June 2007

Notes from the Old Noank Jail by Ed Johnson

Aunt Clara, Revisited

Years ago, “old timers” may remember articles in the COMPASS and the DAY written by one Beatrice Andrews of Noank. She wrote about her children growing up, her husband’s love of gadgets and his brother’s double decker London Bus that arrived for a “brief visit” and ended up parked in their driveway for over 5 years because of “mechanical difficulties.” Sadly, Bea passed away some years later but the stories she wrote still linger in our memories. One of these concerned a lady many of us knew who had developed an unusual flair for the “culinary arts” and is referred to here as “Aunt Clara.” Her husband (and frequent culinary victim) shall be named “Uncle Wilbur.”

As the story goes, both Clara and Wilbur loved the ocean and Wilbur was already a competent sailor. On their honeymoon aboard their new catboat back in the ’30’s, they were hungry for lunch and managed to “obtain” lobsters from the ocean (are we all familiar with the now frowned upon custom of pulling up someone else’s traps and exchanging a bottle of wine for the lobsters?). Naturally, Clara wanted to impress Wilbur with her abilities as a chef, so she proceeded below decks to boil his lobster while Wilbur stayed at the helm. With great pride, Clara emerged on deck and said, “Here you are, dearie,” presenting Wilbur with his plate of boiled lobster, as he beamed with anticipation.

However, to Wilbur’s dismay, only the rear section of the lobster had been properly boiled. The front section was still quite lively and had other plans as the creature proceeded to scuttle off the plate and drop to the deck of the boat. It turned out that the only cooking vessel Clara had found was a small, upright coffee pot.

Clara was also fond of entertaining guests on short notice, sometimes with blissful disregard for any lack of food or refreshment in her home. She enjoyed talking with people and felt good conversation was the more important aspect…food was secondary. Wilbur had become slightly numb by the time my wife and I were invited to have our wedding shower at their home in 1969. Clara made us open all the presents at the party, including three cheese fondue sets in a row (“oh, how nice, another fondue set”). After the party, everyone was supposed to leave (Wilbur had closed the bar) so Clara and Wilbur could enjoy their steak dinner in peace. Clara would have none of it and she insisted that four of us stay and have dinner with them. “Oh, goody,” growled Wilbur, “dinner for six with food for two,” but no one could refuse Clara.

We all tried to ignore the fact that there wasn’t enough food for everyone, which was difficult, because Wilbur would occasionally interject with caustic remarks.
“Clara, where is my steak?” “Look under the potato, dearie.” “Where’s the potato?” Or, ” Ed, you still look like you’re pretty hungry. Here, have another pea.”

Perhaps the most notable Clara culinary creation occurred when, again on short notice, she invited a group of people for impromptu hors d’oeuvres at her home one evening. She ducked into the kitchen, opened the nearest can from the pantry, spread the contents on some crackers and whisked the hors d’oeuvres around the room. The guests nibbled away with delight until, unfortunately, one of them discovered the empty can of catfood on the kitchen counter.

The party ended abruptly, but the memory of Aunt Clara lives on.