“I’m telling you, when I get the feeling, I’m never wrong.”
Their waiter came and took their order, and Angelina settled back into her satin-covered chair. “So, Jerry, you’re in the construction business, right? I used to work in a construction office, you know.”
Jerry leaned forward and shifted the centerpiece so that he had a clear view of Angelina as they talked. “Really? Yeah, I’ve been rehabbing houses. The idea is, I get them for cheap, fix them up, and sell them at a profit. At least, that’s the idea. I’ve done three in the last year, so it’s going pretty well.”
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
Their Earl Grey arrived, and Angelina spent some time twirling the spoon in her cup before she broached the next subject. “Let me ask you a question,” she said, looking Jerry in the eye. “You’ve been so sweet today, when are you planning to find a girl and get married?”
Jerry chuckled as he heaped two sugars into his cup. “Nah, that’s not for me. I like being a bachelor too much.”
“You have something against being married?”
Jerry drained his elegant but slight china cup in one go and reached over to pour some more. “Not really, not as an institution. But … you know, my parents broke up right after my brother died.”
“I’m sorry,” said Angelina sympathetically.
“To be honest, they never got along very well.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yeah, it was. But, you know what always got to me? That tie.”
Angelina was at a loss for a moment. “What tie?”
“My father’s tie. He was a salesman, and he wore a skinny black tie to work every single day. Put it on when he got up and took it off when he went to sleep. He even wore it on weekends. And as far back as I can remember, he woke up every day and did exactly what everybody else wanted him to do—he took the whole world on his shoulders, and it wore him down, you could see it, and to me the tie was like his leash.”
Jerry paused and Angelina could hear a mix of both admiration and disappointment in his voice.
“After he died a couple of years back, I was looking at old pictures of my mom and dad before they got married. No ties. I don’t have one picture of my father in a tie when he was a younger guy. That spoke to me.”
Angelina thought it was a funny idea, but she could see that Jerry took it seriously. “So, you don’t like ties.”
“I just don’t know if I’m ready to put on a tie for the rest of my life.”
Angelina could see that he had given this notion a lot of thought, but couldn’t help wondering if he was as certain about it as he tried to sound. “Nobody says you gotta wear a tie,” she said agreeably.
“Good.” He took a sip of tea.
“Except the day you get married. Then you better wear a tie.”
He laughed. “Maybe. I’ll put on a tie for the right girl, maybe. That’s how you’ll know, right?”
“Good.” Angelina raised her cup to her lips to hide her smile.
Just then, the waiter arrived, wheeling a wooden cart that carried an elaborate silver tray that was resplendent with assorted tea sandwiches of every shape and size, filled with savory fish and chicken salads, smoked salmon, pastel creams and little wisps of sprouts and cress, intermingled with tiny scones, colorful tarts, and petits fours. The waiter placed a bowl of clotted cream on the table, fresh butter, and a bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries.
“Please, enjoy,” he said, and hustled away.
“My goodness,” said Angelina. “Oh, aren’t they pretty?”
Jerry looked pleasantly confused. “I thought we were getting a tray of sandwiches?”
“They’re tea sandwiches.” She picked up a miniature salmon-mousse-and-cucumber sandwich on pumpernickel and tasted it. “Ooh. That is yummy.”
“I don’t see any pickles or chips, either,” said Jerry.
Angelina reached over for a petite wedge of rye bread with curried chicken salad. “Boys don’t know anything. Eat this.”
He ate it and nodded approvingly. “Wow. That’s good. Eighty-three more of those and we won’t have to stop for cheesesteaks on the way home.”
Angelina laughed. Then she thought, maybe cheese-steaks on the way home wasn’t such a bad idea.
After all, we’re eating for three.
Philadelphia Tea Sandwiches
* * *
Serves 4 to 6
RULES FOR MAKING THE PLEASING PLATTER OF TEA SANDWICHES
• Use really fresh bread.
