Orange County NC Website
Browse       Search
DocuSign Envelope ID:A7B705FD-OEDD-4AC5-8764-8905D8B8991 F <br /> "Uh-huh." Clearly Annie Faye Norris didn't have time for flattery. My God,but her <br /> Grape Hull Pie was legendary. Even to this day,I purely swoon at the memory of those <br /> tender muscadine hulls, separated carefully from their pulp and seeds before being <br /> chopped fine,then reunited in a dense custard that was poured into a lard-built pastry as <br /> tender as a first kiss and topped with a good four inches of meringue. <br /> Grape Hull Pie was a rare treat, awaited by the locals in Wallace like some more uppity <br /> folks might anticipate an exceptional Beaulojais Nouveau. It was only on the menu a <br /> couple of weeks out of the year. Labor intensive,weird, and wonderful. I've never seen it <br /> on a menu anywhere else and I'm almost glad because it could never be as good as Annie <br /> Faye's. <br /> While I stood there and salivated at the thought of that pie,Annie Faye narrowed her eyes <br /> so that they were nearly lost in her round face. She looked me up and down for a full <br /> thirty seconds. Finally she sighed in what sounded like total resignation. <br /> "Get yer hair out of your face and go get some newspapers and vinegar and start on those <br /> front windows." <br /> Okay,you have to understand that I was used to Windex. I wasn't making the connection. <br /> Dot,who was Annie Faye's chain-smoking sister and could elegantly stack six plates of <br /> bacon, eggs, and grits on her skinny forearms,took pity on me. "Best way to get a shiny <br /> window is newspaper and vinegar. Get to it." <br /> So I did. And,bless Patty,they were right. After an hour or so, the plate-glass windows <br /> on the front of the little dining room were clean and streak-free. Sadly,my hands were <br /> completely black. <br /> "No food service today,"growled Dot on her way out to smoke her hundredth Kent of the <br /> morning. "Lookit yer hands." <br /> It took an hour of scrubbing with Camay to get them clean again. Gloves. Yep. I was a <br /> brand new graduate of Wallace-Rose Hill High School and didn't have sense enough to <br /> wear gloves when I was cleaning windows with newspapers and vinegar. At this point,I <br /> felt only marginally smarter than that poor confused soul in the Family Dollar dressing <br /> room. <br /> The next morning, Day 2 of my first"public"job,I had bobby-pinned my hair out of my <br /> face and borrowed some thick white uniform pants and a matching top from my sister's <br /> short-lived career in something called respiratory therapy at the county hospital. ("I help <br /> them breathe," she had explained succinctly,while drawing on a Vantage menthol.) <br /> "Your hair looks like a rat's nest," said Annie Faye, still cemented to her post at the cash <br /> register,just as I'd left her twelve hours before. Had she been there all night? She <br /> 5 <br />