Stay Out of the Kitchen!: An Albertina Merci Novel - Softcover

John, Mable; Ritz, David

 
9780767921664: Stay Out of the Kitchen!: An Albertina Merci Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0767921666 ISBN 13: 9780767921664
Verlag: Crown, 2007

Inhaltsangabe

Albertina Merci is back in this delightful second book featuring everyone’s favorite blues singer turned evangelist!

After Albertina’s dear friend Mr. Mario, the owner of Mr. Mario’s Downhome Café, has a heart attack and then loses his wife to diabetes, he decides that his lifetime love of soul food is over for good. Mr. Mario vows to go healthy, both personally and professionally, and tries to get Albertina on board, but it quickly becomes clear that he may be looking for more than pastoral support. And while he is undeniably romantic, Mr. Mario believes in the power of man…not God.

The only heat isn’t in the kitchen, though. Clifford Bloom, a white DJ who has been a fan of Albertina’s since her days as a blues singer, is now a member of her church and he always seems to be there just when Albertina needs him. Could this blossoming friendship be leading somewhere romantic?

Caught between two very different men, Pastor Merci also has to battle to save her little church in the heart of Los Angeles as mega-church pastor Bishop Gold wants not only the land where her church sits, but her nephew Patrick’s loyalty, as well.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

MABLE JOHN was the first female recording artist for Motown. She was the lead “Raelette” for Ray Charles from 1968–1976 and a solo artist for Stax/Volt. She’s now an ordained minister with a doctorate in counseling. Dr. John lives in Los Angeles. DAVID RITZ is an award-winning music writer. He lives in Los Angeles.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Mr. Mario’s Downhome Café


The fluffy scrambled eggs, the buttered toast, the crisp bacon and homefries on the side smell mighty good. I’m feeling mighty good being served this beautiful platter of food by Mr. Mario himself. Meanwhile, though, I’ve got stuff on my mind—my nephew Patrick, a minister in our church, is torn up because he broke up with Naomi, a black woman rabbi he met back when they were both undergraduates at Harvard. And my son, Andre, is about to marry Nina, an actress and model I don’t trust.

All this is to explain why Mr. Mario’s fluffy eggs, attentive service, and radiant smile mean so much to me. Mario is not a smiling man, but this morning he’s happy because I gave him a copy of Jet magazine from back in the seventies with him on the cover.

“Lord, have mercy, Albertina,” he says, “where in heaven’s name did you find this thing?”

“Baby,” I reply, “I’m going to pray before this delicious food gets cold. Then I’ll tell you. You’re always welcome to pray with me.”

“Gotta tend to the grill. Give my best regards to that God of yours. Tell him He’s doing a helluva job maintaining world peace and harmony among the races.”

I ignore Mr. Mario’s cynicism—I’ve known the man for years—and pray. Father, I just love You, I just worship You, I just thank You for being the God that You are. I thank You for the chance to relax this morning and reflect on all that is good in my life. Father, You are what is good in my life. I pray for peace, Father, especially for those who have no peace, for those who don’t know You, for those who struggle with temptation and doubt. Grant my son, Andre, wisdom and clarity. Grant me the strength to pray for Nina, my daughter–in–law–to–be. May my own prejudices be lifted. Deepen my understanding so that, like Jesus, I can meet people where they are, accept them as they are, love them as they are, and help them as You help me. I pray all this in the precious name of Jesus, Amen.

Just as I’m about to take my first bite of egg, in walks Justine, my forever friend. I can’t say I’m thrilled to see her—I was looking forward to a meal by myself—but I’m not about to hurt her by telling her so. Justine’s been through a lot lately. I should know. As her next–door neighbor, I hear every detail of her roller–coaster love life. Whoever invented the term “Drama Queen” was thinking of Justine.

Justine’s wearing a large tent dress adorned with drawings of oversized sunflowers. The design makes her look even larger than she is. She seats herself at my table.

