by Hillary Avis
The event was catered by Bethany Bradstreet, who declined to comment for this piece.
Recipes
Corn Chowder
CORN CHOWDER IS THE perfect soup for almost any season. It’s also the perfect base to add vegetables, meat, or seafood!
Ingredients
2 Tb butter
1 Tb olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
½ cup chopped celery
½ cup chopped carrots
1 Tb minced garlic (or ½ Tb garlic powder)
¼ cup flour
6 cups chicken or vegetable stock
2 cups cream or half-and-half
2 russet potatoes, peeled and diced
6 ears of corn (or 4-5 cups of canned or frozen corn)
Salt and pepper to taste
Basil or chive oil (see recipe)
Directions
Heat 2 Tbs butter and 1 Tb olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Sautee the onion, celery, carrots, and garlic until soft. Add flour and stir to coat.
Add the stock and bring to a boil before adding the cream and diced potatoes. Boil for 7–8 minutes until the potatoes are very soft.
Slice the kernels from the ears of corn and add to the pot. Simmer for about 10 minutes, until the corn is soft.
(If you use frozen corn or canned corn, only simmer until heated through—additional cooking time could make the corn tough.)
For a thicker consistency, blend half of the soup and add it back to the pot. Season with salt and pepper. Serve dotted with basil or chive oil or sprinkled with fresh herbs.
Fragrant Herb Oil
HERB-FLAVORED OILS can be used to garnish soups, dip breads, and dress salads.
Ingredients
½ cup packed fresh herbs such as basil, chives, cilantro, or parsley.
1 cup olive oil
Directions
Puree the herbs and oil in a blender until smooth. In a small pot, simmer the mixture over medium heat for one minute. Carefully pour the oil through a fine strainer into a heat-proof container or jar, then strain it again through a coffee filter. Stir the oil as it filters if the filter becomes clogged.
Use oils made with fresh herbs within 24 hours of making. Dilute with more olive oil to desired strength before serving.
Grilled Vegetables
WHETHER YOU COOK THEM indoors or out, these vegetables can be added to soups and make an excellent side dish on their own.
Ingredients
Vegetables of your choice, such as:
Mushrooms
Cherry tomatoes
Bell peppers, cut into pieces
Zucchini, sliced into rounds
Yellow squash, sliced into rounds
Marinade of your choice, such as:
¼ cup olive oil
1 Tb minced garlic
2 Tb lemon juice or red wine vinegar
½ tsp dried oregano
Salt and pepper to taste
Directions
Whisk together marinade ingredients and season with salt and pepper.
If you’re grilling, push vegetable pieces onto skewers, then brush each skewer with marinade and place on a baking sheet. If you’re using the oven, toss vegetables with marinade in a bowl, then spread coated vegetables onto a baking sheet.
Light your grill or preheat your oven to 400 degrees F while the veggies sit for 15 minutes so the flavor of the marinade can infuse them.
Grill or roast vegetables until tender, approximately 10-12 minutes. Serve warm.
Crime Chowder
BETHANY’S INFAMOUS re-constructed, deconstructed chowder! It’s a crowd-pleaser—just leave your pocket pistol out of it.
Ingredients
1 recipe corn chowder
1 recipe grilled vegetables, chopped after cooking
2 cups chopped, cooked cherrystone clams (or two 10-ounce cans baby clams, drained)
1 recipe basil oil
Directions
In a large pot, combine the corn chowder, grilled vegetables, and clams. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally to prevent scorching.
Serve topped with a few drops of basil oil.
Bethany’s Best Cookies
THESE COOKIES ARE AS close to an orange creamsicle as you can get in cookie form! Buttery, melt-in-your mouth little cookies that are great with tea or coffee. While Sharky enjoyed a cookie in the story, these are not for dogs!
Ingredients
1 cup butter (softened to room temperature)
¼ cup sugar
1 cup flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
seeds from ½ vanilla bean (or an additional 1 tsp vanilla extract)
1 tsp fresh orange juice
orange zest
Directions
Heat oven to 350 degrees.
Whip butter and sugar until fluffy. Mix in flour, then add vanilla extract, vanilla bean seeds, orange juice, and orange zest.
Mix well, adding flour if necessary until dough is stiff. Roll into a ball, then pat down into a flat circle. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 15 minutes (but no more than 30 or it will be too hard to roll out).
After chilling, roll the dough between sheets of parchment paper to a quarter-inch thick. Use a small glass or round cutter to cut into circles.
