Topped Chef: A Key West Food Critic Mystery

by Lucy Burdette

  I saluted him, then wheeled around and limped a retreat into the boat.

  28

  You bring your own weather to the picnic.

  —Harlan Coben, Caught

  I patted the chicken dry, daubed on dots of butter, and sprinkled the skin with coarse kosher salt and slivers of Miss Gloria’s fresh rosemary snipped from the big pot on the back deck. Then I slid the bird into the oven, followed by the pan of potatoes scalloped with leeks, cheddar cheese, and cream. Everything would be golden and bubbly about the time that Randy’s appearance on Emeril came on the tube. We knew he’d make us hungry and we were going to be prepared.

  I put the bowl of slippery gizzards and other innards in the fridge, to use for my cat training session later. Since Trudy Bransford had made the decision to extend her stay in Key West and see if there were any live embers in her marriage, I had the feeling my social life would dribble down to a trickle. Filling my spare time watching cooking shows with my roommate and training cats would be better than nothing. Maybe.

  I started working on mixing the chocolate cake, an easy recipe that had come from my mother’s mother. One bowl, one pan—but a recipe that produced heavenly, light warm chocolate cake that went perfectly with ice cream. Any flavor really. I set out a stick of butter to soften, then measured out cocoa, sugar, flour, baking soda, and salt.

  Eric called just after I’d scraped the batter into a bundt pan. “If you have a minute, I wanted to give you an update on Turtle,” he said.

  “I’d love that,” I said, wiping my hands on my apron and limping to the chair on the back deck.

  “The psychiatrist over at the hospital managed to stabilize his medications, and now he’s agreed to move to the Florida Keys Outreach Coalition halfway house program,” Eric told me. “They’ll make sure he takes his meds. He’ll have a real bed to sleep in. And people who care where he is at night. He’ll attend AA meetings and they’ll help him look for work. And I’ll see him in outpatient therapy.”

  My eyes filled with happy tears. “That’s honestly light years better than I could have imagined.”

  “He’s been out on the streets a long time but he might have a fighting chance,” Eric said. “We’ll give it all we have.”

  Once I’d thanked Eric profusely, and the kitchen was back in good order, I called Mom on Skype and positioned the computer and Miss Gloria on the couch as my live studio audience. Earlier, I’d gotten the idea for trying to teach Evinrude some of the Cat Man’s tricks when cleaning out the cavity of tonight’s roasting chicken. We had borrowed a wooden stool from Miss Gloria’s best pal up the dock, Mrs. Dubisson, and fashioned a large wire loop out of a flimsy coat hanger. We propped up the loop with soup cans in the middle of the room.

  “Are you going to set the hoop on fire like the Cat Man does?” Mom asked.

  “Not the first time out. He’s got a lot more experience with this stuff.” I laughed and scooped up Evinrude, placed him on the stool, and set a small Pyrex bowl of liver on the other side of the loop. Evinrude sat on the stool, tail twitching.

  “So far so good,” I said.

  Miss Gloria clapped with enthusiasm. “He’s better looking than Dominique’s cats. A few of them have some awfully ratty-looking fur. But not Evinrude. He’s a real star.”

  “He hasn’t done anything yet,” I said, walking across the room to tap the bowl of liver. “Come on, kitty.”

  Miss Gloria’s black cat, Sparky, sprang off the couch and bolted over to gobble the entrails.

  “This is harder than it looks.” I snatched up the little cat and handed him off to Miss Gloria, then replenished the treats. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  Evinrude twitched his whiskers and blinked. Then he hopped off the stool and strolled around the wire loop to sniff at the liver. He grabbed the treat and trotted off toward the back deck, tail held high. Both my mother and Miss Gloria broke into peals of laughter.

  The seaman’s bell outside Miss Gloria’s front door chimed, signaling the arrival of a visitor. “I’ll get it,” I told her.

  Wally’s familiar boxy shape was framed in the doorway. “Am I coming at a bad time?” He sniffed the air, now perfumed with the scent of roasting chicken and potatoes.

  “Not a problem,” I said, feeling a pang of apprehension. Since when was it good news for your boss to show up at your home unannounced?

  “Who is it?” asked my mom from the computer screen.