“I didn’t know you were having breakfast here this morning, Albertina,” she says. “How come you didn’t invite me to come along?”

“It was a spur–of–the–moment thing, sweetheart,” I say. “I didn’t know myself until I drove by and decided to stop. I’d been at the hospital visiting parishioners.”

“What time you get there?”

“Six a.m.”

“That’s just about the time I was seeing Johnny Marbee to the door. Have I told you about Johnny?”

“Is he the man who works with you at Target?”

“The very same. And girlfriend, he was sure working with me last night.”

I shake my head in wonder. Justine is incorrigible.

“Nothing builds up an appetite like some good old–fashioned lovemaking,” she says.

“You were talking about a diet last week,” I say, changing the subject. I never know what’s going to come out of Justine’s mouth.

"I’m starting that Palm Beach plan tomorrow. So today is my last day before going to Starvation City.”

“What’s the Palm Beach plan?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but all the Hollywood stars are doing it. It has to work ‘cause they have to look good for the movies. I got the book. Gonna read it tonight. After dessert.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“No laughing matter,” says Justine. “Doctor Foster says I got to deal with my weight before it deals with me.”

“Baby,” I say, “I know it’s serious, and I’m behind whatever program you take on. I’m here to help and encourage you. Wasn’t laughing at you, sugar. I was laughing with you.”

“Where is that fool Mr. Mario? I’m dying for French toast and a side of bacon. Doesn’t that man make a mean French toast?”

“Mr. Mario is the Sam Cooke of the pots and pans,” I say. “He’s the maestro, and his dad was a chef too. Fact is, his dad also owned a restaurant. He was Italian.”

“How long has the Downhome Cafe been here?”

“He opened up just after he was put off that TV show,” I say. “That had to be 1975 ‘cause I just gave him a copy of Jet with him on the cover from 1974 talking about his final episode. I found it at home in an old trunk.”

“They’re still playing that show in reruns. You’d think he’d have enough money so he wouldn’t have to cook.”

“Well, that’s a long story,” I say. “He’s never told it to you?”

“I’m not that crazy about the man. I don’t ask him any questions. I eat his smothered steak—he can put a hurting on smothered steak—but I don’t like him. The man’s always angry.”

“He got burned bad,” I explain.

“In the kitchen?” she asks.

“No, by that show. He was the star of the show but never owned a piece of it. He says the producers cheated him bad. Says he could have been a millionaire many times over had they treated him fairly.”

“The character he played on the show is the same character he plays up in here. He always has an attitude,” says Justine.

“He had an attitude on Stay Out of the Kitchen ‘cause he was a black cook feeding a family of uptight white folk. That was the humor.”

“Didn't they use your song ‘Stay Out of the Kitchen’ as the theme of the show?”

“They did. I wrote it a little before I wrote ‘Sanctified Blues.’ But it never made any money till they turned it into a sitcom theme song. Then it made me a whole lot of money. That’s when I first met Mr. Mario. He was the only one in the cast who knew the song when it was floating around the bottom of the R&B charts. He loves the old music.”

“The brother is light enough to pass. Looks to me like they darkened Mario’s skin to make him look blacker on TV.”

“They did,” I say. “That’s another reason he doesn’t have good feelings about show business.”

“So why does he take it out on his customers?”

“Well, he’s sweet to me,” I say.

“Everyone’s sweet to you, Albertina. You make them that way.”

“Sweet Jesus is the one who makes them that way.”

“I’m just looking for that sweet French toast. Mr. Mario!” Justine shouts. “Can I put in my order?”

“Hold your horses!” he yells from the grill.

The Downhome Café is a small place, just four booths and a counter, and Mario Pani services it all himself. In my view, Mr. Mario loves cooking and especially loves cooking for his own people. On...

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Verlag
Crown
Erscheinungsdatum
2007
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0767921666
ISBN 13 
9780767921664
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
256
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
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gpsr@libri.de

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