Instead of launching into his third attempt to explain how to select meat, Josh said, “Okay, let’s talk to Willie, the meat guy here.” Josh faced the counter and waved to Owen’s brother. “Willie! How are you, my friend?”
Willie looked up from the counter, where he was cutting and breaking down an enormous piece of beef. “My man, Josh! How’s it going? And, hey, Leo. How are you? And how’s Francie?”
Leo turned to Josh. “My wife and I come here a lot. We’ve gotten to know Willie. Well, Francie more than I, since she’s the meat eater in the family. But Willie always takes care of her.”
“So what’s with the entourage today, fellas?” Willie winked at me, wiped his hands on a dish towel, and leaned against the counter.
Josh explained the show and asked Willie for suggestions.
“Well,” Willie said, “I know Francie’s been eyeing these lamb chops, but I think she didn’t know what to do with them. How to cook them exactly. And they’re pretty pricey. Worth it, though.”
I’d promised myself that I’d keep quiet, but keeping the promise took a lot of effort. How could anyone have absolutely no idea how to cook lamb chops? In terms of culinary challenge, they weren’t exactly shad roe or calf brains.
“Dude, those look nice,” Digger commented from behind Josh. “Really fresh.”
“You’re right,” Josh agreed. With what I felt sure was no intention of insulting Francie, he said to Leo, “It’s hard to ruin a good lamb chop. The worst thing you can do is overcook it, but I’ll show you how to avoid that. Okay, Willie, give us a couple of chops for Francie.”
Willie selected two from the depths of the refrigerated counter and placed them on plastic wrap on the scale. “So, I’m going to be famous from this show, I assume. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve spent a few extra minutes at the mirror this morning.” Willie scratched his chin. “Might have even shaved for you.”
“You’re as pretty as always, dude,” Josh said with a laugh. “But we’re going to see Evan in a bit to pick up some cheese and a bottle or two of wine. We’ll see who’s prettier then.”
“Tell my brother I’ll always win that contest. Hey, Chloe,” Willie called over the counter to me. “How’s my soon-to-be sister-in-law doing? She ready to pop yet?”
Willie meant my best friend, Adrianna, who was going to marry his brother Owen in a couple of weeks. Adrianna was eight months pregnant and looked as if she were carrying triplets. As far as anyone knew, there was only one baby inside her, but I was beginning to worry that the one baby weighed forty pounds.
“Well, she’s okay. Aside from comparing herself daily to a variety of large mammals and insisting that Owen take over for her and incubate the kid himself. So, you know, she’s doing great,” I said sarcastically.
“Aw, poor thing. I’ll have to give her a call and check in.” Willie wrapped the lamb chops in white butcher’s paper and passed them to Josh. “Good luck. And tell Francie I send my love, okay?”
“Will do,” Josh said with a nod. “Now let’s get your fish.”
Josh got enough halibut to make a first course for Leo. Then we cruised down an aisle lined with shelves of fancy oils, vinegars, and prepared sauces in imaginatively shaped bottles and jars.
“I’ve used some of these sauces before.” Leo pointed to a series of bottles that bore the pretty green label of an imported brand. “That tends to be how I cook, I guess. With jarred sauces.”
As Josh nodded in understanding, Robin nudged Nelson. The signal was unnecessary. Nelson already had the camera on Josh’s face, which expressed his passion for helping people to make wonderful food in their own kitchens. “That’s true for a lot of people,” Josh said. “And it’s great that there are high-quality products for when people want to get a meal out quickly. But the downside is that the at-home cook can really miss out on simple, delicious sauces, salsas, chutneys, and marinades, all kinds of things that can be put together with minimal work. As good as some of these products can be, nothing beats the taste and aroma of freshly chopped herbs blended with a fantastic Spanish olive oil. Or a sauce that you’ve slowly simmered on your stove so you’ve brought out all the flavors of your ingredients.”
Josh and Leo continued making their way through the market, adding products to the shopping cart until Josh was sure he’d have everything he’d need. “I assume you’ll have some basic seasonings at your house, Leo?”
Leo nodded. “I think I’ve got everything you need.” He grinned shyly at Robin. Was Leo trying to flirt with Robin? If so, Robin completely ignored him and returned to checking her notes.
