Carola smiled as she said, “Meet you in twenty minutes at the stairs that lead to the beach.”
*****
“I don't know when I've felt so invigorated,” Kelly said as the two women left the water and walked towards the lounge chairs that had been set up on the beach for the resort guests. “The water temperature is so different from the Pacific Ocean in Oregon. It almost feels like the temperature of my skin. I love it that the chaises aren't all piled close together but spaced far enough apart that I feel like the sand and the water are exclusive to us. I’m surprised I don't see any lifeguards. There are lifeguard towers, just no lifeguards."
“I've traveled enough to know that Americans seem hung up on safety. Maybe it's because they're so afraid of being sued. I noticed there aren’t any handrails on most of the stairs I've been on, so I can't say I'm particularly surprised there aren't any lifeguards.
“Why don't we meet for lunch in about forty-five minutes? I can hear music coming from the restaurant, so it must be open. Kelly, look, there's a tall slender blond woman walking towards the restaurant. She looks like the woman I saw in Havana. Let's go eat now. I'd like to go over and introduce myself to her. I'm kind of curious about her based on what you overheard. We can shower after lunch and before our meeting with the chef. Would that be okay with you?”
“Yes, I'm just as curious as you are, but she might feel uncomfortable if we both descend on her. Why don't we get a table and see where she’s sitting. If it looks like it's a natural thing, you could go over and strike up a conversation with her.”
They sat down and Carola told the server in fluent Spanish that they would both like a mojito. Kelly loved to watch Carola speak to the servers. It was like watching a movie. People who spoke the language seemed to use every part of their body when they were speaking. It wasn't just the mouth moving. Arm movements, eye movements, body language, hands gesturing, head nodding - everything accentuated what was being said.
“Carola, you know I don't speak the language, but I thought I heard you say the word 'mojito.' Did you order mojitos for us?"
“Of course. I overheard someone say that the bartender here makes the best mojito in all of Cuba. Since we’re here I thought we should try one.”
“I don't think I've ever had a drink this early in the day, but what the heck, I’m on vacation. I just hope I don't fall asleep when I'm talking to the chef, or rather when you're talking to him.”
“Kelly, the one thing I've learned in all of the traveling I've done with Jack is to do what the locals are doing, and the people here at the resort are drinking mojitos with their lunch. Consider it part of adapting to the culture.”
“I'll take your word for it,” she said as the server placed a mojito in front of each of them. Kelly looked at it for a moment, picked it up, and said, “Salud. I seem to remember that word means health in Spanish or close to it and is used in toasts.” She took a sip of her mojito. “Carola, I had my doubts a few moments ago, but this is really delicious. Wouldn't want to serve one at Kelly's Koffee Shop and anyway, I don't have a liquor license, but I definitely am going to enjoy this one.”
“Kelly, the woman we think is Dudley's wife is sitting over there in the corner by herself. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
*****
“Pardon me, but I believe I saw you in Havana night before last. Aren’t you Dudley Samms’ wife?” Carola said as she sat down across from the woman.
“Yes, I’m Patricia Samms, and you are?” the woman asked.
“My name is Carola. I'm Jack Trout’s wife. I'm always eager to meet the wife of a fishing guide. It seems we have so much in common even if we do live in different parts of the world. Have you been involved in this for very long?”
“I've been married to Dudley for fifteen years, and in many ways it feels like a lifetime. Actually, I don't think Dudley will be in business much longer. It's time he went on to something else.”
“Really? Like what?”
“I don't know exactly. I'm not sure anyone does. I hope you'll excuse me,” she said standing up. “I really came in here just to get some cold water. I'm going to spend the afternoon at the beach. I love the ocean, and living in England I don't have too many chances to swim in water this warm. It was nice talking to you.”
Kelly saw Carola approaching their table and when she sat down she asked, “Well? Did you learn anything?”
“The only thing I learned was that was the weirdest conversation I've ever had. I honestly can't make any sense of it.”
