Chapter 13 13. Spring on the menu

Chapter One It's a March day. If you're going to write a story, don't start it that way.There is nothing worse than this kind of beginning.It begins so unimaginatively, flatly, as if it were mere gossip.But here it is barely enough, for the following passage, which should have been used at the beginning of the story, is simply too grotesque to bewilder the unprepared reader. Sara was crying over the menu. Just imagine, a New York girl is crying over a recipe! To illustrate the point, you would guess that maybe there were no oysters on the menu, maybe she had sworn never to eat ice cream during Lent again, maybe she asked for onions, maybe she just came out of Hackett's daytime reception.However, such conjectures of yours are wrong, let me go on with the story.

The gentleman who announced that the world was an oyster which he with his sword would open made a larger hit than he deserved.Opening an oyster with a knife isn't too difficult, but have you ever seen anyone try to open a terrestrial oyster with a typewriter?And who likes waiting for a dozen live oysters to be ripped apart like this? Sarah used a very clumsy weapon to pry open the shell of the world, and tasted a little bit of the innards of this cold and slippery world.If she had been thrown into the world as a business school shorthand major, she no longer knew shorthand.Therefore, since she could not do shorthand, she could not get into the offices of the brilliant geniuses and had to become a freelance typist, running around looking for odd typing jobs to make ends meet.

Sarah's most glorious and culminating feat in battling the world was a deal with Schulenberg's Family Restaurant.The restaurant is next door to an old red brick building where she lives.Sarah took this with her one night after eating a forty-cent, five-course meal at the restaurant (as fast as you throw five baseballs at Mr. Negro's head). menu.The words on the menu are handwritten, neither English nor German, almost unrecognizable, if you don’t look carefully, you will see the menu upside down, you will see the knife and rice pudding first, and the soup and Day of the week. The next day, Sarah showed Schulenberg a card, a neatly typed menu, with the names of the dishes seductively arranged in the right place, from tapas to coats and umbrellas, Take care of each other.

Schulenberg made the decision on the spot, and the two sides happily signed the agreement before Sarah left.Sarah is in charge of making menus for twenty-one tables in the restaurant, and every day a new menu is made for dinner.If the breakfast and lunch changes, make a new copy, or if the menu gets dirty, make another copy. As a reward, Schulenberg sent someone to deliver three meals to Sarah's room every day, and sent a menu draft written in pencil every afternoon. Meals prepared by customers. Both parties are satisfied with the agreement.Patrons of Schulenberg's family restaurants now know the names of the dishes they eat, even if the nature of the dishes sometimes confuses them.As for Sarah, it was very important for her to have something to eat in the cold and dreary winter.

Later, the calendar is lying, saying that spring has arrived.Spring always comes when it should come.In January, the snow on the street is still frozen hard, and the accordion on the street is still playing "In the Good Summer", and the movements and expressions of the performers are exactly the same as in December.The men began to keep a thirty-day record in order to buy clothes for Easter.The caretaker turned on the heater again.Whenever this happens, people know that the city is still under the control of winter. One afternoon Sarah was shivering in her elegant hall bedroom. The house is heated, immaculately cleaned, and equipped with every convenience, which is to be envied.She never had a job other than punching Schulenberg's menu.Sarah sat in a squeaky wicker rocker and looked out the window.The calendar on the wall kept yelling at her that spring was coming, Sarah spring was coming, I was sure of it.Look at me, Sarah, my numbers are clear.You are well-proportioned and handsome, Sara, with the air of youth.Why do you look out of the window so sadly?

Sarah's room was at the back of the building, and her window looked out over the windowless rear brick wall of a box factory in the next street.But to Sara the wall was crystal clear, and she saw a grassy path hidden among cherry and elm trees, and bordered by raspberry bushes and golden cherry blossoms. Human eyes and ears are most sensitive to the signs of spring.The crocus in bloom, the dogwood inflorescences, the bluebirds singing, even the farewell handshake of the coy buckwheat and oysters before welcoming the lady in green into their arms are enough reminders that spring is here.The most believable sign, however, was the direct and beautiful message from his bride that they would never be alone again unless they wanted to.

Last summer Sarah went to the country and fell in love with a farmer. (Don't write the story backwards like this. It's a poor technique that kills the fun of the story. Go ahead.) Sarah spent two months at Sunnybrook Farm, where she gradually fell in love with Walter, the son of old farmer Franklin.Originally, it didn't take long for farmers to go from falling in love to getting married, just like grazing, but the young Walter.Franklin was a new kind of agronomist.With a phone in his cattle pen, he can calculate exactly how next year's Canadian wheat production will affect his painstakingly grown potatoes.

It was on this shady lane surrounded by raspberries that Walter proposed to her and won her love.They sat together and wove a dandelion wreath on Sarah's head.He admired the effect of the yellow dandelion flowers on her brown hair; she had been walking back to the apartment wearing the flower crown and waving a straw hat. Walter said they would be married next spring, as soon as spring began.Later, Sarah returned to the city to type away. A knock on the door pulled Sara back from her dream of a happy life, and the waiter brought her a draft of the menu written in pencil by old Schulenberg's skinny hands, for tomorrow's use in the restaurant.