All of us finally ended up at a register, where Robin paid. A benefit of being selected for the show was that the station covered the cost of all the food in the cart, including whatever had been in there before Robin and the chef had even approached the shopper. Today, of course, Robin had picked out Leo as he’d been entering the store, so the policy didn’t matter, and in any case, most of Natural High’s clientele needed no help with food bills. Still, the generous practice spoke well for the station.
“The cheese shop is next,” Robin instructed us while simultaneously scribbling on her clipboard. I was beginning to suspect that she followed the David Letterman approach to note taking, which was to say that her notes were nothing more than random scribbles with no bearing on what was happening. “Since it’s basically next door, we can just walk over there. Digger and Marlee, you can put the bags in the van for us.”
While Robin’s back was turned, Digger saluted her and started pushing the shopping cart. Marlee stayed with him as Robin marched impatiently through the exit door, with Josh, Leo, Nelson, and me hurrying to keep up with her. Everything about her manner and her posture suggested that all of us had been hanging around and wasting time, whereas, in fact, Robin herself had been the sole cause of the delay. Looking back over her shoulder, she had the nerve to call out, “Let’s go, people! We’re on a timetable here!”
The cheese and wine shop where Evan worked was unimaginatively called the Cheese and Wine Shop. Its setting was no more intriguing than its name. It occupied one of the storefronts in a little strip mall across the parking lot from Natural High. Flanked by a knitting store on one side and a handmade crafts boutique on the other, the Cheese and Wine Shop distinguished itself by displaying a cheerful striped awning that welcomed visitors.
“Welcome! Welcome!” Evan’s greeting sounded more affected than genuinely affable. Posed next to a display table that showcased the wine of the month, he had one hand on the table and the other at his waist. I could practically smell calculation in the air. As if to confirm my hunch that Willie had called to give Evan a heads-up, Evan exclaimed, “What a surprise!” After pausing to bestow a toothy smile on everyone, he continued. “And what are you all doing here? Could this be a Chefly Yours episode?”
Still trying to keep my vow of silence, I waved to Evan, who, like everyone else in Owen’s family, was extraordinarily good-looking—reason to feel confident about the genes that Owen was passing on to his baby. Evan and Willie were a year apart but could almost have been mistaken for identical twins. Evan, however, was a bit bulkier than Willie, probably because Evan was fond of overindulging in the delicious triple-crème cheeses available here.
“And is my friend Leo here the target of all your shenanigans?” Evan’s theatrical effort to project made him speak so loudly that Josh and Leo stepped back.
“I am, I am,” Leo answered. “I had no idea when I walked into the store today that I would wind up with the services of a talented chef. It’s wild.” Leo turned to Josh. “I’m a bit of a regular here, as you might have figured out.”
Evan shook Josh’s and Leo’s hands, and then Josh introduced Robin and Nelson.
“Okay, start shooting, Nelson,” Robin ordered.
Nelson flicked on the camera’s light and moved his eye behind the camera while muttering, “I think I know what I’m doin’ here …”
Josh nodded and move
d to Evan’s side. “So, Evan, we’re looking for some cheeses to serve after dinner and some nice wines to go with everything. What can you recommend?”
The bright light seemed to have panicked Evan, who began to sweat profusely. “Well, Josh,” said Evan, while beaming maniacally into the camera lens, “there are several wonderful choices that I happen to have here.” He moved to the counter by the register and pulled out a tray on which eight or nine cheeses, each with a label, were attractively and all-too-conveniently arranged. “Ahem, this is a lovely Tomme de Savoie. And here we have a Serena, which comes from the mountainous Extremadura region of Spain. Oh, and a rich Gorgonzola, which I think should be on every cheese tray—very smooth and creamy. Would you like a sample?” Evan seemed to be loosening up as he eased into his cheese comfort zone, but when he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, I saw Robin wince.
Evan’s anxiety made me long to alert Leo’s wife, Francie, to the imminent arrival of her husband and his newfound group of television friends. It was five thirty, and I guessed that Leo’s wife might be home any minute. I couldn’t believe that most people would welcome strangers with a camera into their homes with absolutely no notice. It was easy for me to imagine times when even I, who would drop almost anything for a gourmet meal, wouldn’t want Chefly Yours descending on my condo. Of course, I didn’t have Francie’s number and had no way to find it. I didn’t even know her last name. The poor woman! And what if she freaked out when we all showed up at her house? What if she ruined Josh’s chances of winning? For all I knew, the unknown Francie might toss us out like yesterday’s fondue!
