Welcome to The Apple Crate

welcome-to-the-apple-crateOne of the most well-known results of Prohibition was the speakeasy. In total rebellion against the laws meant to curb crime and drinking, speakeasies popped up almost everywhere from 1920 to 1933. According to one article I researched while writing my novel, The Secrets of Dr. John Welles, for every legal saloon operating prior to Prohibition, at least six speakeasies opened after Prohibition. With all that temptation, it was understandable that John and his two best friends, Sam and Claude, would end up in one of the illegal establishments pushing the boundaries of youthful adventure.  Here’s what I discovered while creating The Apple Crate, a speakeasy located below a grocery store owned by a gangster of my inventing, Leo Jenkins.

Like legal establishments and today’s clubs, some speakeasies offered entertainment in the form of singing or jazz bands. Entry into the club required knowledge of a password letting the doorman, often the owner or manager of the club, know that you weren’t law enforcement and to keep the government from finding the location. A personal introduction or presenting of a card may also have been required to ensure security against raids.

The term speakeasy came from a bartending term. To speak easy meant to act casually so as not to draw attention to oneself with quick, nervous behavior when purchasing illegal alcohol. Terms used to conceal the identity of bootleg liquor included coffin varnish, monkey rum, white mule, horse liniment, panther sweat, tarantula juice, and rot gut. Not very appealing names for the barely drinkable booze served, but it didn’t keep people from seeking out alcohol every chance they had.

Speakeasies were also known as a blind pig or blind tiger, but these terms were reserved for lower class establishments. There is debatable history surrounding these names. One story claims that entertainment involving pigs resulted in the first name. People supposedly paid to see the pig and a drink was thrown in for free. Blind tiger was purportedly the name used when the identity of the seller was concealed.

While gaining access to a speakeasy required connections, locating one probably wasn’t as difficult. They were everywhere in America and Canada, usually set up in stores and businesses, operating right next to or within legal establishments. Speakeasies were most common in New York where the famed 21 club had the extra security measure of safety switches meant to short circuit and deny access to all the of the doors that contained alcohol.

Because respectable women weren’t welcome in a public bar prior to Prohibition, many started flocking to speakeasies after the Eighteenth Amendment took effect. These women, easily recognized as flappers, would dance the night away to music performed by jazz bands.

Gangsters were often associated with speakeasies, the most famous being Al Capone, but luckily John and his friends didn’t encounter any during their night out. Hustling illegal liquor was an extremely profitable venture for gangsters, and many became quite wealthy at it. Unfortunately, many regular people also became rich by supplying the demands of thirsty Americans.

Some of the crazier methods of transport included hip flasks, hot water bottles, false books, garden hoses, carriages with babies placed on top, carpenter’s aprons, coconut shells, and in one interesting case, eggs. Supposedly, a creative soul emptied the eggs of their true contents and refilled them with liquor.

The interior of a speakeasy could range from the extremely elegant to an unsophisticated hole-in-the-wall. Depending on the success of a particular speakeasy, drinks might be served in appropriate barware or from chipped mugs. In either case, people ranging from the famous, wealthy, and artistic to the downtrodden streamed to speakeasies during Prohibition. The only thing that went away with the repeal of the Eighteenth Amendment was the crime involved with selling alcohol. Well, most of it anyways.  (See:  By the Light of the Silvery Moon)

Spin to Win

spin-to-winIn December of 1927, Claude Willoughby has been left behind in Maryland as his father, sister, and step-mother return to Kentucky for Christmas. The cruel abandonment is Claude’s punishment for disobeying his father’s directive. Sam Feldman comes to Claude’s rescue by inviting him and their friend, John Welles, over for an after-the-fact Hanukkah celebration. After a meal of brisket and latkes, the boys play dreidel with Sam’s mother, Gladys.

Although the game is meant for children, I know quite a few adults, myself included, who get caught up in playing dreidel every Hanukkah. In fact, we have a tradition that last year’s winner must return to defend his or her title the following year.

The Hebrew word sevivon or s’vivon means to turn around. Dreidel is the Yiddish word for a spinning top. All dreidels have four Hebrew letters on them which stand for the saying Nes gadol haya sham, meaning a great miracle occurred there. In Israel, instead of the fourth letter shin, there is a peh which changes the saying to Nes gadol haya po, a great miracle occurred here.

