, he would jump out into the middle of the road even if a car just pulled into the church parking lot. He'd make all vehicles wait in line until that person got out of his car and walked across the street. Tempers flared, citizens complained but "Big B" stood fast. Problem was sometimes he was in such a hurry, he'd jump out, risking his own life, put up the STOP sign, but wave the vehicles through. Those who would stop and holler at him would hear the stern reply, "Oh how I hate dat siwee wabbit!!!" Seriously, "Big B" did serve a purpose, he slowed down all vehicles that definitely were travelling too fast through a school zone. However, with that yellow jacket stretched over his too large of a body and held in place by the top button only, he reminded everyone of Elmer, Fudd that is!!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Memories for the Senses
With the Fall season fast approaching, many great memories of Fred's News flood into my mind. After a long hot summer, the Town of Sprague, appeared to have a resurgence of activities as the warmer days marched into the cooler fall season. Kid's were heading back to school, international students were arriving at the Sisters of Charity Academy of the Holy Family Boarding School, fall festivals were beginning to appear, both bird and deer hunting seasons were just around the corner, as well as salmon fishing on the Shetucket River. On the cooler evenings, you could sit out on the benches in front of Fred's News, among the vibrant hanging flower baskets lining the street, and smell the campfires burning at the Salt Rock Campground, just a short distance from our restaurant. It was such a wonderful aroma, awakening the senses to all the good things Mother Nature had to offer. Many a night after closing for the day, we'd brew a fresh pot of coffee. Bill would finish watering the flowers for another day, and we would sit out in front of the place, drinking those steaming cups of coffee. Conversation would be about all the good things in life we've been blessed with; each other, our children now grown, successful and on their own, our wonderful business and friends we had made. Occasionally someone would walk by and we would offer them coffee. Most of the time they just wanted to say hello and enjoy the cool refreshing evening. Many cars would drive by slowly, admiring all the flowers. Some would wave and give us the "thumbs up" sign on the beauty of the area, but many never even saw us tucked in amongst the flowers watching and enjoying the evening serenity after a very busy and hectic day.
It was during this season, the planning for the fast approaching holiday season began. Sprague and the surrounding towns were home to many generations of French-Canadian people, myself, one of them. All of my maternal relatives, including my mother were born in Canada. Like many of the areas' citizens they too had arrived in eastern Connecticut because of work. As they began to migrate to the "south", more and more would bring their families and their culture to the area. As a child, my Memere (grandmother) would make all kinds a great foods. At times it seemed she used almost next to nothing to create some of the most tasty dishes that still hold fast in my memory. Mom was also a great cook, but when Memere was around, she was the chef-de-cuisine of the kitchen. One of my favorite holiday specialties was French-Canadian Pork Pie. I remember when we decided to sell the pies at Fred's News, Bill asked me if I could duplicate Memere's pie, or better yet did I have the recipe. Silly man, Memere NEVER wrote a thing down! So to answer his question, "No I did not have a recipe." "Could I duplicate the pie?" "Possibly!" Memere was one of sixteen children, but only my Aunt Marie was left. After explaining my plans to duplicate Memere's pie, she obliged. "Okay baby" she said in her thick french accent, "You put a little bit of dis and a smidge of dat, den you taste. "About six or seven spoonfuls later", SUCCESS!! The first season we offered the pies, patrons ordered almost two hundred! Pick up was the day before Thanksgiving. We also had a significant amount of apple, blueberry and pumpkin pies to get ready for the same pickup day. Some of our evening bench sitting was cut short as we prepared the pork mixture for the pies in batches, then froze it for later use. We also served the pork pies at the restaurant during Thanksgiving week, adding to the already large amount being made. I do believe the following year people asked about the pies in August, just to make sure I wouldn't change my mind about making them!
