She viewed the merger with skepticism, because there had been no discussion or rumors of a merger among any of the employees. She complimented herself for not losing her composure. If her mother had been alive there was no doubt she would’ve been very proud that her daughter had retained her ladylike poise, and poise was everything to Clarissa DuPont. Picking up the envelope, Hannah dropped it into her handbag and left the conference room.
The first thing she saw as she entered what would no longer be her office was the banker’s box on the desk. It took less than ten minutes to remove laminated degrees from the wall, family photos, personal books and magazines off a credenza and store them in the box. She surrendered her ID badge, and the guard carried the box until they arrived at the entrance to the building.
It was apparent the CFO hadn’t lied about the number of terminations, as evidenced by more than a dozen employees huddled together on the sidewalk. Their shock was visible. Those who were crying were comforted by their coworkers. She approached a woman who’d worked in human resources.
“Did you know about this?” she asked Jasmine Washington.
Jasmine shook her head, raven-black wavy hair swaying with the gesture. “Hell no!” she spat out. “And as the assistant director of personnel you’d think someone would’ve given me a heads-up.”
Hannah glanced away when she saw tears filling Jasmine’s eyes. She knew Jasmine had recently gone through a contentious divorce, even going so far as to drop her married name, and now being unemployed was akin to dousing a bonfire with an accelerant.
Recently certified public accountant Nydia Santiago shifted her box. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could use a real stiff drink right about now.”
Tonya Martin, the bank’s former assistant chef, glared at Nydia. “It’s nine flipping thirty in the morning, and none of the local watering holes are open at this time.”
“I know where we can get a drink,” Hannah volunteered. “Y’all come to my place,” she added quickly when they gave her incredulous looks. “I live three blocks from here and y’all are welcome to hang out and, as you young folks say, get your drink on.”
Tonya shifted an oversize hobo bag from one shoulder to the other. “Count me in.”
Nydia looked at the others. “I’m game if the rest of you are.”
Hannah met Jasmine’s eyes. “Are you coming?”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic, Jasmine,” Nydia chided.
Hannah led the short distance to her apartment building. As the eldest of the quartet, she suspected she was in a better position financially than the other women, who were nowhere close to retirement age. And she didn’t know what possessed her to invite them to her apartment, because she rarely socialized with her coworkers outside the office. She occasionally joined them at a restaurant for someone’s birthday or retirement dinner, but none of them had ever come to her home.
The doorman gave Hannah a puzzled look, aware she’d left less than an hour ago. He opened the door to the air-cooled vestibule, nodding to each of the women. She wasn’t about to tell him she was jobless, because New York City doormen were notorious gossips—at least with one another.
Tonya glanced around the opulent lobby with a massive chandelier and mahogany tables cradling large painted vases overflowing with a profusion of fresh flowers. “How long have you lived here?” she asked Hannah.
Hannah smiled at the chef, who had a flawless henna-brown complexion and dimpled cheeks. Lightly graying curly twists were pinned into a neat bun on the nape of her neck. “Almost eight years.”
“And how long has it been since you left the South?” Tonya had asked another question. “Your down South was showing when you said ‘y’all.’ ”
“I really never left,” she admitted. “I go back to New Orleans at least twice a year.”
“Do you prefer Louisiana to New York?” Nydia questioned.
Hannah waited until they were in the elevator, punching the button for the twenty-sixth floor, and then said, “It’s a toss-up. Both cities are wonderful places to live,” she answered truthfully.
She’d spent years living on the West Coast when her naval officer husband was stationed in San Diego, but after his second—and fatal—heart attack, her life changed dramatically, allowing her to live her life by her leave. Hannah gave each woman a cursory glance. She felt a commonality with them despite their differences in age, race, and ethnicity. And despite being educated professionals, they were now four unemployed career women.
The doors opened and they exited the car, their footsteps muffled in the deep pile of the carpet that ran the length of a hallway decorated with framed prints of various New York City landmarks. Hannah stopped at her apartment door, swiped her cardkey, waited for the green light, and then pushed opened the door to what had become her sanctuary. The dwelling was high enough above the streets that she didn’t hear any of the city’s noise and she could unwind at the end of a long, and an occasionally hectic, workday.