  “I don’t mean to intrude,” he said. “I’m sure you’re busy—”

  “Come on in,” I said, opening the screen door and stepping aside so he could make his way into the living area.

  “This is my boss, Wally,” I explained to my housemate. “And this is Miss Gloria. And my mom’s on the computer.”

  Wally waved to them both. “A pleasure to meet you ladies.”

  “We’re just about to watch Randy Thompson’s guest appearance on Emeril,” Miss Gloria twittered. “Come watch with us? It’s not so often we get male visitors.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I mouthed behind his back.

  “Actually, I just came to check on you,” said Wally, turning to me. “You scared us half to death. Take a few more days off if you need them.”

  “Thanks, but thumbs-up,” I said. “I’ll be in tomorrow morning.” Suddenly I was acutely aware of my yoga leggings and ratty KEY WEST—ONE HUMAN FAMILY T-shirt.

  “Come on,” Miss Gloria coaxed. “Hayley’s roasting a chicken. A couple of little ladies can’t possibly do it justice. She’s made scalloped potatoes, too. With leeks and cheese and tons of butter. And a chocolate cake is going into the oven shortly.” She patted her belly. “I’ve gained five pounds since Hayley moved in.”

  “That’s the absolute worst part of joining them by Skype,” said my mother. “I don’t get a thing to eat.”

  “We were afraid we’d get hungry watching Randy on Emeril,” I said. “I may have gotten carried away.”

  Wally licked his lips and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looked younger than he did at the office, wearing a faded T-shirt and jeans with holes where the knees used to be. Hog’s breath is better than no breath at all, his T-shirt slogan read.

  “If you really don’t mind,” he said. “It smells amazing.”

  “Settled!” said Miss Gloria. “We love company. We don’t get that much of it. Last man we had in here was the tarot card reader—and he’s not of the right persuasion, if you take my meaning.”

  Embarrassment flooded me from toes to the roots of my hair. I was saved from any further comments from my roommate as the theme song from Oliver! tinkled out from the TV screen. A teaser about Randy aka Victoria announced the show and then the program broke for an early commercial.

  “Quick, quick,” Miss Gloria cried, herding us over to the couch. “Beer, sir?” Within minutes, we were settled on the couch, Sparky on Miss Gloria’s lap, Evinrude on mine, Wally in the middle. We watched Randy’s lively introduction and then he explained that he’d be cooking shrimp and grits. “We have a secret weapon in Key West,” he said slyly. “And I’m going to share it with you. Here’s a hint: It should never be a drag to entertain!” He two-stepped across the little kitchen. The television broke for another commercial.

  “Hayley,” said my mom from the computer screen, “could I speak to you in private for a minute?” I dropped Evinrude to the ground and carried the laptop into my bedroom.

  “What about Wally?” she whispered once I’d shut the door. “He’d make a great boyfriend. He’s way cuter than I imagined from the way you described him.”

  “Mom, he’s my boss.”

  Mom chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first girl to sample that recipe.”

  Recipes

  Tim Boyd’s Mediterranean Cod Soup

  My friend Tim Boyd is an amazing cook who inspired his son Adam to become a chef. (And yes, Adam Boyd is the inspiration for Chef Adam, though he’s much more pleasant and handsome and less churlish than the character in this book.) Tim
says this is a good meal for entertaining, either as a first course or main. He makes the soup ahead and then poaches the cod in the soup at the last minute. It’s even better with a toasted baguette crouton on the side. Hayley had the chunky basil sauce made up ahead of time and frozen, which made her dish a snap to prepare for Lorenzo and Miss Gloria.

  Chunky Basil Sauce

  2 tablespoons olive oil

  1 large shallot, chopped

  1 tablespoon minced onion

  1 teaspoon each: dried oregano, dried basil, garlic, and salt

  1 (35 oz.) can Italian whole tomatoes

  Heat oil and sauté shallots, onions, and spices. Pour off about 1 cup of the liquid from the tomatoes and set aside. Chop the tomatoes coarsely and add to the oil/spice mixture. Bring to a boil and simmer for 35 minutes or so. If sauce gets too thick, add a little of the reserved tomato liquid.