Here in Florida we live in a golfing community. The citizens of this community are over 55 and come from all areas of the country, Canada and abroad. Many are snowbirds, but the hearty souls, (us included) that truly are sun-worshipers, stay through the Florida summers. We look forward to the fall season for many of the same reasons we did in Baltic. The community once again comes alive, friendships are renewed, dinner parties begin and conversations are much the same as before. We are still thankful for each other, our kids and our new lives. We miss our friends and family that are not here. But the pork pie tradition continues, only on a much smaller scale. My sister and brother-in-law visited this past spring for a week. Her request: pork pie and crepes! Memere must of been smiling!
It was during this season, the planning for the fast approaching holiday season began. Sprague and the surrounding towns were home to many generations of French-Canadian people, myself, one of them. All of my maternal relatives, including my mother were born in Canada. Like many of the areas' citizens they too had arrived in eastern Connecticut because of work. As they began to migrate to the "south", more and more would bring their families and their culture to the area. As a child, my Memere (grandmother) would make all kinds a great foods. At times it seemed she used almost next to nothing to create some of the most tasty dishes that still hold fast in my memory. Mom was also a great cook, but when Memere was around, she was the chef-de-cuisine of the kitchen. One of my favorite holiday specialties was French-Canadian Pork Pie. I remember when we decided to sell the pies at Fred's News, Bill asked me if I could duplicate Memere's pie, or better yet did I have the recipe. Silly man, Memere NEVER wrote a thing down! So to answer his question, "No I did not have a recipe." "Could I duplicate the pie?" "Possibly!" Memere was one of sixteen children, but only my Aunt Marie was left. After explaining my plans to duplicate Memere's pie, she obliged. "Okay baby" she said in her thick french accent, "You put a little bit of dis and a smidge of dat, den you taste. "About six or seven spoonfuls later", SUCCESS!! The first season we offered the pies, patrons ordered almost two hundred! Pick up was the day before Thanksgiving. We also had a significant amount of apple, blueberry and pumpkin pies to get ready for the same pickup day. Some of our evening bench sitting was cut short as we prepared the pork mixture for the pies in batches, then froze it for later use. We also served the pork pies at the restaurant during Thanksgiving week, adding to the already large amount being made. I do believe the following year people asked about the pies in August, just to make sure I wouldn't change my mind about making them!
Here in Florida we live in a golfing community. The citizens of this community are over 55 and come from all areas of the country, Canada and abroad. Many are snowbirds, but the hearty souls, (us included) that truly are sun-worshipers, stay through the Florida summers. We look forward to the fall season for many of the same reasons we did in Baltic. The community once again comes alive, friendships are renewed, dinner parties begin and conversations are much the same as before. We are still thankful for each other, our kids and our new lives. We miss our friends and family that are not here. But the pork pie tradition continues, only on a much smaller scale. My sister and brother-in-law visited this past spring for a week. Her request: pork pie and crepes! Memere must of been smiling!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Attention Grabbers
Because someone is a character, may not always be a good thing. We have a tendency to assume they are funny, witty and great to have around. Most characters that frequented Fred's News were just that but Fred's did have their black sheep. This is in the plural form. When any or all of them were in the restaurant an abnormal amount of attention was given to them just to keep the peace. They thrived on being nasty, controversial and pissing off people. "The Nephew" had a tendency to be that way, although he is not on my "List of attention grabbers." Stinky however is. In this case the nickname fits. Nasty by nature although I have no idea why. Maybe he earned the nickname because he is nasty or maybe he's nasty because of the nickname, whatever, it is what it is! Many years ago Fred's News sold Connecticut lottery tickets. Sometimes on a lazy quiet afternoon the regulars would purchase scratch off tickets. If one would win, he buy a round of ice tea or coffee for his friends. On one particular afternoon, they hit a "hot streak" on the tickets. $2.00, $5.00. more $2.00 tickets and even larger amounts. The front door opens, in walks Stinky. Not a good situation. Without even a "good afternoon," he walks up to the old guys, sits on the stool between a couple of them, watches the proceedings and says, "give me a ticket!" That would be like a guy at the casino jumping in on some one's hot streak in the middle of a hot Black Jack game. "What are you crazy!" they all chimed in. I might add at this point they were all scratching tickets. Stinky asked for a ticket again and again but sensing a crime about to happen, I did not sell him a ticket immediately. Finally, Hogan made the comment, "Give the As#@%* a ticket from the back of the book!" "Fine!" Stinky hollered as he paid the price for the ticket. Some how Stinky made it out the door with his life. I really don't know how. For the record, the last ticket in that book was a $5000.00 winner and it was his. "That fat bastard didn't even offer to buy us a coffee" Hogan snarled. Now that's despicable!
