Our State/May/Tar Heel People/1,275 words with sidebar

By Ralph Grizzle

Folks don't come to Asheville's Hot Shot Café just to eat. They come to be entertained. And if they come on a weekend, entertainment is just what they'll get.

The showstopper is a spry 74-year-old who takes center stage when she dons her apron and old-fashioned bloomers. Her name is Alma Allen, and she's a mix of the Grand Ole Opry's Minnie Pearl ("How-dee!" Alma greets her guests) and Looney Tunes' character Roadrunner (she sprints about as if Wile E Coyote were after her). And for the past 15 years, she has kept things hopping at the Hot Shot.

We caught up with Alma one morning as she was taking a break to apply a blot of lipstick across her lips. Even that gesture fails to go unremarked upon. "My momma used to say that any old barn looks better with a little paint," she says. Then, noticing my 4-year-old daughter wearing earrings, Alma draws her hands to her hips and says, "Well, honey, you're just the top knot billy in the comb of red." (The comb of red refers to a rooster's crown.)

While the pace here can be frenetic on weekend mornings, Alma keeps everyone amused with her cornball wit. When a young man compliments her for keeping his coffee cup filled, she says: "You're so sweet honey. You're not from around here, are you? You must have fell off the train. I thought I heard someone fall off on the tracks."

While providing her running commentary, Alma pours water, coffee, juice and Pepsi; hands out menus, forks, knives and spoons; distributes bowls of gravy; and balances armfuls of plates laden with biscuits, grits, eggs and country ham. "You sure get your exercise in a place like this," she says taking a breath. "You want to join us, honey?"

One of eight children, Alma was born in Rosman (Transylvania County) in 1926. She grew up pure country, and though she moved to the Asheville area early on–"I told my friends I went highfalutin when I moved to the city," she says–Alma has retained her country charm.

Her rich choice of words reflects her rural rearing. She uses the language she heard from the old people and her parents: "Light and come in," the young girl's papa would say when greeting guests. "See yourself out now and come back," said her mom.

Alma's was one of the few families in the valley that had radio, and like the language she grew up with and learned to use to her favor, the radio too would shape Alma's destiny. On Saturday nights, neighbors gathered for biscuits drizzled with molasses to listen to the Grand Ole Opry. When Minnie Pearl was introduced, Alma would join the country star in monologue. "How-dee! I'm so proud to be hyar."

She used that line on her first day as a waitress at Asheville's Woolworth's diner. But the city sophisticates laughed at the farm girl. She was only 17 at the time. "My feelings weren't hurt," she recalls. "I didn't know people talked any differently. So I started laughing too, and soon we all got tickled."

Back at the Hot Shot, Alma pulls up eye level with a Beaufort, South Carolina, couple and their college-aged daughter. "Morning young ‘uns," she says. "How you doin'? I'm going to sit right down here. I'm old, but we'll get the job done if it takes all day." They respond with laughter.

"I just love to see people laugh," she tells me. "I figure if I can give people a good laugh, I've done my job." She pronounces laugh with a long "e," as lafe.

A foursome comes through the door at the Hot Shot. "Get you ‘uns a seat and sit down," she says, nodding toward a vacant table. A few minutes later, she approaches them with a pot of coffee and a handful of menus. "Y'all make yourself comfortable," she says. "I'll be back in an hour or so." They look up in dismay. Alma smiles. They relax. She winks. They laugh. Already, Alma Allen has done her job.

Occasionally, she will stop to tell you a good story. She enjoys talking about her childhood. As a girl, she churned butter, chopped wood and helped out as she could. She and her mom prepared Sunday "dinner" on Saturday–Alma explains that her mother refused to cook on the Sabbath–and stowed it in the old springhouse. Three miles to church the next morning, three miles back. When the family returned home, fried chicken, boiled potatoes and fried cream corn (really) awaited them.

She remembers gathering pine knots from the forest. In the fireplace, the burning fists of wood provided enough light for her to do her homework. Though she could have lighted the kerosene lamps, Alma sought to save her parents the expense of the precious oil.

Alma's scrapbook speaks to life that has distributed more than its share of kindness. The three-hole-punch pages contain notes of gratitude scribbled on napkins and letters of commendation. "Alma! You're the sort of girl I'd like to be lost with on an island," reads a note on which the author sketched an island and palm tree.

"You are such an inspiration to so many people," reads another. "When I plan my trip to the mountains, I always make time for a stop at the Hot Shot."

Another simply reads, "Thanks for helping me when I was in a bind."

Few people leave the Hot Shot unimpressed by Alma Allen. Six-year-old Johannah left a note that read, "I like you Alma." We know just what you mean, Johannah.

As a 10-year-old, Alma had the chance to draw names to exchange Christmas gifts during Sunday school. But Alma's father told her that times were hard, and he couldn't afford to buy a gift for her to exchange. Nonetheless, the girl agreed to participate in the name exchange against her father's wishes.

But Alma did not buy a gift. She made one, using two potatoes, a large one and small one, to make a doll. She assembled the doll using matchsticks and put it in a brown paper bag then sneaked it to church, where it sat with the other gifts under the Christmas tree for a week or so.

On the day gifts were exchanged, Alma received a nice new brooch. The girl who gave it to her, received the sack of potatoes, which by then had started to ooze from their matchstick piercings. "That girl cried and cried," Alma recalls. "My momma had to go out and buy her a nice gift. Me? I got a whipping I'll never forget."