“Please come in and set down your boxes next to the table.” A bleached pine table in the entryway held a collection of paperweights in various materials ranging from sterling to fragile cut-glass crystal. Hannah watched Nydia as she made her way across the open floor plan with a dining room, living room, and floor-to-ceiling windows.
“This is what I’m talking about,” Nydia whispered, peering down at the cars and pedestrians on the streets below. “My boyfriend and I are looking for a place to live together, but nothing we’ve seen comes close to this.” She turned, giving Hannah a long, penetrating stare. “How much do these apartments sell for?”
“Every apartment in this building is a rental.”
Nydia grimaced. “And I can imagine the rents would be more than paying a mortgage.”
She didn’t have a comeback for Nydia, because Hannah never had to concern herself with mortgage payments. She’d inherited a house in New Orleans’ Garden District that had been in her family for two centuries. She kicked off her shoes, leaving them under the table.
“Y’all make yourself comfortable. There’s a bar under the credenza in the dining room, and I also have chilled champagne in the fridge if anyone wants a mimosa or Bellini.”
Jasmine dropped her handbag on one of the straight-backed chairs flanking the table. “A Bellini sounds wonderful.”
A smile parted Hannah’s lips. “And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve never been able to drink on an empty stomach, so if you can wait for me to change into something a little more comfortable, I’ll whip up something for us to eat.”
Tonya nodded. “I’m with you. If you don’t mind, I’m willing to cook.”
Pressing her palms together, Hannah whispered a silent prayer of thanks. Even though she was a more than adequate cook, it had been a while since she’d prepared a meal for someone other than herself. “Check in the fridge and use whatever you want.” She’d planned to empty the refrigerator of perishables in the coming week anyway before she left to attend her high school’s fortieth reunion.
Recipes
Deviled Egg Pasta Salad
4 cups cooked elbow macaroni
½ cup mayonnaise
¼ cup sour cream
1 tablespoon mustard
1 tablespoon white vinegar
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon pepper
8 hard-cooked eggs, chopped
¼ teaspoon paprika
¼ cup diced dill pickles
Place cooked pasta in a large bowl.
Add mayonnaise, sour cream, mustard, vinegar, salt, and pepper. Mix until well combined.
Gently stir in the hard-cooked eggs.
Refrigerate 1–2 hours or until chilled. Just before serving, top with paprika and pickles.
Makes 8 servings.
The Best Potato Salad
8 medium to large potatoes
10 hard-boiled eggs, chopped
2 cups chopped yellow oni
on
1 cup diced dill pickles
1 cup mayonnaise
¾ cup yellow mustard
¾ cup dill pickle juice
Salt and pepper to taste
Paprika (optional)
Boil the potatoes whole in the skin until fork tender, about 20–30 minutes.
Run water over the potatoes to cool.
Peel and chop the potatoes.
In a large bowl, combine the potatoes, eggs, onion, dill pickles, mayonnaise, and mustard.
Pour in the dill pickle juice and stir to combine.
Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Sprinkle with paprika, if desired.
Refrigerate until serving.
Sheet Pan Shrimp Fajitas
1 (1-ounce) package fajita seasoning
1 tablespoon olive oil
1½ pounds raw shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 red bell pepper, sliced into strips
1 yellow bell pepper, sliced into strips
1 red onion, sliced into strips
1 jalapeño pepper, sliced into rings
Preheat oven to 450° F (230° C).
Mix fajita seasoning and olive oil together in a large bowl. Add shrimp; toss to coat.
Lay out seasoned shrimp in a single layer on a baking sheet. Add red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, red onion, and jalapeño pepper; mix with shrimp and spread out evenly.
Roast in the preheated oven until shrimp are opaque, 8–10 minutes. Transfer shrimp to a serving plate.
Broil pepper mixture until lightly blackened, 2–3 minutes. Transfer to the serving plate with shrimp.
Nashville Hot Fried Chicken
1 (3-pound) chicken, quartered
1 tablespoon kosher salt
2½ teaspoons freshly ground pepper, divided
1 cup milk
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon Louisiana-style hot sauce
2 cups all-purpose flour
2¾ teaspoons sea salt, divided
12 cups vegetable oil
½ cup lard, melted and heated (optional)
1–3 tablespoons ground red pepper
1 tablespoon light brown sugar
½ teaspoon each garlic powder and paprika
Wash chicken and pat dry. Combine kosher salt and 1½ teaspoons of pepper in a large bowl. Add chicken pieces and toss to coat. Cover and chill 8–24 hours.