• Provide for variety in color and taste of the fillings, and make them fine in texture.
• Use a good fine-tooth knife (which won’t squash the bread) to slice off the crusts of the sandwiches after they’re assembled.
BREAD COMPONENTS
1 loaf fresh white bread (every two slices of bread yield 4 tea sandwiches
1 loaf fresh pumpernickel bread (every two slices of bread yield 4 to 6 tea sandwiches)
12 to 18 small parsley sprigs for garnish
INGREDIENTS FOR WATERCRESS/CREAM CHEESE FILLING
(green in color with bitter finish to the sweet cheese)
4 ounces whipped cream cheese
½ cup fresh watercress, finely minced
Pinch salt
Dash ground black pepper
INGREDIENTS FOR THE EGG SALAD FILLING
(yellow in color with a mustardy/salty finish)
2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled while still warm, and chilled
½ teaspoon Colman’s dry mustard
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste Dash paprika
INGREDIENTS FOR THE BEET/MASCARPONE SALAD
(pink with a sweet quality)
2 ounces mascarpone cheese
One 4-ounce can beets, drained, patted dry with paper towels, and cut fine brunoise (tiny cubes)
Pinch salt
Dash ground black pepper
INGREDIENTS FOR THE CURRIED CHICKEN SALAD
(yellowish hue with a pungent quality)
Two 6-ounce chicken breasts
1 teaspoon curry powder
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, minced
1 stalk celery, minced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
INGREDIENTS FOR THE TUNA WALDORF SALAD
(bits of red from the apple and a sweet flavor)
Two 6-ounce cans water-packed albacore tuna, well drained and finely minced
1 red apple, skin on, stem and seeds removed, and cut fine brunoise into a bowl of lemon juice
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 tablespoon walnut meats, finely chopped
Salt, to taste
Dash black pepper
½ cup white seedless grapes, quartered lengthwise and thinly sliced
METHOD FOR THE WATERCRESS/CREAM CHEESE SANDWICHES
Mix the cream cheese and watercress in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
METHOD FOR THE EGG SALAD FILLING
Slice the eggs crosswise into ¼-inch-thick slices, then chop finely. Mix in a small bowl with dry mustard, mayonnaise, salt and pepper. Sprinkle the paprika over the surface of the egg salad after spreading it on the bread.
METHOD FOR THE BEET/MASCARPONE SALAD
In a small bowl soften the cheese with a fork, then use a wooden spoon or rubber spatula to thoroughly and gently mix in the cubed beets. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
METHOD FOR THE CURRIED CHICKEN SALAD
Season both sides of the chicken breasts with the curry powder, rubbing the seasoning well into the flesh. Place the chicken into a shallow pan and fill with enough water to cover, being careful not to disturb the seasoning too much. Poach over medium heat until the chicken is cooked through (the juices run clear and it is fork tender), then transfer to a utility platter to let cool to room temperature. Chop the cooled chicken finely and refrigerate to chill, about 1 to 2 h
ours. Mix with mayonnaise, parsley, and celery, and season with salt and pepper.
METHOD FOR THE TUNA WALDORF SALAD
Mix the tuna, apple, mayonnaise, walnuts, salt, and pepper in a small bowl. Layer the sliced grapes on top of the layer of tuna salad after spreading it on the bread as directed below.
