Smithfield restaurant closes its doors after 40 years

SMITHFIELD

The rush started early Thursday. Martha Whitley knew it would.

Chicken and dumpling Thursdays were always big here, but ever since word got out that The Twins Olde Towne Inn would be closing, they have been huge. And this would be the last one.

Pre-orders for the Thursday specialty had been coming in all week, so by 10 a.m. Whitley stood in the old kitchen preparing for a crowd. Chicken breasts sizzled in the oven, dumplings boiled in a giant tray of broth and a salty meat smell steamed into the air.

Pam Spivey, Whitley's niece who helps run the place, came back to the kitchen after hanging up the phone.

"That makes 71 orders now," she said. "We're probably going to run out."

"That's fine!" Whitley said. "Come 2 o'clock, if we run out, that's great. I'm already out of pie."

"Her pies," Spivey gestured, "the meringue stands about 4 inches tall."

This was the end for the restaurant that Martha Whitley and her twin sister, Alice, began just out of high school four decades ago.

"Someone asked if we wanted to open a restaurant, and we did," Whitley said, explaining the origin. "It worked out all right."

These days, another sister, Dean Greer, presides over the nine-table dining area and the cash register, and Whitley cooks.

Whitley stood over an oven seasoned to a crisp with spillovers, the same oven she has used since The Twins moved from its first spot to this narrow, brick storefront in 1974.

Over the years, The Twins became a community dining room.

A group of men played a number game every morning to see who bought that day's coffee. Antique car buffs lined Main Street on Saturday mornings while they hung out at The Twins.

But after 40 years, the sisters were tired.

"It was time," Whitley said.

Thursday morning, while Whitley cooked, one customer brought in a tray of cookies. A man carried in a bouquet of flowers from the town of Smithfield. Another leaned into the back and said quietly to Spivey, "Tell the ladies thanks for many years of coming here and eating great food."

People have written poems about The Twins for the newspaper; someone wrote a song about it.

Before 11, people began arriving for carry-out orders, and tables were filling. Spivey popped back into the kitchen.

"How's it coming with the dumplings? There's a man here to pick up six orders."

"Has he got anything else?" Whitley asked. "Other than the special?"

No.

"All with black-eyed peas and baked tomatoes," Whitley confirmed.

She put a whole baked chicken breast into the tray, moved over to a hot bar with five sections: black-eyed peas, baked tomatoes, and string beans or collards simmering with ham fat.

Whitley heaped dumplings and broth on until it covered the chicken breast, then ladled in the black-eyed peas and tomatoes and tossed in a white roll.

That costs $6.75.

"That's a steal!" Whitley said.

That's only the Thursday special. Another trademark was her saltfish for breakfast and, when she made them, crab cakes. She would buy a bushel of crabs and steam them, then everyone would pick them and Whitley would make them with the fresh crabmeat.

She does her dumplings for this precise amount of time: "Till they're tender."

Shortly before noon, Whitley had 34 orders left to fill, but for the moment had caught up. She boiled water for a fresh batch of iced tea, then called out to Greer:

"Everybody eatin'?"

No.

"Well, see what they want, and I'll fix it."

And maybe instead of Greer or Whitley locking up for the last time, the final memory of The Twins should be of the place in action:

"Has Ralph been in yet?"

"You need two more cups of coffee."

"Would you put this money in the Super Bowl pool for me?"

"I'll see you around."

"I'll see you here and there."

"We'll miss you here."

And Whitley in the back serving up the special, steam rising from a plate of chicken and dumplings.

Lon Wagner, (757) 446-2341, lon.wagner@pilotonline.com