Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, July 14, 1993 TAG: 9309020354
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Beth Macy Staff Writer
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
At home at least there are window fans and the occasional front-porch breeze.
But when Baytops goes to work in the pressing room of Air-Lee Cleaners, the climate is pure steam-heat: No air conditioners allowed.
"I have to stand by the dryers inside so it's extra hot," says Baytops, who trots outside into the 90-degree heat every morning - to cool off.
She and a host of other heated Williamson Road workers - muffler men, mechanics, car salesmen and the like - get their breeze from a bright green truck and a white Styrofoam cup full of Deb's Frozen Lemonade.
So thirsty were the women at Deb's Kut Hut one day that they came running out with their hair still in rollers to buy one.
When people see Virginia Sink tooling toward them in her mail-truck-turned-frozen-lemonade- mobile, they know relief is on the way.
"Where were you yesterday? I was dying," says Mike Johnston at Woodson-Pontiac.
"I had to take a day off," Sink says.
"You ruined my day completely," he says, grinning.
Other customers weren't so nice. "The phone rang all day yesterday with people demanding to know where she was," says Deb's owner Rudy Castelli, who can be pretty demanding himself.
Castelli, an Italian Rhode Islander from way back, mixes up the batches of Deb's Frozen Lemonade based on an old Italian ice recipe. He says he wouldn't give the recipe to his own brother, though his daughter Deb Castelli sometimes helps him slosh together the icy drink at their new location, 3009 Brambleton Ave.
"You have to drink it just like this. No straws," he says. "You chuck it - a glob at a time."
Castelli can be a bit of a stickler where methods are concerned. He doesn't allow driver Virginia Sink to give out straws on the truck - because the use of straws go against his chuck-and-glob approach, plus they cost extra.
"You're suppose to savor it and enjoy it," Castelli says. "Not gulp it down."
People covert enough to use their own straws find themselves sipping out the juice, then having to wait till the ice melts down again into a drinkable form. Others fill up the straw with the icy concoction and drink it by the straw-full.
As for the chuck-and-glob method, it takes a veteran hand to toss back a drink full without getting the stuff all over your nose.
Mike Johnston has that veteran hand. "You drink so much. Then you sorta let it sit for a while, and yet it's still cold. If you play your cards right, it can last up to two hours." Johnston's such a regular that one time when he came out late to meet Sink and she'd already driven off, he chased her truck down the street on foot.
He's on Sink's late-morning route, which is sort of a tour of Northeast Roanoke through the backs of car-repair garages and muffler shops.
Greg Neil at Minute Mufflers is one of Sink's first stops. "He says he's gonna marry me," Sink says, pulling into the shop. "He doesn't even know my name."
"I was mad at you yesterday for standing me up," he says.
"If he's still in love with me by the end of the summer, he can get me a big ol' rock," Sink says, driving off.
Seriously, it's not always easy being the queen of the thirst-quenchers. One day a guy grabbed her inside the truck and she had to bop him with the metal soup ladle she uses to scoop lemonade.
People holler if she's the slightest bit late from her usual route schedule. "Some people are so picky, you'd think I was bringing them their dinner."
"Some people I put up with, some people I don't."
Once you cross Sink, she crosses you off her route. That's why most of the people are ready and waiting at their allotted time, money in sweaty hand.
On Billy Richards' days off, he walks the five blocks from his house in Boxley Hills to a filling station on Williamson Road and stands there waiting for Sink's truck. "She comes between 11:30 and 12, so I leave my house about 11:20," he says.
After she goes up and down Williamson, Sink circles back downtown, where she stops the truck in front of the new Norfolk-Southern building on Franklin Road from 12:30 to 2 p.m. to catch the workers on their lunch hour. "There's one lady I talk to every day, and we don't know each other's names, but she will even walk to get me my lunch sometimes."
By the time Sink finishes her 2:30 p.m. stop at Lawrence Transfer - when the workers get their break - she's usually sold all 40 gallons of the thick, sweet lemonade.
In business since 1977, Deb's was located in Vinton on Walnut Avenue until the Castellis changed locations this spring. Open May through September, Deb's is one of the few places around that specialize in a single, seasonal drink item (although you can buy pretzels and popcorn at the store).
Rudy Castelli, a retired letter carrier, takes it easy during the winter while daughter Deb usually finds a short-term job. Last winter she worked at a McDonald's.
Sink's not sure what she'll do once the heat dies down and they close up shop.
"They tell me I ought to sell hot chocolate," she says, smiling.
\ Conspicuous Consumption is an occasional series that spotlights the way Southwest Virginians are eating, drinking and cooking.
by CNB