  Soup

  1 Recipe Chunky Basil Sauce

  1 can (35 oz.) crushed or diced tomatoes

  1 cup chopped onions

  2 green zucchini cut into 1⁄2-inch dice

  1⁄4 cup sliced black olives

  2 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon—or less (taste this first—it can be strong)

  2⁄3 cup white wine

  2⁄3 cup chicken stock

  1 cup water (optional)

  11⁄2 pounds fresh cod cut into 2-inch chunks

  Add the crushed tomatoes to the Chunky Basil Sauce along with the onions, zucchini, olives, wine, and stock. Bring to a slow boil, then reduce heat and simmer until zucchini is soft. Add water to the desired thickness. At this point the soup can sit overnight (and the flavors usually improve) or longer, if chilled.

  To serve:

  Heat the soup to serving temperature and add the cod chunks. The cod will cook quickly so test every few minutes. When the cod is done, remove the chunks with a slotted spoon and place in the serving bowls. Ladle soup over the fish and top with a toasted baguette crouton.

  Lime Cupcakes with Lime Cream Cheese Frosting

  Henri Stentzel made these for the wedding challenge portion of the reality TV competition. This was adapted from a Buttersweet Bakery recipe in Bon Appetit but Hayley tweaked it to be less sweet, with fewer ingredients, and no food coloring. They are so light and delicious and they freeze beautifully! (As I found out when I had the date wrong for a potluck party and arrived two weeks early….)

  Cupcakes

  2 cups all-purpose flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  1⁄2 teaspoon salt

  1⁄4 teaspoon baking soda

  1 stick butter, softened

  1 cup sugar

  2 large eggs

  21⁄2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (2 to 3 limes, depending on size)*

  1 tablespoon finely grated lime peel

  3⁄4 cup buttermilk

  To make the cupcakes, preheat the oven to 350ºF. Line a cupcake or muffin pan with paper liners. Sift first four ingredients together in a medium bowl. In another large bowl, beat the butter with a mixer until smooth. Add sugar and beat well. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Beat in the lime juice and lime peel. Add dry ingredients and buttermilk alternately to the butter/sugar/egg mixture in three stages. Divide the batter between twelve cupcake liners. Bake 20 to 25 minutes. (Mine took 22 minutes—check with a toothpick to see if they are done. And don’t overcook or they will come out dry!) Cool ten minutes and then remove from the pan and cool completely.

  Icing

  1 (8 oz.) package cream cheese, softened

  1 stick butter, softened

  1 cup powdered sugar

  1 tablespoon finely grated lime peel (zest of about 2 limes, depending on size)

  1⁄2 teaspoon vanilla

  Beat all the ingredients together until soft. Then frost the cupcakes—this is a very generous helping of rich icing. If you like less frosting, you can reduce the amount of cream cheese and butter, or freeze the excess for another use. Refrigerate the frosted cupcakes if not serving immediately, but then serve at room temperature.

  Lucy Burdette’s Go-Anywhere Granola

  Ingredients

  4 cups rolled oats

  1 cup slivered almonds

  1 cup broken pecan pieces

  3⁄4 cup shredded unsweetened coconut

  1⁄4 cup, plus 2 tablespoons dark brown sugar

  1⁄4 cup, plus 2 tablespoons maple syrup (use the real stuff!)

  1⁄4 cup vegetable oil (I use canola)

  3⁄4 teaspoon salt

  1 cup dried cherries (or raisins if you like them better)

  Preheat the oven to 250ºF. Mix oats, almonds, pecans, sugar, and coconut in a bowl. Combine syrup, oil and salt, and then mix into the grains and nuts. Now comes the only time-consuming part: spread the uncooked granola on baking trays. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes, stopping every 15 minutes to stir the mixture so it browns evenly. Cool and add cherries or raisins. Store in an airtight container, but don’t expect it to last very long. It also freezes well. Serve with milk or yogurt.

  Lucy Burdette’s One-Bowl Chocolate Cake

  When it came time to pick a pen name for my new Key West food critic series, I didn’t hesitate. I chose my maternal grandmother’s name, Lucille Burdette, aka Lucy. I don’t know if she was ever called Lucy, as she died when I was only five or six. But I do have a few oil paintings that she did and a few memories of her as a sweet, warm grandmother.