“You've definitely aroused my curiosity. What did she say?”
When Carola finished relating the contents of the short conversation she’d had with Patricia Samms, Kelly said, “I agree with you. That sounds like the strangest conversation I've ever heard of too.”
They finished eating their lunch and agreed to meet at the restaurant at 3:30. “Kelly, be sure and bring the names of the dishes you're interested in getting the recipes for. I have no idea what the resort's policy is on something like this, but I seem to remember reading that the resort recently hired a famous Cuban chef to update their menu. If the chef brought his own recipes and dishes to the resort, I would think he could share them with you. We'll have to see. Should be interesting. See you later.”
CHAPTER 7
Promptly at 3:30 that afternoon Kelly met Carola at the entrance to the restaurant. A young woman walked over to them and asked Carola if they were the women who were meeting with Chef Fuentos. She replied yes, and the young woman indicated they were to follow her. They walked through the empty restaurant, and the woman stopped in front of a door marked “Chef Fuentos.” She knocked, and a moment later it was opened by a large Cuban man wearing the traditional chef’s uniform consisting of a white toque (a chef’s hat), a white double-breasted jacket, and checkered pants. He smiled broadly and said, “Buenas tardes,” then he spoke rapidly in Spanish to Carola and closed the door behind them.
Carola turned to Kelly and said, “Chef Fuentos welcomes you and would like to help you as best he can. He speaks almost no English, so I’ll be translating for him. What would you like to know?”
“I’m very interested in the history of Cuban food. Could he tell me what some of the influences have been?”
The chef and Carola spoke back and forth for several minutes while Carola took notes and then said, “Rather than translate everything as he’s saying it, I think it would be much easier if I sum up what he says.”
“I’m fine with however you want to do this. Please, make it as easy as possible for both of you. I just wish I spoke Spanish, so this wouldn’t be necessary. I’d like you to thank him again for agreeing to meet with me.”
Carola translated what Kelly had said, and the chef smiled broadly as he began to speak in rapid Spanish. A few minutes later Carola said, “Kelly, here’s pretty much what he told me about the history of the food. He says it’s a blend of several kinds of cuisines including Spanish, since they colonized Cuba, African, because so many Africans were brought to Cuba as slaves, French from the French colonists that came to Cuba from Haiti, and the Native American Tainos.”
“Excuse me,” Kelly interrupted, “I’ve never heard of the Tainos. Who were they?”
Another exchange took place between the chef and Carola, and then she said, “They were a tribe in the Caribbean and in Florida. Don’t forget that Cuba’s only about ninety miles from the tip of Florida, so there has always been a lot of interaction between the two countries.”
“Okay, I think I understand the influence these other countries had on Cuban food, and I can certainly see it in some of the dishes. Now please ask him what foods would be considered common in Cuba.”
The large affable chef gestured broadly when he was talking, and Kelly wished she had a video camera she could use to record his movements. His dark skin against the white uniform that he wore, his large brown eyes, and a face that was seldom without a smile made him a very appealing subject.
�
��He says a typical meal usually consists of some rice and beans prepared either together or separately. They have different names based on the method of preparation. The main course would usually be pork or beef, and because Cuba is an island, the Cubans eat a lot of fish and seafood. He said there are a lot of tubers such as yuccas, potatoes, and malangas…”
“Sorry, but I’m completely unfamiliar with malangas. What are they?”
“I don’t have to bother him with that, since I know. It’s like a potato, just not as common.”
“Thanks.”
“Plantains are quite common along with tropical fruits, such as mangoes. He said when the embargo started many years ago, and Cubans could no longer get orange juice, mango juice became the common breakfast drink.”
“I didn’t even think of that, but now I’m curious. Would you ask him how the embargo affected the way Cubans eat?”