ASSEMBLY OF TEA SANDWICHES
Spread the filling on a slice of white or pumpernickel bread in an even ¼-inch thickness, and cover with a second slice of bread (repeating as desired for each group of tea sandwiches) and cut off the crusts. If the bread has a generally square cross section, cut the sandwiches into four 2-inch triangles by making perpendicular diagonal cuts. Some bread, such as pumpernickel, may be oblong in cross section. For sandwiches made with such bread, you can cut them into approximately 6 uniform squares rather than triangles.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Snowbound and Determined
THE SAND FELT warm and clean between Angelina’s toes, and the heat of the sun on the back of her neck stung, but in a delicious kind of a way, the way a sip of ice-cold gin with a squeeze of fresh key lime stings on your tongue. She was sitting on a tiny spit of land, barely as wide as the street in front of her house; a crystal clear lagoon was on her left, and a broad, cerulean ocean on her right. The whitecaps danced and vied for her attention with the gulls that drifted lazily overhead. Frank’s head broke through the wavelets lapping the shore and he strode powerfully out of the water, stripped to the waist in drenched, rolled-up khakis, with a bright red lobster thrashing and snapping in his hands. He dropped it on the ground; it scuttled over to a cast-iron pot that hung over the fire crackling nearby and was pulled into the pot by two other lobsters. Frank sat down next to her. He was tan and smelled like salt and sea breezes and coconut oil. “We should have done this sooner, babe,” he said as he threw his head back and winnowed the water out of his dark hair. “You wait too long on the things you’re supposed to do and you miss out.”
“You are so right,” said Angelina.
He leaned in to kiss her.
The alarm was shrill and the sound it made was a cross between a boat horn and a conch shell being scraped across a blackboard. Angelina woke up all alone. She dragged herself out of bed with a sigh, dragging a keen sense of disappointment and of missing Frank with her, yet again. It was time to get the oatmeal going on the stove. She’d feel better when the guys showed up and she had somebody to talk to.
Once Angelina had sailed well into her third trimester, it was collectively decided that she needed to wind down, then cut back completely on cooking to rest and prepare for the impending birth of her child. The idea was announced by Gia, seconded by Tina, and passed unanimously by both sides of the table. The gentlemen would be responsible for their own care and feeding until the christening, and God willing, Angelina would resume her culinary duties after her “maternity leave.”
After the big Wanamaker shopping trip, Jerry had urged her not to make a big fuss about thanking them all individually or by making a big speech or anything of the sort, because some of them had given more than others and he felt strongly that nobody should be made to feel self-conscious about it. Apparently, it was a “guy thing,” according to Jerry. Although the concept of not universally expressing her gratitude went against her grain, Angelina promised to keep it all low-key and to respect his wishes. The way men related to each other was baffling beyond belief.
Angelina had been seeing an ob-gyn, recommended by Dr. Vitale, named LeAnn Fitzpatrick, an energetic, petite woman of Asian descent who’d married an Irish radiologist. She had the gift of dispensing calm, sensible, and reassuring medical wisdom laced with a generous and good-natured sense of humor. She had particular empathy for Angelina’s situation, having raised a daughter on her own before her second marriage, and Angelina soon found herself relying on the doctor’s advice and understanding. Angelina faithfully attended Lamaze classes for a few weeks, starting out with Gia as her coach, who was soon replaced by Tina when the exercises proved to be too hard on Gia’s knees.
For the past month, the seventh of her pregnancy, Angelina had been plagued at all hours by recurring Braxton Hicks contractions, pangs of cramping and sudden tremors that mimicked labor pains, which afflicted her to the point of anxiety. She’d been assured that they were no cause for alarm, but one scary episode of false labor that had dragged her and Dr. Fitzpatrick screeching out to the emergency room at Hahnemann Hospital at three o’clock in the morning on an icy-cold winter’s night had left her shaken and upset. Her doctor laughed it off and swore that she had been planning to go out jogging anyway, but after the incident Angelina felt like the jittery expectant mother who had cried wolf.
Late one morning, Angelina was working on “feathering her nest” with Gia’s help, cleaning and organizing and preparing for her last full week of cooking, when Basil Cupertino unexpectedly rang her doorbell. Angelina opened the door, and she failed at first to see why he had a look of such melancholy chagrin on his face.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he repeated dully.
“Everything okay?”
He indicated his hands, which held a small, familiar-looking pot with a lid on it.
“What’s that?”
“Soup.”
“You better come in.”