Playing with the dreidel is a traditional Hanukkah game played in Jewish homes all over the world, and rules may vary. Here’s how to play the basic dreidel game:

  1. Any number of people can take part.
  2. Each player begins the game with an equal number of game pieces (about 10-15) such as pennies, nuts, chocolate chips, raisins, matchsticks, etc. (Our family uses Hershey’s Nuggets which makes winning or losing fun as many of the playing pieces are enjoyed during the game.)
  3. At the beginning of each round, every participant puts one game piece into the center pot. In addition, every time the pot is empty or has only one game piece left, every player should put one in the pot.
  4. Every time it’s your turn, spin the dreidel once. Depending on the outcome, you give or get game pieces from the pot:
  5. Nun means nisht or nothing. The player does nothing.
  6. Gimmel means gantz or everything. The player gets everything in the pot.
  7. Hey means halb or half. The player gets half of the pot. (If there is an odd number of pieces in the pot, the player takes half of the total plus one.)
  8. Shin (outside of Israel) means shtel or put in.  Peh (in Israel) also means put in. The player adds a game piece to the pot. (Our family puts two pieces in.)
  9. If you find that you have no game pieces left, you are either out or may ask a fellow player for a loan. (We’re pretty ruthless for the Dreidel Champion title; once you’re out, you’re out!)
  10. When one person has won everything, that round of the game is over!

For non-Jewish players, we came up with a way to remember what do to for each Hebrew letter:

Nun you get none – don’t do anything

Gimme gimmel – you get the entire pot

Hey means half – you get half the pot plus one if there’s an odd number of pieces

Shin two in – put two game pieces in the pot

Recipe for Disaster

Recipe for DisasterOne of the worst secrets young John Welles will keep reaches its peak by late 1928. Only John isn’t aware of it yet. The secret involves one of his best friends, Claude Willoughby, and the ruthless gangster by whom he is employed, Leo Jenkins.

Leo goes out of his way to make sure Claude suffers at every turn. He does so as a means of getting back at Claude’s father, the true object of Jenkin’s scorn. Bad business dealings put Claude’s father, J.D., at odds with Jenkins, but instead of bearing the brunt of the gangster’s wrath, J.D. offers up Claude as compensation by suggesting his son work for the man. Claude’s loathing of Leo cannot be suppressed during one of their encounters as the gangster eats a meal of sausage and potatoes, and it costs him dearly.

When I wrote the scene, I pictured kielbasa-style sausage and fried potatoes. I don’t have the kitchen equipment required to make sausage, but I’m sure there are many delicious recipes on the Internet. Also, you could consider kielbasa from a local butcher or even a well-known brand. Sliced fried potatoes are easy and delicious, and they complement the sausage. Add some grainy brown mustard, and you have a meal fit for a man as coarse as Leo Jenkins.

Fried Potatoes

Russet potatoes (about 3 inches long)

Peanut oil (Whoever made the potatoes for Leo Jenkins probably would have used lard or butter, but I’m suggesting peanut oil because I love the way it crisps whatever you fry in it.)

Sea salt

I recommend about three potatoes per person. Scrub the potato skins under water with a soft brush to remove excess dirt and eyes. Place the potatoes in a large pot and fill with enough cold water to cover your quantity of potatoes. Bring the water to a boil. Time the potatoes for five minutes and test for doneness with a sharp knife. You should be able to pierce them without resistance, but do not cook them to a soft or mushy state. Boil for another five minutes only if necessary.

Drain the potatoes and allow them to cool on a cutting board. After cooling, you can refrigerate them for use within two days or you can slice them to fry immediately.

Heat the peanut oil in a cast iron skillet over a medium-high to high heat. The surface will ripple and the oil pop. Drop in one potato to test. If the oil sizzles, it’s ready. Place the sliced potatoes in one layer in the skillet and cook until golden brown. You will need to cover them while they cook. Flip and repeat on the other side.

Remove the potatoes with a slotted spoon and transfer to a paper towel-lined platter. Keep the platter in a warmed oven as you cook. Repeat with remaining potatoes. Season the potatoes with salt in between the layers. Serve hot with the kielbasa and brown mustard.

Enjoy!

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