Evan cut samples of the powerfully flavored cheese for us all and moved on to a mouthwatering Explorateur. “Decadent and luxurious is how this cheese is best described.” Evan cut through the rind to reveal a creamy center. “This is a triple-crème at its finest.” He really was nervous! He knew as well as I did that cheeses should be eaten in order from mild to strong. He spread the cheese onto four crackers, and in spite of the competition from the lingering taste of the Gorgonzola, all of us, even Robin, groaned and murmured approval.
Decadent and luxurious indeed! I closed my eyes to savor the rich flavor. The thin, crispy, free-form crackers were perfect. Others might not appreciate the need for a good cracker, but I hated ruining an extraordinary cheese by smearing it on the equivalent of cardboard and then having the whole mess break apart in my hands. Just as bad were the kinds of crackers loaded with seeds, nuts, or spices, textures and tastes that bonked you over the head, obliterating the taste of the cheese. Ick!
Evan gestured around the store at the walls filled with bottles. “Tell me about your meal, and we’ll match you up with the right wines. I have a few open bottles that have been breathing for a while, so we can start by trying those.”
Josh described the menu, and Evan helped with the choice of wines. My mind wandered. I was more interested in the food than I was in what we’d drink with it. In particular, the little samples of cheese had whetted my appetite for more, and I had no idea how I’d resist absconding with Josh’s cheese tray and leaving none for anyone else.
When we’d left the shop, Robin again started giving orders. “I’ll ride with Leo so I can fill him in on the release papers he’ll have to sign. And you’ll follow us. Don’t lose me! And we’ll meet you outside Leo’s house, okay? This is it, people! Are we ready to roll?”
“You bet.” Josh clapped his hands together. “This is going to be a fantastic meal, Leo. You’re going to be in great hands tonight.”
THREE
Following Robin turned out to be easy. Leo’s house was only a few blocks away. Its appearance surprised me. Fairfield was so uniformly upscale that I’d expected to find Leo and Francie living in a large, beautifully maintained place. As it turned out, their house was a brown-shingled Victorian in decent condition, but the yard, which must once have been attractive, was a neglected mess. My parents run a landscaping business, Carter Landscapes, and I had the strong urge to sic both of them on Leo and Francie. On the upside, the house, much older than the others in the neighborhood, had the charm notably missing from the new construction that dominated the street. I’d waited in the parking lot to make sure that mine was the last car to leave; I hadn’t wanted to get there until the rest of the group had arrived. Lingering, I again primped in my rearview mirror, and then locked my purse in my Saturn, took my keys with me, and made my way past overgrown shrubs and weeds to the back door, which stood open. Through the screen door, I saw Josh standing at the kitchen sink.
“There you are,” he called to me.
“Sorry.” Smoothing my hair and reapplying makeup must have taken longer than I’d calculated.
My first thought on entering Leo’s kitchen was that Robin must be having a fit. So much for the theory that Leo’s appearance meant that he’d have a fancy, photogenic kitchen. At a guess, it had been updated thirty or forty years earlier, and renovations done since then had been partial. The cabinets were made of a pale synthetic material intended to simulate birch, and the floor was covered in brick-patterned linoleum. The walls were white, as was the refrigerator, but the dishwasher was black, the sink was stainless steel, and the stove a hideous avocado green. Although the room itself was large, there was little free counter space, and the layout had evidently been planned by someone who didn’t cook. The refrigerator was far from the sink and stove, and I wasn’t sure that it would be possible to open the refrigerator door without smacking the new-looking but awkwardly placed granite island in front of it. I sighed softly. Well, if anyone could work in this space, it was Josh. And at least the range was gas, and at least Josh had a cooperative subject, Leo.
