Angelou - Hallelujah! The Welcome Table: a Lifetime of Memories with Recipes

Now the truth is evident: Poet and literary legend Maya Angelou is as mighty with her spoon and spatula as she is with her world-renowned pen.

Chicago Sun-Times

Hallelujah! The Welcome Tablea cookbook in a sense that there are recipesis the poets life laid out like a colorful banquet.

Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

Warning: Dont read Maya Angelous new book while hungry. This cookbook is a tour-de-force collaboration of two of Angelous major passionswriting and cooking.

Ebony

Readers of this book will find not only a wealth of dishes that will allow them to set aside their own problems and to procrastinate by whipping up cakes, pies and fried chicken, but a close-up, personal glimpse of a compelling writer and her family.

New York Daily News

Poet Maya Angelou serves up a feast for lovers of food and great stories an evocative work.

San Francisco Chronicle

It is not surprising when a culinary life is played out in the pages of a book with recipes. But when the life of a poet-autobiographer, already revealed through verse and narrative, comes even more alive through plumes of aromas, a palette of flavors and a recipe box of memories, a cookbook is something else.

Seattle Post-Intelligencer

Hallelujah! The Welcome Table is more than a collection of printed recipes its a humorous and poignant memoir graced by good food.

El Paso Times

Autobiography

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Gather Together in My Name

Singin and Swingin and Gettin Merry Like Christmas

The Heart of a Woman

All Gods Children Need Traveling Shoes

A Song Flung Up to Heaven

Essays

Wouldnt Take Nothing for
My Journey Now

Even the Stars Look Lonesome

Poetry

Just Give Me a Cool Drink
of Water fore I Diiie

Oh Pray My Wings Are
Gonna Fit Me Well

And Still I Rise

Shaker, Why Dont You Sing?

I Shall Not Be Moved

On the Pulse of Morning

Phenomenal Woman

The Complete Collected Poems
of Maya Angelou

A Brave and Startling Truth

Amazing Peace

Mother

Celebrations

Childrens Books

My Painted House,
My Friendly Chicken, and Me

Kofi and His Magic

Picture Books

Now Sheba Sings the Song

Life Doesnt Frighten Me

Dedication

I dedicate this book to every wannabe cook
who will dare criticism by getting into the kitchen
and stirring up some groceries.

To O, who said she wanted a big, pretty cookbook.
Well, honey, here you are.

Acknowledgments

To all the great cooks whose food I have eaten and whose recipes I have read and whose stories I have heard. My thanks to Bettie Burditte, Patricia Casey, Frances Berry, Sterling Baker, and Rosa Johnson Butler, who helped me at all hours for months to compile the recipes. I am proud that frustration did not cause them to move abroad and change their names. I thank my entire family for trusting me in the kitchen. And a salute to Brian Lanker, who helped me see clearly the images of foods that were becoming fuzzy in my memory.

Heres to Brian Daigle, who drove my bus so steadily across the U.S.A. that Lydia Stuckey and I could cook everything from baked acorn squash to zucchini gratine.

A salute to Chef Don McMillan, who, at the drop of a toque, stepped in and helped me tremendously.

Thank you all.

Maya Angelou

Contents

M Y GRANDMOTHER , who my brother, Bailey, and I called Momma, baked lemon meringue pie that was unimaginably good. My brother and I waited for the pie. We yearned for it, longed for it. Bailey even hinted and dropped slightly veiled suggestions about it, but none of his intimations hastened its arrival. Nor could anything he said stave off the story that came part and parcel with the pie.

Bailey would complain, Momma, you told us that story a hundred times or We know what happened to the old woman and Momma, can we just have the pie? (Momma always ignored his attempts to prevent her from telling the tale.) But if we wanted Mommas lemon meringue pie, we had to listen to the story:

There was an old woman who had made it very clear that she loved young men. Everyone in town knew where her interests lay so she couldnt get any local young men to come to her house. Old men had to be called to clean out her chimney or fix her roof or mend her fences. She learned to count on finding young strangers who were traveling through the area.

One Sunday morning there was a new young man in church sitting alone. Mrs. Townsend saw him and as soon as the last hymn was sung, before anyone else could reach him, she rushed over to his bench.

Morning, Im Hattie Townsend. Whats your name?

George Wilson, maam.

She frowned a little.

Anybody get to you?

No, maam. I dont know anyone here. Just passed by, saw the church, and stopped in. He had used the word maam out of courtesy.

She was all smiles again. Well, then Im inviting you, and I am a good cook, to my house for Sunday dinner. I have my own chickens and two cows, so my chickens are fresh and my butter is rich. I live in walking distance. Here is my address; come around this afternoon around three oclock.

She patted him on the shoulder and left the church. A few young men from the congregation rushed over. Mrs. Townsend invited you for dinner? Yes.