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Maid Behind the Bar


Published by Jon Burr at Smashwords.

Copyright 2013 Jon Burr


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“Grits.”

“Scrambled eggs.”

“Biscuits.”

Kavan’s brow furrowed.

“Grits?”

James smiled and explained, “They’re made from ground corn. Kinda’ like oatmeal in consistency.”

“Like porridge,” piped in Fiona, the farmer’s wife, as she placed a saucer and mug of Irish coffee in front of each of the men at the table.

Nodding in thanks, James brushed the brown hair out of his face and continued, “Even in some parts of America, there are people who aren’t familiar with grits. And the biscuits I’m referring to aren’t like a cookie. They are fluffy biscuits.”

“Oh, ya’, ya’.”

With his index finger pointing to his hometown of Raleigh on an atlas spread out on the kitchen table, Charlie declared the Southern menu “the traditional North Carolina breakfast.”

The components were quite different from the tomatoes and white and black puddings central to the Irish breakfast that had wakened their spirits in the seaside village of Cobh that morning.

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