Читать книгу Beyond Delicious: The Ghost Whisperer's Cookbook - Mary Ann Winkowski - Страница 18

ANGELO HAD A TINY PLOT in a community garden in one of the close-in suburbs of Cleveland. He was a big Italian man, about 75, and he’d lived in the neighborhood his whole life, watching it slowly deteriorate over the years as people moved out to the newer suburbs.

Angelo’s wife had died long ago, but one of the traditions he’d kept up that he’d shared with her was cooking. They had both enjoyed cooking and also canned their own vegetables, but lately he had stopped experimenting and stuck primarily to tomatoes.

“He has no imagination,” the ghost in his home told me. The ghost was an older African American, and he tutted with pity and shook his head. “He grows peppers sometimes—he could do so much with all those tomatoes he grows! Annie would give him some of her onions, too.”

I looked at Angelo and decided that criticizing his cooking might not be the best way to broach the ghost’s concern. “Do you know an Annie?” I finally asked. He sort of paled, then caught himself and sat up straight.

“Sure,” he said. “She’s a black woman from my street. She has the garden plot next to me. Why?”

“This ghost thinks she might be willing to trade some of her vegetables with you, for some tomatoes.”

“Yeah?” Angelo checked. “And who’s this guy, then?”

“My name’s Arthur,” the ghost told me. “I’m Annie’s father.”

“It’s Annie’s dad.”

“Well, tell him to get out!” Angelo said, but he seemed to be protesting just a bit too much. I could tell he was secretly scared, and it only took a look to get him to continue. “Annie told me once she sees her dad in her house from time to time. He’s been dead for a while. I figured she was, you know, crazy.”

“She’s not,” I assured him.

“She’s been asking me a lot about my tomatoes lately,” he added thoughtfully. “Like, what I plan to do with all of them and if I ever made fried green tomatoes—stuff like that.”

“And?” I asked, seeing the perfect way to bring up the reason for Arthur’s visits. “What are you going to do?”

Angelo shrugged. “Make spaghetti sauce. You know, these black folks don’t know what to do with tomatoes.”

I glanced at Arthur apologetically then said to Angelo, “I think they might. Arthur says he has a good recipe for tomatoes.”

“I know what to do with tomatoes!” Angelo replied defensively.

“Sure he does,” Arthur disagreed. “He knows how to cut them up and put them on things. He cuts them up and puts them on eggs. He slices them and puts them on a sandwich. He has no imagination! Look, ask him to give a message to my Annie. Tell him to let her know that I love her and Della and Peg, and I’m very proud of all of them.”

Angelo balked at the idea. “She’d think I was nuts!” he exclaimed.

“Did she ever tell you her father’s name?” I wondered.

“No.”

“Did she ever tell you that her mother was also dead, and that her name was Margaret?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s the other part of the message—he said he wants me to help him cross over now so he can see Margaret again. Now, how else would you know that stuff—and you already said Annie saw him herself!”

I could see it was getting nowhere, so I turned back to Arthur. “Did you ever see Angelo’s wife around, Arthur?”

“Carmella? Sure I did.”

I turned back to Angelo. “Do you think Carmella would want you to do this?”

Angelo practically fell out of his chair. “How’d you know her name?”

“How do you think?”

At that moment I realized that despite him calling me and having me come out, until that second he hadn’t fully believed any of it. “Now if you don’t mind,” I said. “I’m going to get Arthur’s tomato recipe before he crosses over. Are you going to give Annie his message?”

“Yeah,” Angelo agreed quietly. “I’ll give it to her.”

A couple of weeks later I called Angelo back, just to make sure he’d delivered Arthur’s last message. He had. Annie had been very appreciative, and she gave him some of her peppers and onions, so he gave her some of his tomatoes. Angelo told her about the recipe, too.

“I bet Daddy gave you his recipe for Creole tomatoes,” Annie had said wistfully. “Everyone loves that recipe!”

And even Angelo agreed that it was “pretty good.”

Creole Tomatoes

4 large tomatoes

2 green peppers, finely chopped

Salt and cayenne pepper

1 small onion, finely chopped

4 tablespoons butter or meat drippings, divided

½ cup water

2 tablespoons flour

1 cup milk

4 slices toast

Cut tomatoes in half crosswise; place, cut sides up, in baking pan; and sprinkle with onion, green pepper and seasonings. Dot with half the butter or drippings, pour water into pan, and bake at 400 degrees until tomatoes are tender, about 20 minutes. Melt remaining butter or drippings and brown flour in it; add milk and liquid from the baking pan, stir until boiling, season and cook 3 minutes longer. Serve tomatoes on toast, pouring sauce over them. Serves 4.