Mrs. Estelle's Place

by Fritz Pielert, 2006

It was a hot summer day in West Ocean City. Me and a couple of my friends, Eltee and Charles, were riding our bikes down the road. It was just about lunchtime. As we passed this one shanty, I smelled the most wonderful smell, FOOD, and it was close by. I asked Charles what was cookin? He said, “Oh, that’s Mrs. Estelle’s place. She’s cookin soul food. I said, “In that place?” He said, “Sure, it’s a soul food place fool.” He looked at me like I was crazy. He then said, “Let’s go eat.” That’s all it took for me. It was a small place. Most would have mistaken it for someone’s house with an old white picket fence in need of paint and repair. The walkway was made of red brick with grass growing through the cracks. Steps led up to a screen door that had an open sign on it. As we opened the door I could here the sound of laughter and voices. As the door closed in back of us, a raspy voice greeted us. “Hello boys. Come on in and sit down.” Estelle was an old black lady with black rimmed glasses. She was short and her hair was gray and held in place by an old nylon stocking. She was standing in back of a counter. There were about five small tables placed in the open room. There were two other doors in the shanty. One led to the bathroom and the other was Mrs. Estelle’s living quarters. The whole house was about twenty feet square. Estelle looked at us and said, “Lord boys, don’t you all sit at my table lookin like the cat drug ya in .You go and wash up, then we talk business.” So Eltee and me hopped to the bathroom and washed up and came in and sat at the counter. Charles said that he had to run some errands for Mr. Josh up the road and that he would catch up to us later. Estelle was at the stove tending two pots that were just a steamin. I looked around the kitchen and dining area and saw that the floor was swept clean. On the wall were some pictures of Martin Luther King and John F. Kennedy. The tables each had a salt and peppershaker on them and to give them some color a small vase of artificial flowers. There were curtains on the windows and a fly tape hung in the corner from the ceiling. I bet there were a hundred flies stuck on that rascal. Then, Mrs. Estelle said, “Well boys I got the best today. Would ya have a plate?” And before I could answer, Eltee said, “Sure would Mrs. Estelle.” And I guess that was good for me too. As Estelle was busy getting the plates, another man walked in the door and sat down at the table in the corner. I gave him a glance and looked him over good. He was as black as tar and had a smile that revealed a mouth of missing teeth. The sweat was dripping down his face and he sat half slumped in the seat. All of a sudden he broke into song. I couldn’t make out a word. Eltee looked at me and said, “Don’t worry bout that fool, dats just Gilly.” Mrs.Estell turned to us with our lunch and said, “Boys just go over to the cooler chest and get you a drink.” Eltee was already half there and asked if I wanted a Neihi orange or Grape soda. I said, “Coke for me.” On the way back he stopped at the beam that was holding up the ceiling. On it was a bottle opener and he popped open our drinks. He then sat back down and we looked over our platter of food. It smelled wonderful. There was roast beef, greens, rice and a small yam. The rice had brown gravy on it. Boy we dug in. As we ate, Mrs. Estelle slipped from behind the counter and headed for Gilly. Eltee said, “You can look out now.” And just as he said it Estelle lit into Gilly. “Gilly!” she said, “I want you to get your drunk, no singin self right outta here.” And Gilly said, “Estelle, you know I don’t sing that good but I can dance. Let’s dance.” And with that, Mrs. Estelle grabbed Gilly by the ear and led him out the front door. After we finished our lunch we were sitting at the counter drinking our drinks. Mrs. Martha, Estelle’s sister was pulling a sweet potato pie out of the oven.” Now boys when this cools off yalls welcome to a slice. Just come back when you ready”. So Tee and me went out the door and was walking to our bikes. I said, “That was the best roast beef I ever had”. Eltee just started to laugh at me, almost falling down in tears. I said, “What the hell is so funny Tee?” “That wasn’t Beef fool it was coon like in raccoon.” “I knew that” I said .I jumped on my bike and headed for my house and Eltee rode up to his house because he had to take care of his brothers and sisters till his mom got off at six. This was my first exposure to soul food. It was just the beginning of the many new and fun things that would fill my life with all the memories of food and people that has made my life so diverse.

Mrs. Estelle’s Place

This story took place around 1965. Estelle’s place was located on what was then Old State Rd. It was later changed to Old Bridge Rd. My family has lived at the end of Old Bridge Rd. full time since 1963. We lived here ever since I was a baby off and on. We commuted back and forth from Baltimore until my mother’s transfer came full time to the eastern shore as she worked for the Pennsylvania railroad. So that makes me about 10 yrs old at the time. Mrs. Estelle’s last name was Kitt and her sister’s name was Martha Campbell. Mrs. Martha and Mrs. Estelle ran the small eatery until around 1968 or 69 when the property owner which was John Dale Showell decided not to renew the rental contract I guess. Also, the time had come when things were changing and the whole character of the neighborhood was changing also and its time had come to an end .My buddies in the story were Eltee Shockley, Charles Shockley and Ernest Shockley. The old timers in the neighborhood nicknamed them Shadrack, Meshack and Abendego from the bible. Many a fine meal was turned out and served on the crisp white cotton table cloths. The food was as distinctive of the eastern shore as were the fine ladies that cooked and served it. My friend Gilly, also known as Gilmore Purnell, died in 2006 after working at Trimper’s rides for 51 years. August 2, 2006 I met with Eltee so he could read this story. As he read, tears came to his eyes and he gave me a big hug. As we embraced, he told me he had terminal cancer. Life certainly has its twists doesn’t it? I told him the only thing we take with us is our memories. For us they are golden. Now million dollar homes have taken the place of all the small houses, shanties and naborhood stores that was the fabric of my childhood life. I liken it to a train. When we first got on the train was slow and you could take in all that passed. Now the train of time is moving so fast that it seems to pull me to the back of the train and what goes by is a blur. I hope the back door of the train is locked.