An Unthymely Death

by ALBERT, SUSAN WITTIG

  HOMER MAYO’S HORSERADISH MUSTARD

  ½ cup mustard powder

  ½ cup hot water

  ½ cup white wine vinegar or rice vinegar

  2 teaspoons salt

  1 tablespoon prepared horseradish

  2 cloves garlic, finely minced

  1 teaspoon sugar

  teaspoon black pepper

  teaspoon ground allspice

  Additional vinegar, if necessary

  Mix the dry mustard and water and let stand for 20 minutes, stirring once or twice. In a blender container, combine the vinegar, salt, horseradish, garlic, sugar, pepper, and allspice. Process until the garlic and horseradish have been pureed, then strain through a fine-meshed strainer, pressing out the juice from any pulp in the strainer. Discard the material in the strainer. In the top of a double boiler, combine the strained liquid with the mustard-water paste. Cook over simmering water for about 5 minutes, until the mustard has begun to thicken (it will continue to thicken as it cools). Remove from heat and allow to cool. If the mustard is too thick, thin it with a few drops of additional vinegar. Place in a glass jar with a tight lid, and let sit in a dark cupboard for 4 to 5 weeks before using. Refrigerate after opening. Makes about ½

  But I have a totally different idea. I think Pete did it because he knew that if the shoe was on the other foot, or the mustard was spread on the other side of the bread, Homer would’ve done the same for him. Deep down under their surface rivalry, Pete Hitchens and Homer Mayo shared an abiding respect, admiration, and, yes, even love for one another. When push came to shove, Pete just couldn’t stand to see Homer go down to defeat by default, any more than he could stand to see himself come out on top by default.

  And that’s it. A true story of Mustard Madness, on National Mustard Day in Pecan Springs. But if you’re sad that the story is over, don’t be. Just make it a point not to miss next year’s Adams County Fair. You can stuff yourself with flapjacks and bacon at the Cowboy Breakfast, enjoy an evening of live country music in the Pavilion, and admire the Cowgirl Cloggers as they clog up a storm. And you won’t want to miss Homer Mayo and Pete Hitchens, going up against one another, no holds barred, armed to the teeth with some of the finest mustards you’ll find anywhere in the great state of Texas.

  “A tale without love is like beef

  without mustard, an insipid dish.”

  —Anatole France

  For more about mustard, read

  The Good Cook’s Book of Mustard,

  by Michele Anna Jordan, and

  Mustard: Making Your Own Gourmet

  Mustards, by Janet Hazen.

  In the meantime, though, you might want to make some of Homer’s and Pete’s gourmet mustards for yourself. It’s not hard to do, and once the word gets around, you’ll find yourself and your mustards invited to every weenie roast in town.

  THE PENNYROYAL PLOT

  THANKS, China,” Mary Burnet said as she gathered up the plastic bags of teas she had just finished blending. “That was a great workshop. I learned more than I ever expected to know about herbal teas—and about real tea, as well.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mary,” I replied with a smile. “I did, too.”

  Of all the classes I teach at Thyme and Seasons, the workshop on herbal teas—called From Garden to Teacup—is my favorite. We all troop out to the garden and look at a variety of tea plants: mint, scented geraniums, lemon verbena, pennyroyal, lavender, and many more. We talk about how to grow the plants and how to harvest and dry the leaves. Then we go into the tearoom and I demonstrate how to blend and brew the teas, using a variety of dried herbs. We sample the brewed teas, then everybody gets a chance to create their own original blends, or purchase some I’ve made.

  The black, green, and flavored teas that we think of as “real” tea come from an evergreen shrub (Camellia sinensis) native to China. The plant is closely related to the camellia and magnolia, and it is the young leaves and leaf buds that are used as tea. The Chinese began brewing tea some two millennia ago, and it rapidly became an important part of Chinese culture. “Black” tea and “green” tea are both made from the same plant; the only difference is in the processing. The only commercial tea plantation in North America is located near Charleston, South Carolina.

  Mary smiled and held up a plastic bag full of herbs. “I can’t wait to brew some of your Sweet Thyme tea. And I’m hoping the DreamyThyme tea will cure my insomnia.”