Carola asked the chef and made notes as she listened to him. When he was finished she said, “One of the biggest things was that Cuba Libres, the popular drink invented in Cuba, which consists of rum, coke, and lime, and means “Free Cuba,” had to be changed, because Cuba could no longer import Coca Cola, since it’s made in America. He said Cubans now use a cola made here in Cuba, but personally he doesn’t think it’s as good as Coca Cola.”
“I’ve never had a Cuba Libre, so I wouldn’t know the difference, but I guess the reverse would be true as well. I don’t think Cuban rum is imported into the United States, so even in the United States, the drink wouldn’t be authentic.”
“I’ve written down a number of other things he says can’t be brought into the country from the United States. I’ll give the list to you later. I don’t want to take too much of his time. What else would you like to know?”
“Thank him for granting us this much time. I’d like to know where he got his training and why he was hired as the chef here at the resort. Lastly there are some recipes I’d like to have that are dishes prepared and served here at the hotel.”
Again, Carola and the chef carried on an animated conversation while Kelly watched, fascinated by how much body language and gesticulating each of them used while they were talking.
“He has wealthy relatives in Paris who offered to pay for him to attend the Cordon Bleu Culinary Arts School there and live with them, which he did. He says when he returned to Cuba he worked in a number of restaurants, but they barely paid a living wage. He heard that this hotel was looking for a chef, and he applied for the job. He says he’s free to make whatever dishes he chooses, and for a chef, it’s probably the best job one could have in Cuba. One of his favorite things is when he gets to prepare special meals for the honeymooners who rent the cabana outside the restaurant for a romantic candlelight dinner.”
“Please tell him that the food here is some of the best I’ve ever eaten. I have five recipes that I would like to have. Tell him I own a coffee shop or a small restaurant in Oregon on the West Coast of the United States. I would love to serve the dishes there, and I would give credit to him for the dishes.”
When Carola translated Kelly’s request to the chef, he smiled broadly at her and spoke rapidly to Carola. “He wants to know which recipes you want.”
Kelly looked at the Spanish names of the dishes she had written down, and said, “I would love to have the recipes for Arroz con Pollo, Arroz con Leche, Albondigas, Moros y Cristianos, and Pastel de Tres Leches. If he could give me these, I would be very happy.”
Before Carola could even translate, the chef was smiling and nodding his head, clearly understanding the Spanish names of the dishes Kelly had requested. He spoke to Carola for a moment.
“The chef says to tell you he personally made changes to those five dishes when he became chef, and the ones being served are his creations. He will gladly give you the recipes. The chef says he will tell his assistant to have them copied, and an envelope containing the recipes will be waiting for you at the front desk tomorrow morning. He said he would do it now, but his assistant is on a break until dinner.
Kelly stood up, smiled broadly, and said, “Muchas gracias, Chef Fuentos.” Turning to Carola she said, “I think we need to leave. I wish I could say more to him, but hopefully he’ll know how much I appreciate his time and information.”
Carola spoke to the chef for several more minutes and then walked over to him and kissed him on each cheek. She turned to Kelly and said, “He says he’s enjoyed his time with us, and although many people have thanked him for his cooking, no one has ever taken the time away from their vacation activities to ask him the questions you did, and he’s honored.”
“One last thing,” Kelly said, “tell him I’m the one who is honored.” She smiled at the chef and walked out of the room, Carola following a moment later.
“Thank you so much, Carola. I am so excited to get those recipes, and I definitely plan on serving them at my coffee shop.”
“So what you’re saying is that if I get hungry for authentic Cuban food, all I need to do is take a trip to Kelly’s Koffee Shop?” she asked mischievously.
“My friend, you are always welcome at the coffee shop or in our home. We’d love to have you.”
“Might just take you up on it,” Carola answered.
CHAPTER 8
Stewart had been on several fly fishing trips with Dudley to various parts of the world and had told Dudley he would go on this trip under one condition. He would pay Dudley an extra thousand Euros if Dudley would agree to fish with him on the first day and help him catch the three types of fish needed to qualify for the Grand Slam Club. Stewart had told him how he'd read about the Grand Slam Club, and since no Englishman had ever become a member of it, he wanted to be the first to qualify.
