Bakesale busy-ness

The first time I went to Bakesale Betty was with Mo. It was quiet that day, we met Betty and Michael, had our stool table set up for us, and got our water poured into little plastic cups for us. Shortbread cookies and lemon squares came our way. We even got a tour of the kitchen. We felt like royalty and I was immediately won over. That was months ago. Since then, I’ve been back whenever I get the chance weekday off, or, in this case, when I take a little holiday because of Jeanne’s visit.

On our walk from our car to Bakesale Betty, we passed the fire station and three firefighters standing around, carrying boxes of Girl Scout cookies. One of the men asked if we were going to Bakesale Betty. And, when we said yes he told us to tell them that he sent us and that we’d get taken care of. They then asked us if we wanted some Girl Scout cookies and were trying to give us boxes, which we refused since I was equally encumbered with Girl Scout cookies at home.

Jeanne and I got there at the perfect time. The small crowd of people I had seen inside as we were driving by the storefront was gone, and we were able to get a trio of stools in the corner, flanked by windows. I placed our order of two fried chicken sandwiches and potato salad to share with a guy who didn’t recognize that I’d been there before, that I’m friends with the mistress chicken fryer herself, that I’m the reason why “sticky love” is written on their containers. But, he was new and he was cute, and, because of that, he could be forgiven.

We got our chicken sandwiches and potato salad, and set up our corner station. Eleanor had piled on a humongous portion of the cole slaw and shreds of cabbage were falling off onto the paper wrapper. The chicken sandwich was just as I remembered it with crispy chicken and crunchy cole slaw with a slight kick of heat from the jalapeños. And, the potato salad this time around didn’t look as formidable as the last when I ordered a side for myself, naively believing that I’d be able to finish it.

As we ate, we watched the crowd around us grow. We now felt trapped in our little corner. People came in, ordered sandwiches, picked up baked treats, and left to let others order sandwiches and pick up baked treats. Throughout all the hurried madness, the Bakesale staff kept their cool, greeted each new face warmly, and made sure everyone had placed their sandwich order. Jeanne and I were the slowest ones of the bunch. The diners around us had come and gone, and we were the only ones who remained at the end of the lunch-time rush, alone again in our quiet corner.