In contrast, Francie, as I assumed her to be, looked less than cooperative. She was a slim, almost scrawny, woman with frizzy waves of dark hair. She stood with her arms crossed while addressing Robin in a high-pitched voice. “It’s just that we don’t seem to have the best setup here, and … well, I just don’t know about all this.” She uncrossed her arms and waved her hands around almost in the manner of a startled infant. “I’m not, uh, someone who belongs on TV.” Then, as if having hit on an effective argument that stood a chance of driving her unwanted guests from her house, she said with confidence, “I really think you could do better.” She ruined the effect, however, by throwing a pleading glance at Leo.
“Hey, it’ll be fun, Francie! Lighten up. I was a little nervous at first, too, but wait until you see what this chef here, Josh, is going to make for us. Actually, what he’s going to teach us to make. There’s lamb for you. Lamb chops. You love lamb chops. Come on!” Leo whispered something into wife’s ear.
She shrugged and forced a smile. “Well, I guess so. Why not? I am starving.” Francie took off a navy linen blazer and tossed it on the back of a chair by a small breakfast table. When she turned to face us, she had a hint of a smile. Although she was not even close to beautiful, she was striking, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. With the right makeup—she wore none that I could see—she’d have looked distinguished. Now that she’d taken off her blazer, her white linen shell revealed a surprisingly curvaceous build. “So, what do I do?” she asked.
Josh already had the cheese selections unwrapped and coming to room temperature on a plate, and the rest of the ingredients were spread out across every available space. Within minutes, Josh, who was used to running a restaurant kitchen, had finished assigning all of us to separate work areas. Digger, Marlee, and I were given the humble task of peeling potatoes for the gnocchi. Josh was showing Leo and Francie how to make the arugula pesto. We potato peelers were stationed at a small table, and although we kept bumping elbows, our spirits were good. Josh had had the foresight to bring a lot of his own kitchen equipment, including some pots and pans, but Leo and Francie did have an adequate supply of the basics, including a Cuisinart food processor.
At the counter near the sink, Josh was teaching Leo to make pesto in the Cuisinart. Standing next to Leo, he was supervising as Leo
put the ingredients in the bowl of the machine. “So, we have arugula, pine nuts, garlic, Parmesan cheese, Calamata olives, lemon juice, a little salt, and olive oil. We’ll blend this all up and have a fantastic, spicy pesto for the homemade gnocchi.”
The loud noise from the food processor almost drowned out Nelson’s voice. “Sorry. Sorry. Hey, Josh? Excuse me. Can we do that again, Josh? Something is going on with the camera.”
I gritted my teeth. What was Josh supposed to do? Cast some magic spell that would make the pesto ingredients fly apart and reconstitute themselves? Josh was a great chef, but he was a chef. He wasn’t Harry Potter.
“Seriously?” Josh glared at Nelson but kept his cool. “Okay, we have enough here to make another batch.” Josh emptied the Cuisinart bowl, had Leo repeat the process of making the pesto, removed the container from the food processor, dipped a spoon in, took a taste, and nodded to himself. “A touch more salt, and that’s good to go.” He handed spoons to Francie and Leo and let them try. Both responded with smiles.
Robin squeezed between Josh and Leo, grabbed the Cuisinart bowl, and angled the pesto toward Nelson. “You have to hold it like this so we get a good view. Here, let’s put it in something more attractive.” Reaching across the counter, she wrangled a spatula out of a ceramic vase that held cooking utensils and knocked over the vase and its contents. Ignoring the mess she’d made, she grabbed a little hand-painted bowl that sat on a windowsill. “There, here’s a nice bowl for the pesto.” Nelson lowered his camera and waited until Robin had finished meddling in Josh’s business.
When Josh had dutifully transferred the pesto into the pretty bowl, I reluctantly realized that Robin had been right: the reds and oranges of the hand-painted bowl made the pesto look especially green and appetizing. In this instance, anyway, Robin’s bossiness was justified.
When the potatoes were peeled and cooked, Josh had Francie and Leo put them through a ricer and spread them out on a tray to cool. The next step, I knew, was to work in eggs and flour. “Make sure your potatoes are nicely cooled,” Josh warned, “or you’ll cook the egg when you blend it in.” With Josh keeping a close eye on the dough, Leo and Francie rolled it into long snakes, cut off small pieces, used forks to make ridges in each piece, and then curved the gnocchi into C shapes.
The Gourmet Girl Mysteries, Volume 1 Page 64