Sarah went to the typewriter and sat down, rolling a card onto the drum.She is dexterous, and under normal circumstances, within one and a half hours, twenty-one menu cards can be finished. On today's menu, there are far more moving items than usual.Various soup dishes are lighter; pork is omitted from the main course, and it only appears in roast meat with Russian turnips.The breath of spring pervades the entire recipe.The lamb that recently romped on the green hills will be brought to the table with condiments that remember its frolic.The singing of the oysters, though not yet dead, was no longer noticeable.The frying pan seemed to be stowed and useless, in the back of the broiler.The variety of pies has greatly increased; the greasy pudding has disappeared altogether; the garnished sausages are only dying, mixed with buckwheat and sugar, with a doomed pale brown color.

Sarah's fingers danced over the typewriter like bugs on a summer brook.She arranged them carefully from top to bottom, arranging them in appropriate positions according to the length of the names of various dishes. Various vegetables are right in front of the sweet treats.Carrots and peas, roasted asparagus, perennial yams, grains and beans boiled fresh corn, lima beans, cabbage then Chapter two Sarah wept over the menu, tears welling up in the sockets of her eyes from the depths of her despairing heart.Her head hung down on the typewriter stand, and the dull sound of the keyboard was accompanied by her tearful sobs.

Sarah hadn't heard from Walter in two weeks, and the next item on the menu happened to be dandelions and eggs of whatever order!Dandelion, Walter is the crown of golden flowers of dandelion, to crown his queen of love and future bride Dandelion, the messenger of spring, her sad crown, the witness of her happiest days. Ma'am, I'm sure you're laughing, unless you've been put to the test yourself.The night you gave your heart to him, Percy bought you Marrachel.Neil's roses, what do you think of these roses mixed with French dressing in a salad in front of you at Schulenberg's table?If Juliet knew that her love was being profaned, she would immediately go to the drugstore to buy poison. However, how wonderful spring is!There must be messages coming to this great cold city of stone and steel.Who else but the timidly brave little field messengers in their shaggy green coats will bear the message of spring?He fights for luck, as French chefs call him the lion's tooth.When the dandelion was in bloom, he was woven into a corolla, and coiled on the girl's dark brown hair to accomplish good deeds; and when the dandelion was strong and fresh, before blooming, he ran into the boiling kettle and brought the message to his mistress. After a while, Sarah fought back tears.The menu must be typed out in advance.But she was still in the trance of dandelion dreams, her fingers mechanically pressed the keys of the typewriter, and her mind and heart had already flown to the meadow path to stay with her young peasants.Soon, she was scurrying back down the stone streets of Manhattan, and the typewriter was rattling away again, like a vibrating car. At six o'clock the waiter brought her dinner and took away the typed menu.At mealtimes, she put a side dish of dandelions and pips.Her hopes of summer withered and died as the black thing changed from a glorious flower of love to a despicable dish.As Shakespeare said, love can support itself, but Sarah can't make herself eat this delicious food made of dandelions. This is the first spiritual feast for the beloved! At half-past seven, the couple next door started arguing; the man in the upstairs room tried to play the key of A on his flute; the gas went down; the three coal trucks started unloading and only the sound of the gramophone was enviable; Mickton retreated.From these signs, Sarah knew it was time to read.She pulls out one of the best-selling books of the month, The Priory and the Family, puts her feet up on the case, and begins roaming with Gerard. The bell at the front door rang, and the landlady answered it, and Sarah put down Gerard and Dennis, who had been uprooted by the bear, and listened.Ah, yes; if you would be like Sarah! Then there was a loud bang from the hall below, and Sara jumped up to open the door, and the book fell to the floor, evidently the bear's first bout. you guessed right.When Sarah ran to the stairs, her farmer was running up the stairs three steps at a time, and put her in his arms, so that the gleaners could not pick up anything. why don't you write?Oh why?Sarah said aloud. New York is a big city, Walter.Franklin said, I came to you at the old address a week ago.I found out you left there on Thursday.It sort of gave me a little consolation to rule out the terrible bad luck of Black Friday.However, that didn't stop me from looking for you through the police and other channels! I wrote you a letter!Sarah said passionately. Never received it at all! How did you find me then? The young farmer smiled happily. I happened to stop by the family restaurant next door this evening, he said, I don't care if it's famous or not; I like greens this time of year.My eyes flicked across the beautifully typed menu, looking for some greens to eat.I saw the underside of the cabbage, turned over the chair, and called the boss.He told me you live here. I remember, Sara sighed happily, and there were dandelions under the cabbage. I know that the capital letter W on your typewriter, no matter where it is typed, is always slightly higher and not on the same line. Why, there's no W in the word dandelion, Sarah said in amazement. The young man took the menu out of his pocket and pointed to a line. Sarah recognized it. It was the first card she typed that afternoon, and there was still a trail of a tear in the right corner.Moreover, where the name of a vegetable should have been, the memory of the golden-yellow flower caused her fingers to press other keys by mistake. Between red cabbage and peeled green peppers there is this one: Dear Walter and hard boiled eggs.