Transfer cookies to a parchment-covered baking sheet. Bake 15–20 minutes, until the edges are golden brown. Transfer cookies to a rack to cool.
Yield: 18–24 cookies, depending on how large you make them.
Sneak Preview
Rest In Split Peas
Book Two in the Death du Jour Mystery Series
Chapter 1
Monday
BETHANY BRADSTREET leaned over the stock pot and inhaled the intoxicating scent of her latest creation. It was almost ready—she just had to whisk in the eggs and lemon juice. She scooped out a few cups of steaming broth into a mixing bowl.
“Do you have a sec to pour for me?”
“Why don’t you use the whisk attachment for the mixer?” Kimmy asked, wiping her hands on her Café Sabine apron.
Bethany shrugged. “I don’t know—I just like to do things by hand. For some reason it tastes different.”
“You’re right. I can always tell when chefs put in the elbow grease. I’d never get plates on tables here at the café if I did everything by hand, though.” Kimmy poured a slow, steady stream of beaten eggs into the broth while Bethany furiously beat the mixture with a whisk so the eggs wouldn’t curdle in the hot soup. “Avgolemono—brave choice. How are you going to make sure it doesn’t turn into scrambled eggs while you serve it?”
Bethany laughed. “Very careful babysitting. That’s the upside of only making one soup per day! It gets all the love.”
“I want some love!” Charley poked her head through the swinging doors of the kitchen. Kimmy rolled her eyes and gave her girlfriend a peck on the lips. Charley shook her head. “No—I meant I want some of Bethany’s soup.”
Kimmy’s mouth dropped open. “Should I be jealous that you like Bethany’s cooking better than mine?”
Charley blinked innocently. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know, because you come by the café every morning now that Bethany makes her soup here, when you never did before?”
Charley kissed Kimmy again. “You know I like your home cooking. All this French stuff at the café is too fancy for me, though. Give me a bowl of comfort food any day.”
Bethany ladled out two servings of the avgolemono and added a pinch of chopped herbs to the top of each. “What would I do without my two professional tasters?” she asked, hoping to stop their argument before it started. She handed them each a spoon.
Kimmy rolled her eyes and dipped her spoon into the bowl. “Fine. Oh, wow, Bethany! This is fantastic. Just the right amount of lemon—and those herbs! Marjoram?” Bethany nodded.
“Mmm,” Charley said. “What did you say this was? Avocado-mole?”
“Avgolemono,” Bethany said
. “It’s Greek.”
“Well, it’s all-good-emono if you ask me.” Charley glanced at her watch. “Can I take it to go? I’ve gotta get to work.”
“Shoot, is it that time already?” Bethany slammed a lid on the stock pot and heaved it onto a dolly. “Come by the kiosk later—law enforcement eats free.”
“Better not tell my buddies that, or you won’t have any left for paying customers.” Charley grinned at Bethany and then tugged the ends of Kimmy’s braids. “I’ll see you later, hon.”
“Hm.” Kimmy crossed her arms. “Will you?”
Charley batted her eyelashes at her girlfriend. “I don’t know—are you going to make those yummy little cookies dipped in chocolate?”
Kimmy motioned to the rows of madeleines cooling on a rack behind her. “Every day.”
“Then you will definitely see me later. Want help loading, Bethany?”
Bethany nodded. “I could use a hand. Thanks for letting me cook here, Kimmy.”
Kimmy patted her on the back. “Don’t let Charley eat it all on the way out.”
Together, Charley and Bethany wheeled the dolly out the back door of Café Sabine and loaded the stock pot onto the cargo trailer hitched to Bethany’s yellow bike.
Charley waved as she mounted her own bike and headed off to the police station. Bethany locked the empty dolly to the bike rack and gingerly pedaled across the street to the train station, careful not to jar the trailer as she navigated the curb and a manhole cover. She dismounted and pushed her bike through a vaulted entrance that seemed a little too grand for such a small depot.
Newbridge Station was as old as the town, but it was tiny—only a single platform in each direction, and the Zamrail trains only ran on weekdays, mostly to service commuters headed to New Haven. The compact concourse housed a small bakery, the ticket office, and a circle of antique benches for passengers to wait on, and not much else. The Souperb Soups kiosk, Bethany’s pride and joy, was squeezed against the wall across from the bakery with another kiosk. Nothing in the station was glamorous except the beautiful arched entryway and vaulted ceiling. Still, it was a lovely, historic building with enough foot traffic that Bethany’s business was brisk.