Ah yes, "Lawnmower Man", I really don't know his name, I just know what the regulars offered about the man. He was pretty much a loner, had a tough childhood (could of been the reason he was an attention grabber)and walked to one of the local mills everyday for work. Really never knew the man had a license because I never saw him drive. So you can imagine my surprise the day he stopped by the restaurant with a pickup truck full of stuff for the local landfill. The truck belonged to the Sisters of Charity and obviously he was doing work for them, (not so despicable). As the years passed and he no longer worked at the mill, he continued to work for the Sisters and the church. His vehicle of choice to get around Town was a riding lawnmower, hence the nickname, Lawnmower Man. This would of been fine if the distance he travelled on the lawnmower were only a few homes apart. They were not. Sometimes the distance was a few miles and it wasn't to mow lawns. It was his vehicle of choice. He would occasionally stop at Fred's News for a coffee and a burger with the works. Snarly is the adjective that best describe his demeanor. Obviously he had never learned social skills, we could deal with that. We tried teaching by example...no good. Everyone breathed a bit easier when he would leave, he never carried on much of a conversation. If asked "How's your day going?" he might continue eating and snarl "who wants to know?" OMG....to many tense moments! The corker to this whole story is: Lawnmower Man had been told a number of times to stay off the road with the lawnmower. He was creating a hazard to drivers and himself. Ironically, the fire department was summoned to an accident just up the road from Fred's News. Car versus ???. The "patron paparazzi" ran to Fred's News, "I"ll give you hint" they yelled. "There were pieces of lawnmower all over the side of the road and a wheel heading down the hill!" OMG...Lawnmower Man!! Just for the record, he was okay, a few bumps and bruises. I did feel sorry for him but he had been warned and knew the consequences. Oh by the way, I think it was Stinky that hit him....no really! OMG!
Ah yes, "Lawnmower Man", I really don't know his name, I just know what the regulars offered about the man. He was pretty much a loner, had a tough childhood (could of been the reason he was an attention grabber)and walked to one of the local mills everyday for work. Really never knew the man had a license because I never saw him drive. So you can imagine my surprise the day he stopped by the restaurant with a pickup truck full of stuff for the local landfill. The truck belonged to the Sisters of Charity and obviously he was doing work for them, (not so despicable). As the years passed and he no longer worked at the mill, he continued to work for the Sisters and the church. His vehicle of choice to get around Town was a riding lawnmower, hence the nickname, Lawnmower Man. This would of been fine if the distance he travelled on the lawnmower were only a few homes apart. They were not. Sometimes the distance was a few miles and it wasn't to mow lawns. It was his vehicle of choice. He would occasionally stop at Fred's News for a coffee and a burger with the works. Snarly is the adjective that best describe his demeanor. Obviously he had never learned social skills, we could deal with that. We tried teaching by example...no good. Everyone breathed a bit easier when he would leave, he never carried on much of a conversation. If asked "How's your day going?" he might continue eating and snarl "who wants to know?" OMG....to many tense moments! The corker to this whole story is: Lawnmower Man had been told a number of times to stay off the road with the lawnmower. He was creating a hazard to drivers and himself. Ironically, the fire department was summoned to an accident just up the road from Fred's News. Car versus ???. The "patron paparazzi" ran to Fred's News, "I"ll give you hint" they yelled. "There were pieces of lawnmower all over the side of the road and a wheel heading down the hill!" OMG...Lawnmower Man!! Just for the record, he was okay, a few bumps and bruises. I did feel sorry for him but he had been warned and knew the consequences. Oh by the way, I think it was Stinky that hit him....no really! OMG!
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