Gay May Wine Project with Rhubarb:
Prairie Death Vignettes: Volume 3 of P. D. T.
by Courtland Wade
Stepping away from our main story briefly, we offer a selection from Prairie Death Tales, Volume 3, a collection of vignettes that fades into its background as the edges of its reality are softened away: moments of life that matter. Prairie Death Vignettes are short, short stories that feature the usual Oklahoma setting and the usual cast of characters, but they constitute an interlude in the plot development of the ongoing murder mysteries.
“Come along, J. J.,” said Michael Legge, “Let Randy tend the shop. These good people want to see our Gay May Wine Project.”
John J. Waters followed along as Michael led the two couples, one young and one older into a potting shed behind the Between the Lines Bookstore. . Once inside the shed, John J. opened a wooden cask and let them look at and smell what was inside.
“Twenty five pounds of rhubarb,” Michael said, “should give us about 5 gallons of wine. John and I gathered it ourselves. We crushed it with rollers, rinsed and strained it. It’s curing in the cask with sugar, fermenting now.”
“Is it really that simple?” asked the younger man.
“Not much to it. But if you want a clearer liquid, you don’t even mash it. But we love the color when the stem pieces are crushed.”
“When will it be ready?” the older woman wanted to know.
“Oh, we will rack it down, as they say, with a siphon a couple of times later in the year to get rid of sediment, but it won’t really be ready to drink until about this time next year,” Michael told her. “Next May. It needs to sit, mostly undisturbed, for about twelve months. When it’s done, we’ll have a party. We can drink a rhubarb cup, sprinkled with dogwood petals.”
“Do you add actual wine?”
“Not required, but yes we do. The wine, John — what all is in the May wine?”
“Apple juice seasoned with sprigs of sweet woodruff. White wine, preferably Riesling, uh, brandy, champagne.”
“Then you add strawberries,” Michael continued enthusiastically, “fruit and leaves, pour it over a block of ice, and scatter with red bud or rose petals. It’s fabulous … exhilarating even”
“Woodruff put into wine to make man merry and to be good for the heart and liver: it prevaileth in wounds,” said John J., quoting Gerard.
“I’m sure it makes them merry,” said the younger woman with a twinkle in her eye, “but doth it make them gay?”
“Oh, I think we can say that dependeth upon the individual.” replied John J.
As the little group broke into warm-hearted laughter, the older man turned to glare directly at John J: “That really isn’t a laughing matter, homosexuality is a perversion that God hates.”
After a moment of shocked silence, the entire group responded to the older man with another round of laughter, devoid now of its previous warmth.
Grabbing her by the hand, the older man literally pulled his wife from the little gardening shed.
Late the next morning as John Waters unlocked the front door to his store, he was surprised to see the older woman from the day before waiting patiently. Without a word, she walked straight to the cookbook section, swept an entire shelf of books into her arms, and walked triumphantly to the cash register.
The woman smiled pleasantly at J.J. saying: “You’ll notice I’m using my husband’s card,” as the register recorded a sale of $167.91.
“Formidable! Madam, it is truly a pleasure to serve you. And you’ll notice that I have made you a gift of this first edition of Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking in its original 1961 covers.”
As John walked the woman to her car setting the books on the back seat, he smiled again, saying “Please do come and see us again at the book store.”
“I most assuredly will,” she responded.
Don’t miss the other short stories that make up Volume 3 of Prairie Death Tales.
*Courtland Wade is the pen name of a writing collaboration between Court Atchinson and Wade Chambers.