The next morning a van picked up Dudley's group, along with Philip, Jack, and Mike, from the hotel at 8:00. They drove the short distance to the marina and divided themselves into groups of two with a guide assigned to each group and prepared to go to the zone assigned to each of the boats. There were five fishermen plus Dudley in his group, Jack and Mike, plus Philip and his guide. Within minutes they’d put on their sun-protection gear and were on the way to their assigned zones. That way one particular area wouldn't be overfished, and it gave each of the fishermen an equal opportunity to qualify for the Grand Slam Club - and with it bragging rights for the rest of the fisherman’s life!
“Dudley, remember, I paid you a thousand extra Euros for you to fish with me today so I could catch the tarpon, bonefish, and permit I need to catch to qualify for the Grand Slam Club,” Stewart said.
“I will do what I can, but I can't cast for you, and you know that's always been your downfall. Did you listen to the guide explain about casting to the clock? Remember, when he gets us to where he thinks the fish will be, he'll tell you to cast to eleven o'clock, or three, or whatever. Once you have a fish on your line, I'll tell you what to do, but remember, I can't cast for you.”
At 12:30 the guide told them it was time to go to a small islet where they’d meet the other boats in their group and have the lunch each of them had packed from the breakfast buffet. Dudley looked at a grim-faced Stewart and said, “Do you have any idea how many fish you could have caught if you'd just learned to cast properly? The chances for qualifying for the Grand Slam Club were all there, but with your casting you couldn't get hooked up to one.”
Even though their guide, Stefano, wore sunglasses and a full mask to protect his face from the sun, Stewart could tell he was laughing at him. Dudley didn't even help Stewart out of the boat when the guide eased the boat onto the beach. Dudley shook his head disgustedly when one of his group from another boat asked, “Did your boat have any luck this morning, Dudley?”
“You mean could we have or did we catch anything? We could have caught a lot, but with Stewart's lousy casting it didn't happen, so no, we didn't get anything, and you, any luck?”
“It was a great morning. We each got two bonefish, I got a tarpon, and Christoph caught a permit. We've both got a cha
nce to become the first Englishman to qualify to become a member of the Grand Slam Club."
“Well, good luck. Don't think there will be any competition coming from my boat,” Dudley said, nodding his head towards where Stewart had stepped into the bushes to commune with nature. A few moments later Stewart emerged with a sour look on his face. They sat under some pine trees that provided a cushion of soft pine needles on the ground and threw pieces of bread from their sandwiches to the iguanas who had greeted them as soon as they’d come ashore. It was obvious the iguanas had learned to rely on food from fishermen rather than scavenging on their own as their ancestors had done for eons.
Rested, the fishermen and the guides returned to their boats. “Good luck, Stewart, Dudley,” Christoph said.
“We'll need it,” Dudley replied. Stewart glowered and didn't answer Christoph.
He's the reason I'm not catching any fish, but I need him for the rest of the afternoon, Stewart thought. He's the best fishing guide in England, and I'm certainly paying him enough to help me. He's ruined my self-confidence. The only thing I've gotten for my money is he let me fish all morning, rather than us taking turns. If he'd gotten the three fish and qualified for the Grand Slam Club I think I would have killed him. I'll see what happens this afternoon.
Stewart’s afternoon went no better than his morning had gone. No matter what number on the face of a clock the guide yelled out as he stood on the tower while he poled the boat, when Stewart cast in that direction, it never resulted in a hook-up. Finally at four that afternoon, Dudley turned to Stewart and said, “That's all. You've had more than enough chances to be the first Englishman to qualify for the Grand Slam Club, and you've blown every one of them. Let me show you what a real fisherman can do. Stefano, get up on that tower and call out the numbers to me.”
Cedar Bay Cozy Mysteries #3 Page 15