  “Well, I don’t know about curing insomnia,” I said. “But it’ll make falling asleep a lot easier—and more pleasant.”

  I said good-bye to Mary and the others, and began cleaning up. I was putting the dried herbs back on the shelf when Ruby came in from her shop next door. She was wearing a crazy-quilt broomstick skirt and a black top, and her orange Orphan Annie curls were a frizzy mop all over her head.

  “I just got a phone call from Paula at the Teen Center,” she said sadly. “Old Mr. Pennyroyal has died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, with genuine regret. I re- placed a big jar of dried sage. “He’d been sick for a long time, hadn’t he?”

  Herbs for a Tea Garden

  Strictly speaking, all teas are herbal, since the tea plant that gives us our black, green, and flavored teas is also classified as an herb. But when we talk about “herbal teas,” we’re usually referring to teas made from the leaves or seeds of garden herbs, brewed for simple pleasure or good health or both. Most tea herbs enjoy full sun, a not-too-rich soil, and a non-competitive environment—meaning that they’ll appreciate it if you pull the weeds now and then. (For more details, read Tea Gardens: Places to Make and Take Tea, by Ann Lovejoy.)

  Ruby nodded. “I think he was ready to say good-bye.” Her smile was crooked. “We’re sad to see him go, but there’s a bright side. He left his house to the Teen Center.”

  How to Brew a Pot of Herbal Tea

  Begin with pure water (spring or distilled water), heated just to boiling (overboiling reduces the oxygen). Meanwhile, half fill the teapot with hot water, to take the chill off. Be sure that you know how many cups your teapot holds, so you’ll know how much tea herb to use.

  Put the loose herbs into your teapot, one level teaspoon of dried herbs per cup. Pour boiling water into the pot and allow to brew for up to 15 minutes. Set a timer for 10 minutes and taste your tea. If you’d like it stronger, brew for 5 minutes more. Pour through a strainer into a pretty cup and sweeten with honey. Here are some other teatime tips.

  • To avoid a metallic taste, heat the water in a glass, enamel, or stainless steel pan, and use a ceramic teapot with a lid, to prevent the loss of the herb’s aromatic oils.

  • If you’re using fresh herbs, use 2 teaspoons per cup. Fold the leaves in a paper towel and bruise with a rolling pin to release the oil. If dry, use 1 teaspoon.

  • To reduce bitterness, strain out herbs immediately. To enjoy the tea later, refrigerate in a tightly capped jar and warm it gently in a nonreactive pan (glass or stainless).

  • If you use a tea ball or infuser, choose one that’s stainless and don’t pack it too full. These are best used to make one cup of tea, rather than a whole pot.

  • Many herbs have their own natural sweetness, but if you like sweet tea, add honey. Dip a spoon into the honey to film the spoon, then into your teacup. Stir and taste.

  CHINA’S SWEET THYME TEA

  ½ cup dried pineapple sage leaves

  ½ cup dried chamomile flowers

  ½ cup dried rose hips

  ½ cup dried lemon thyme

  ½ cup dried lemon balm leaves

  CHINA’S DREAMYTHYME TEA

  ½ cup dried chamomile flowers

  ½ cup dried lavender flowers

  ½ cup dried catnip leaves

  ½ cup dried strawberry leaves

  Blend herbs and store in an airtight container. To brew, use 1 teaspoon herbal blend to 1 cup boiling water. Steep 4 to 5 minutes, strain, and serve, sweetened with honey.

  “What a generous
gift!” I exclaimed, surprised. The Pennyroyal house, which is located in a quiet residential neighborhood, is a famous Pecan Springs landmark, built back in the days when the railroad first came to this part of Texas, bringing an economic boom. The brick wall that surrounds it also encloses a lovely herb garden that Mrs. Pennyroyal planted years ago. After she died, the Herb Guild volunteered to take over its care. I added, “I hope the guild can continue to maintain the herb garden.”

  “I’m sure the board will agree,” Ruby replied. For the past couple of years, she’s been an enthusiastic member of the Teen Center’s board of directors.

  “What are you going to do with the house? Sell it?”

  “Not on your life,” Ruby said. “We’ll use the lower floor for meetings and parties, and we’re turning the upper floor into office space for the staff. We’ll put some computers up there for the kids, too.”