They proceeded silently into the kitchen and Basil placed the pot, which was still quite warm, onto a burner and Angelina turned on the flame.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Well,” said Basil as he sat, “lately I’ve been talking a lot about the food you’ve been making over here. Maybe too much. You know how I get.”
“How’d that go over?”
“Not so good. So, this morning, my sister made this … this soup. And she wants to know what you think of it.”
They looked over at the pot, which let out a little blurp as it came up to temperature.
“What kind is it?” asked Angelina.
“Split pea with ham.”
Angelina rose warily, went to the cupboard, picked out two very small soup bowls, two spoons, and ladled some of Dottie’s split pea into each one. She placed the bowls at the table gently, as though they might accidentally explode if handled carelessly, and sat down.
“You don’t have to do this,” said Basil. “I’ll just tell her that you thought it was fine.”
“I don’t want you to have to lie.”
“I don’t want to hurt the baby.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.”
Angelina made ready with her spoon. Basil got up and began nervously filling two glasses with water and ice, for emergency palate cleansing.
Gia, who had been dusting upstairs, came into the room and saw an empty chair and a little bowl of soup, so she sat right down and picked up a spoon.
“Ah, zuppa.” She scooped up a little and blew on it.
“Wait,” said Basil from behind her.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Cupertino, when did you get here?” said Gia, then she slurped hungrily.
Angelina and Basil could only stare. Gia took a second sip. And a third, before they recovered their wits.
“Ma?” said Angelina.
“What?”
“How’s the soup?”
“It’s good.”
Angelina took a sip.
“What’s it taste like?” Basil asked her.
“Tastes like split-pea soup,” said Angelina.
Basil sat and tried some. “You’re right.”
“What did you think it was?” asked Gia finally.
“Dottie made the soup,” said Basil.
Gia eyed her bowl with fresh suspicion.
“You know,” said Basil helpfully, “I watched her when she was starting to make it, and she was actually looking at the recipe on the bag that the split peas came in. I’ve never seen her do that before.”
“Maybe she just needed some encouragement,” said Gia. “You know, I thought Dottie might start feeling
bad about the way you’re always going on and on about another woman’s cooking, Mr. Cupertino.”
“Who, me?” asked Basil with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m the poster boy for diplomacy.”
“Ha!” said Gia. “You talk about Angelina like she invented spaghetti or something.”
“I just have trouble restraining my enthusiasm sometimes, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well, every woman in every man’s life wants to think that nobody else can cook for him the way that she can,” Gia went on. “Angelina knows what I’m talking about.”
Leaning forward, hands folded, Angelina authoritatively replied, “The power of food is second only to sex.”
“That’s a bold statement,” said Basil.
“You should be honored that Gia and I are letting you in on it. This is something every woman knows without being told and no man suspects. Until it’s too late.”
“I am feeling a little surrounded behind enemy lines,” said Basil.
“Think about it,” said Angelina. “What if you met a woman and fell in love? Don’t you think she’d want to cook for you? Maybe you’d leave us for her. Maybe she’d make you leave us for her. I bet I would.”
“Me, too,” said Gia.
“I never thought about it that way,” said Basil.
“Yeah, well, I pray for you, Mr. Cupertino,” said Gia. “Of all people, I think you might crack up if you had to choose between a woman and a lasagna.”
• • •
The night of their last supper came soon enough. Angelina dubbed it the “Thank You Dinner” and assumed that they all knew what she meant. She served them homemade chicken and pork sausages, with fingerling potatoes and braised cabbage in individual fresh-baked bread boules. She made the skinless sausages from scratch, flavored with caraway and sage, and finished the boules by lining them with provolone. It was profoundly comforting comfort food. The meal was a big hit, and she even sent Mr. Cupertino back across the street with a pan of her lasagna, whose siren song had first called him to her table, to help ease his transition, or, as he put it, “going cold turkey.”
Angelina's Bachelors Page 19
