Chapter 22
“Was that handsome Cuban fellow there?” Momma inquires as soon as I walk into the kitchen at Sweet Tea.
“He’s Dominican. And no, Alex wasn’t there,” I respond, before asking, “What are you doing here?” It’s late afternoon and Momma has usually left Sweet Tea by now.
“Like you,” Wavonne interjects, “she’s nosy, and came by to see if you had a rendezvous with Alex while you were at Monique’s house.”
“Well, like I said, he wasn’t there. At least I didn’t see him.”
“You are going to reach out to him and offer your condolences, aren’t you?”
“Just as soon as you make me that Bundt cake, Momma.”
“Don’t nobody make Bundt cakes anymore,” Wavonne says. “What is this? 1972? Maybe you guys can go to the discotheque in some go-go boots while you’re at it . . . you know, relive your glory days.”
“The seventies were not my glory days, Wavonne. I’m not that old. I was a child when discos were all the rage,” I protest. “Now, can we change the subject? We’re opening for dinner shortly, and I still see greens that need to be chopped.”
“That’s my cue to leave.” Momma grabs her purse from the stool next to her. “I’m going home . . . will see if I can’t find that Bundt pan of mine.”
I roll my eyes. “Bye, Momma.”
“Later, Aunt Celia,” Wavonne says.
While the kitchen door swings closed behind Momma, I walk around to the other side of the counter and examine the heap of leafy collard greens that were delivered this morning from one of the few local farms left in the county.
“They’ve been washed?” I ask Tacy, who’s standing next to me with a chopping knife in his hand.
“Three times.”
“Good. Nothing worse than gritty greens.” I turn to Wavonne. “Let’s grab a few knives and help Tacy with the chopping. Our supply was starting to run low at lunch, and these will take a couple of hours to simmer.”
I’m sure Wavonne had planned to duck into the break room and surf on her phone until we open, but she grabs two knives, albeit very unenthusiastically, hands one to me, and keeps one for herself. The three of us begin using the knives to remove the stems from the individual leaves and lay them on top of one another in piles.
“So, what else happened over at Monique’s?” Wavonne asks, and I realize why she gave me so little grief when I asked her to help with the greens—she wanted to stick around and get the gossip.
“Not much,” I say. “I arrived, got my supplies, thanked Lena for them . . . oh, and Nathan was arrested.”
“What?! Why didn’t you tell us that when you came in?”
“Like I had a chance with Momma’s hounding me about Alex and Bundt cakes.”
“Girl, you better spill some tea.”
“Jack was there.”
“Jack Spruce? Your law enforcement admirer that you’ve been stringin’ along for years so he’ll keep givin’ you inside info?”
“I have not been stringing him along, Wavonne. I genuinely like him. I just don’t feel that way about him. We’re friends. He’s very nice.”
“Very nice?” Wavonne asks. “Very nice is what you say about a dachshund or an apartment with cheap rent.”
“Oh, stop. He is very nice, and if our friendship comes with a perk or two, then so be it.” I take one of the piles of greens, roll it up like a cigar, and begin chopping. “And speaking of perks, he did share a few things with me, and so did Detective Hutchins.”
“Like what?”
“They found the gun this morning under some leaves in the wooded area between the road and Monique’s front lawn. It had Nathan’s fingerprints on it, and his hands tested positive for gunpowder residue.”
“Get out?!”
“I was there when they took him from the house in cuffs. He was ranting and raving and said he was going to sue them.”
“Yeah . . . maybe when he gets out of jail in fifty years.”
“It doesn’t look good for him.” I lay down my knife. “Why don’t you guys keep chopping, and I’ll get the pot going.”
I continue to tell them about the rest of the afternoon while grabbing a sixty-quart pot from underneath the counter and placing it on the stovetop. I turn the burner on and drop some onions and garlic that have been sautéed in vegetable shortening and bacon grease into the pot while I tell Wavonne and Tacy, and the rest of my kitchen staff within earshot, about the sequin on the front lawn and the feather in the den, and how Nathan claims he saw Odessa headed back to the house after the party.
“Sounds like Nathan did Monique in, but who knows, maybe Odessa had something to do with it, too.”
“Maybe,” I agree, and turn to Tacy. “Thanks for prepping all of this,” I offer, referring to the onions and garlic he had all prepped and ready to go in the pot.
Tacy, a man of few words (one of the reasons I like him so much), nods, and he and Wavonne look on as I add some chicken broth, apple cider vinegar, and water to the pots. We discuss theories about why Nathan might have killed Monique while the two of them continue to chop greens, and I diligently mix the fragrant liquid with a big metal spoon. As we mull over his rumored gambling addiction and alleged abuse of Monique, I add a few heaps of our house seasoning, which consists of paprika, salt, onion powder, black pepper, red pepper flakes, garlic powder, and dry mustard.
“There,” I say, giving the pot a final stir and turning up the heat on the stove. “All ready for the greens and ham hocks.”
Once we’re done chopping the greens, we’ll add them to the pots along with some ham hocks and simmer them for a good two hours. Then we’ll pull the hocks out, remove the meat from the bone, chop it into small pieces, and return it to the pot before moving the finished product to the steam table to keep the greens hot before they are plated, topped with bits of crispy bacon, and taken out to our guests with a bottle of my homemade hot pepper sauce.
I turn back toward the counter and pick up a knife. I’m about to help Tacy and Wavonne finish chopping the greens when Sondra, one of my hosts, pops in with the portable phone in her hand.
“There’s a call for you, Halia. He wouldn’t tell me who he is, but he says it’s urgent.”
“Really?” I ask. “It’s probably some dial-a-date guy Momma gave my number to.” I laugh and put the phone to my ear. “This is Halia.”
“Hi, Halia,” I hear in a low deep voice. “Please don’t hang up.”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Nathan . . . Nathan Tucker. I need your help.”


RECIPE FROM HALIA’S KITCHEN
Illustration
Halia’s Collard Greens
 
Ingredients
4 bunches collard greens
1 tablespoon vegetable shortening
8 slices bacon
1 chopped onion
3 cloves chopped garlic
4 cups chicken broth
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
3 cups water
1 tablespoon Sweet Tea House Seasoning
1 smoked ham hock
 
Sweet Tea House Seasoning
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon paprika
2 teaspoon onion powder
1½ teaspoons red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon dry mustard
 
• Swish greens in a large bowl (or sanitized sink) of cold water to remove grit before transferring to a colander to drain. Replace water in bowl and repeat process of swishing greens and transferring them to a colander until greens are grit free (i.e., when you do not see any grit in the water after extracting the greens).
• Stack washed greens (stalks removed) in 4 piles. Roll each pile up like a cigar. Slice into ½-inch strips.
• In frying pan, heat shortening over medium high heat. Add bacon, turning occasionally. Cook until crisp. Remove bacon, chop into small pieces, and set aside.
• Add onions and garlic and sauté in shortening and bacon grease until onions are tender (about 15 minutes). Add onions and pan drippings to a large pot. Add chicken broth, cider vinegar, and water. Stir in one tablespoon of Sweet Tea’s House Seasoning, then add greens and ham hock to the pot. Bring contents of pot to a boil over high heat, cover, and reduce heat to medium. Simmer greens and ham hock, stirring occasionally, for 2 hours, or until greens are tender.
• Remove ham hock from liquid and strip meat from the bone. Discard bone and excess fat. Chop meat into small chunks. Combine ham hock meat with chopped bacon in a bowl.
• Drain greens and transfer to a large bowl or deep serving dish. Mix ham hock meat and chopped bacon into greens.
• Serve immediately so bacon stays crisp.