  I imagine that she might have been a good cook, as my mother and both of her sisters loved to get together for dinners and holiday meals. And recently, when sorting madly through my messy (ulp!) drawer of recipes, I found a recipe for chocolate cake from Nana, aka Lucille Burdette. I tried the cake out on two confirmed chocoholics. They both had seconds.

  1⁄2 cup Crisco (I am not a fan, so I use a stick of butter)

  1 cup sugar

  1⁄2 cup Hershey’s cocoa

  1 egg

  1⁄2 cup sour milk (or sweet, with 1 tablespooon vinegar added)

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  11⁄2 cups all-purpose flour

  1⁄4 teaspoon salt

  1⁄2 cup boiling water

  My grandmother’s instructions were as follows: Put all ingredients into bowl and mix. Bake as usual.

  Here’s my interpretation: Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Beat softened butter and sugar until well combined. Add the other ingredients one at a time, mixing after each. Grease a bundt pan, add the batter, and bake for about 30 minutes until cake springs back when touched. Cool for ten minutes and then invert onto a cake plate.

  Sift powdered sugar over the top when completely cool and serve with ice cream!

  *Note about squeezing limes or lemons: Did you know that the jaw is one of the strongest parts of the body? If you are willing to taste the tartness of the lime and lemon skins, the most effective way to squeeze juice out of a fruit is to cut it in half and chomp down—juice will release into bowl.

  Read on for a sneak peek

  at the next Key West Food Critic Mystery.

  Coming in early 2014 from Obsidian!

  1

  I’m in an open relationship with salt and butter.

  —Michele Catalano

  Faster than a speeding KitchenAid mixer, I scraped the freshly squeezed lime juice and zested lime peel into the bowl and beat the batter to a creamy pale green. Inside the oven, the first set of cupcakes rose gracefully, releasing their sweet citrus fragrance into the tiny galley of our houseboat.

  Then my cell phone bleated: Jim Snow. AKA Dad.

  My father isn’t big on phone conversations. My father isn’t big on conversations, period. Clients, he has to butter up because he needs something from them. But I could count on the fingers of one hand the times we’d chatted since my near-arrest for murder last fall.

  So when his name flashed on the screen, I set down the whisk, abandoning the “do not answer” policy I’d adopted in order to survive the week leading up to my
best friend Connie’s wedding. Something had to be wrong.

  “Hi, Dad. What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful, when wary was what I felt.

  “Good news, Hayley Snow!” he said with the faux heartiness he reserved for business associates. And using my full name, which he reserved for times I’d gotten into trouble. “The whole family’s coming to the wedding.”

  I whooshed out a breath of relief—he was just lagging a beat and a half behind his wife. “I know. Allison RSVP’d weeks ago. You’re all set with a corner suite at the Casa Marina. You’ll love everything but the bill.” My stepmother, Allison, was organized to a fault. She had to be as a chemist, though why that didn’t translate into an ability to follow a simple recipe was beyond me. Hopeless in the kitchen, my mom always said, when she couldn’t restrain herself from an edgy comment.

  The oven timer began to ding. I donned a red silicone mitten, pulled the cupcakes out, and slid them onto the stovetop.

  “The whole family,” my father repeated. “Rory’s coming too.”

  “Rory’s coming?”

  My fifteen-year-old stepbrother. To be honest, I was already stressed about the upcoming week, visualizing how I might handle the family dynamics between my mother and her new boyfriend, whom I hadn’t met except on Skype, and my father and stepmother. Not to mention juggling a high-strung bride while baking two hundred cupcakes for her wedding reception. A surly, pimply teenage boy would not, no way, be an asset.

  “I was hoping you could find him a place to sleep. Otherwise he’ll end up on the couch in our sitting room.” Dad’s voice rolled out ominously, like the music from Jaws. I was pretty certain he didn’t care much for Rory either—only he didn’t have the luxury of saying so.

  “I don’t think I can, Dad. You guys are arriving today. It’s spring break. The hotels in Key West have been sold out for months. I might be able to get a bead on a bunk in a youth hostel. But between us, I think that’s asking for trouble.”