  “What a great idea!” I replied.

  “I wish all the neighbors agreed with you,” Ruby said ruefully. “We’ve got to get a zoning variance, and Mrs. Jordan,

  who lives next door, isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect. In fact, she’s threatened to oppose it.” She brightened. “But I’m sure we’ll be able to change her mind. After all, the kids need a safe place to hang out.”

  A knot garden is a geometric garden design that originated during the Tudor period in England. The pattern—a square, diamond, or circle—is outlined with a low border of dense, slow-growing plants, such as clipped boxwood, dwarf barberry, lavender, or santolina. The shapes defined by the borders can be filled in with a variety of neat, compact plants, such as violets, marigolds, sage, rue, pinks, thymes, and daisies, or with mulches (chips, sand, rock, shells). This kind of garden is suited to a flat, open space, and is both formal and intimate at the same time. For more information, consult Knot Gardens and Parterres: A History of the Knot Garden and How to Make One Today, by Robin Whalley.

  A few days later, several of us—all members of the Myra Merryweather Herb Guild—gathered at the Pennyroyal house, weeding the flower beds and adding a few more rosemary, santolina, and lavender plants to the knot garden. We tackle these pleasant chores every few months, and we all have a good time together. Today, though, we were subdued, because we missed our old friend.

  There are two kinds of pennyroyal—the English (Mentha pulegium) and the American (Hedeoma pulegioides), a common wild plant. Nurseries usually offer English pennyroyal, but you’ll want to check the Latin name to be sure, or ask. The English pennyroyal belongs in the mint family and has been used to treat many different ailments, from whooping cough to leprosy. Because of its reputation (not scientifically verified) as a flea repellant, it was traditionally planted around dooryards. Pennyroyal leaves make a fragrant and tasty cup of tea. If you’re pregnant, though, you’ll probably want to pass. Pennyroyal oil is far more dangerous to a fetus than is a tea made from the leaves, because it can cause uterine contractions. (In fact, pennyroyal was once a common abortifacient.) It is best for pregnant women to leave both the tea and the oil alone, and also avoid pet products (such as shampoos) that might contain it.

  • In Scotland, pennyroyal is also known as pudding grass, because it is used to flavor haggis pudding (a meat pudding that we would think of as a sausage).

  • Since antiquity, bee and wasp stings have been treated with a pennyroyal poultice, and the leaves were applied to carbuncles and boils.

  • In the Middle Ages, pennyroyal in the garden was thought to repel evil forces. The dried leaves, stuffed into pillows and mattresses, were also believed to repel fleas, and the herb is used today in many pet products, such as shampoos, flea collars, and so on. In the Victorian language of flowers, pennyroyal means “you’d better go.”

  Even though Mr. Pennyroyal couldn’t join in the weeding and planting, he used to love to talk with us while we worked.

  The group finished weeding and left. I was lingering to set out a pennyroyal plant beside the walk, when Ruby came through the gate. With her was Jackie Peters, the president of the Teen Center board.

  “Hi, you two!” I said cheerfully. I straightened up and brushed the dirt off the knees of my jeans. “Have you come to look over the house and start planning your renovations? I’ll bet you’re excited about getting this great place for the Teen Center.”

  “Looks like we might not get the house after all,” Ruby said with a somber shake of her frizzy red curls.

  “You’re kidding!” I exclaimed. “Why? Don’t tell me Mr. Pennyroyal changed his mind at the last minute!”

  “That isn’t exactly what happened,” Jackie said, “but it’s almost as bad.” She looked as if she were about to cry.

  “Well, what is it?” I asked impatiently. “Will somebody please explain?”

  “Mr. Pennyroyal signed his new will just a few days before he died,” Paula said. “He’d been planning to do it for some time, but he’d been pretty sick. The new will replaced the old one, which left the house to somebody else.”

  “So?” I asked, looking from one to the other. “There’s a new will. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is,” Ruby said grimly, “that both of the signed originals have vanished.” She waved her arms. “They’re missing. Kaput. We’ve looked everywhere we can think of, but they’re nowhere to be found.”

  Jackie frowned. “If you ask me,” she said, “somebody took them.”