Whisk together milk, eggs, and hot sauce in a large bowl; set aside.
Combine flour and 2 teaspoons of sea salt in a separate large bowl. Dip l chicken quarter into the flour mixture, then the egg mixture, and again in the flour mixture. Shake off the excess after each step. Repeat procedure with remaining chicken.
Heat oil in a 6- to 8-quart Dutch oven to 350° F. Set a wire rack on top of a rimmed baking sheet.
Fry chicken, in batches, 15–17 minutes for breast quarters and 18–20 minutes for leg quarters, or until crisp and dark golden brown and a thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the chicken registers 165° F; turn the chicken during the last 5 minutes of frying for even browning, if necessary. (The temperature will drop after chicken pieces are added to the oil. Adjust the temperature during frying, as necessary, to maintain a steady temperature of 325°.)
Remove the chicken from the hot oil, and drain on the prepared rack. Carefully ladle ½ cup frying oil into a medium-size, heatproof bowl. Whisk in red pepper, light brown sugar, garlic powder, paprika, and the remaining pepper and sea salt. Baste the hot chicken with the spiced oil. Serve immediately.
Makes 4 servings.
Best Caesar Dressing
1½ cups olive oil
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
¼ cup lemon juice
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 tablespoons anchovy paste
½ teaspoon mustard powder
4 cloves garlic, crushed
3 tablespoons sour cream
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
In a food processor or blender, combine the olive oil, vinegar, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, anchovy paste, mustard powder, garlic, sour cream, and Parmesan cheese. Process until smooth.
Pour into glass container, seal, and refrigerate until ready to use.
Cornish Game Hens
10 tablespoons butter, softened
1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon or rosemary
4 Cornish game hens, weighing 1½–2 pounds each
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Blend the butter and herbs together, cover, and leave to marinate overnight in the refrigerator.
Prepare the hens by cutting along both sides of the backbone. Discard the bone. Lay each half skin side up and gently press down with your hand to flatten. Thread 2 or 3 soaked wooden skewers to hold the hens flat. Season with salt and pepper to taste, cover, and leave to marinate at room temperature for 1 hour.
After marinating, loosen the skin around the breast and thighs, and slip in tablespoons of the chilled butter and herb mixture.
Grill over medium-hot charcoal for 20–30 minutes until crisp and golden brown on the outside and juicy on the inside.
Creole Chicken and Buttermilk Waffles
½ cup buttermilk
3 tablespoons hot sauce, such as Tabasco, plus more for
serving
1 chicken (about 3 pounds), cut into 10 pieces
1⅔ cups all-purpose flour
⅓ cup sorghum flour
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons Creole seasoning
Vegetable shortening for frying
Buttermilk waffles (recipe follows)
Softened unsalted butter, for serving
Sorghum syrup, for serving
Combine the buttermilk and the hot sauce in a large, zip-top bag.
Add the chicken, seal the bag, and refrigerate for 3–5 hours.
In a large bowl, whisk together the all-purpose flour, sorghum flour, salt, pepper, and Creole seasoning
In a large heavy skillet, heat the shortening over medium heat to 375° F. It should be 1 inch deep when melted. Set a wire rack over a rimmed baking sheet.
Working with half of the chicken at a time, remove the pieces from the buttermilk mixture, dredge in the flour mixture, and carefully place in the hot oil. Fry for 14–15 minutes, or until the chicken is brown and the juices run clear. Maintain a frying temperature of 330° F. Drain the chicken on the wire rack. Repeat with the remaining pieces.
Serve the chicken over the warm, buttered waffles. Sprinkle with hot sauce and a generous pour of sorghum syrup.
Buttermilk Waffles
2 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon baking soda
2 eggs
¾ cup buttermilk
¾ cup milk
⅓ cup unsalted butter, melted
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and baking soda, and in another bowl, the eggs, buttermilk, and milk. Add the liquid ingredients to the flour mixture, and whisk until blended. Stir in the melted butter.
Preheat and oil a Belgian-style waffle iron. Cook the batter in batches, until golden brown. Cooking times will vary depending on the waffle maker.
Makes 12 waffles.
The Seaside Café Page 28