  “Tell me what happened,” I said. “Jackie, were you there when Mr. Pennyroyal signed his new will?”

  Jackie shook her head. “Mrs. Fisher, his housekeeper, says that the lawyer brought both copies for him to sign. Mrs. Fisher was one of the witnesses. The other was the next-door neighbor, Mrs. Jordan. This happened about a week before Mr. Pennyroyal died.”

  “Why didn’t the lawyer keep at least one of the copies?” I asked. “That’s the way it’s usually done.”

  “That’s what the lawyer suggested,” Ruby replied, “but according to Mrs. Fisher, Mr. Pennyroyal insisted on keeping both copies. He said he planned to show the new will to his sister. He told Mrs. Fisher to put the originals into the top drawer of the desk in the library, where they’d be safe. After he died, the lawyer came over to pick them up. That’s when they were discovered missing.”

  “Why did Mr. Pennyroyal want to show the will to his sister?” I asked.

  “Because she thought she was inheriting the house,” Jackie replied unhappily. “I guess Mr. Pennyroyal felt that he ought to explain why he changed his mind and decided to leave it to the Teen Center. After all, it’s worth quite a bit of money.”

  “Not only that,” Ruby said, “but the house has belonged to the Pennyroyals since it was built. He probably thought she might be upset that it wasn’t going to stay in the family.”

  I sighed. “I hate to ask, but there’s no doubt that Mr. Pennyroyal died a natural death—is there?”

  “No doubt at all,” Ruby said firmly. “Both his doctor and Mrs. Fisher were with him when he died.”

  “Thank goodness,” I said, with some relief. “At least we’re not looking for a killer.”

  “Right,” Jackie said in a dark tone. “Just a thief.”

  Ruby looked at me. “What are we going to do?”

  “We?” I asked.

  “The board would be very grateful if you would help Ruby search for that will,” Jackie said.

  “You can’t say no,” Ruby said. “I’d hate to do this all by myself. I don’t think it will be dangerous, but you never know.”

  “Well, if you put it that way,” I said with a resigned sigh. I picked up my trowel and basket. “I know Hazel Pennyroyal, so I guess we can begin there.”

  “Oh, good,” Jackie said, relieved. “Let me know as soon as you’ve found it.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t you think you’re counting on us just a little too much?”

  “Why, not at all!” Jackie exclaimed. “I’m sure you’ll be successful.” She frowned. “You have to succeed, China. The Teen
Center needs that house.”

  Mr. Pennyroyal’s sister, Hazel, works as a volunteer at the Women’s Crisis Coalition, so I know her slightly. She lives in a comfortable house with a gorgeous garden. As Ruby and I came up the walk, the multicolored daylilies were making an impressive display on both sides, and behind them, in the deep borders, bloomed several different varieties of salvia, including some beautiful Mexican sage in shades of purple and white.

  Hazel Pennyroyal was wearing an apron when she answered the front door. She was a short, plump woman with a fresh-scrubbed face and bright white hair. She recognized me, and I introduced Ruby, as a member of the Teen Center’s board of directors.

  “I’m afraid that we need to talk to you about a rather difficult subject,” I said. “It has to do with your brother’s will.”

  Hazel nodded. “The best place for difficult conversations is the kitchen,” she said firmly, and opened the door wider. “Anyway, I’m making soap and it needs stirring. Come on.”

  “Making soap?” Ruby asked curiously. “Isn’t that a lot of work?”

  “Not the way I do it,” Hazel said. We followed her into the kitchen, where she went to the stove and picked up a spoon to stir something in a saucepan. The whole kitchen smelled of roses. “What’s this about Howard’s will?”

  “I hope you don’t mind our asking about this,” I replied. “We understand that your brother signed a new will a week or so ago.”

  “That’s right,” Hazel said. “Howard decided to leave the house to the Teen Center.” She looked at Ruby. “You surely know that by now, since you’re on the board of directors.”

  Ruby nodded. “You saw the new will?”

  “Howard showed it to me a few days before he died.” Hazel dropped a handful of chopped rose petals into the pan, stirred it again, and turned off the burner. “He wanted to talk to me about the house. Once upon a time, it belonged to both of us, you see. He wanted to be sure I felt comfortable with it not being in the family any longer.”