She wheeled the bike to the back of her kiosk and unloaded the avgolemono onto the warmer, careful not to scuff the worn marble floor. She lit the burner and turned it down as low as it would go so the eggs wouldn’t scramble in the broth. “OK, little soup—be good while I lock up old Daisy, here.”
When she got back, a small line was already forming by her booth, but before she could get behind the counter and start serving, Olive flew out of the Honor Roll Bakery toward her, turquoise earrings jangling and her hands fluttering wildly.
“Oh, honey!” she said, her large brown eyes full of concern. “Don’t look. Just ignore her.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
Olive put her hand over her mouth, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows. “Oh, I can’t even say it—I don’t want it to be true. It’s just too much. She’s just too much.”
Bethany groaned. “Say no more.” She knew exactly who Olive was talking about—only one person in Newbridge was too much for Olive, and that was Marigold Wonder. She rented the kiosk next to Bethany’s and made weird smoothies out of things like mushrooms and algae. Supposed to be healthy. During Marigold’s grand opening last fall, she’d handed out pamphlets of anti-gluten propaganda that Olive did not appreciate, to put it mildly. “What’s she making now, dirt smoothies?”
“Maybe you can hang up a curtain so you don’t have to see it,” Olive said.
Bethany glanced over at Marigold’s kiosk and almost fell on the floor. The booth was shrouded in canvas and had a big banner that said “CLOSED—Grand Re-Opening Tomorrow.” Marigold was teetering on a ladder as she installed a new sign: Souperior Soups.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
Olive shook her head. “I know. I know.”
Bethany marched over to the base of the ladder. “What the heck, Marigold?!”
“Isn’t it amazing?” Marigold picked her way down the ladder, carefully placing her spiked heels on each rung, and gazed up at the sign admiringly. “Newbridge isn’t very health conscious, so the smoothies weren’t really working out here. I looked at your lines”—she motioned to the people standing at Bethany’s kiosk—“and I knew a good idea when I saw one!”
“Maybe if you made your smoothies out of something other than sticks and leaves—” Bethany sputtered.
“Too late now, I already changed the sign. Anyway, making soup is going to be fun! We can be soup buddies. Do you have a mirror? I probably look awful after sweating over all the renovations.” Marigold fluffed her bleach-blonde curls, her fingers sparkling with rings. “Oh—look who I’m asking. Of course you don’t.”
Bethany’s mouth opened and closed a few times. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Thank goodness for Olive, who bustled over and herded Bethany back to her kiosk before she said something she’d regret.
“Hush now, just serve your soup like you always do. After lunch, go to the stationmaster’s office and file a complaint. You know Ben didn’t approve this!”
Wordlessly, Bethany went through the motions of setting up her kiosk as fast as she could. She wrote “Avgolemono” on the chalkboard, tied on her Souperb Soups apron, and set out her “Soup’s On” sign.
“It’s about time,” the first customer in line said.
Bethany nodded apologetically. “Sorry about the wait. I think this one will be worth it, though.” The avgolemono was still looking creamy and perfect, the fresh scent of lemon and herbs lingering on its surface, the comforting chew of orzo floating underneath. Just right for a bright winter day.
“Can I get bread with this?” a tall, thin man she didn’t recognize asked. First-timer.
Bethany pointed to the bakery just a few feet away. “The Honor Roll has the best bread. Ask Olive for something to go with the soup—she’s great at pairings.”
“Thanks!” The man headed for the bakery, his steaming container of soup in hand. Wouldn’t be surprised to see him back tomorrow, Bethany thought, as she served soup to the long line of loyal customers. One of them even proclaimed the avgolemono her “best soup yet,” and he’d tried them all.
“Lots of happy diners today,” Charley said, leaning on the counter. “Did I miss my chance for lunch?”
“Nope, still got a bowl or two. The bottom of the pot is always the best, anyway.” Bethany ladled a generous portion into a to-go container and handed it to Charley with a spoon. “Here you go—on the house.”
“Yikes, sold out and it’s not even noon. You better start making two pots of soup.”
Bethany grinned. “I don’t know. A one-hour workday isn’t so bad.”
Charley rolled her eyes. “You work a lot more than one hour. Think about all the time you spend in the kitchen!”
“Doesn’t feel like work, I guess.”
“Um, excuse me?” the customer in line behind Charley piped up. “Are you really out of soup?”
“See you later,” Bethany said to Charley, and then raised her voice so the person behind Charley could hear. “No, ma’am, still have enough for you.” Charley moved aside, affording Bethany a view of the customer, and Bethany froze.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Marigold said. She plunked her bedazzled purse on the counter and pulled out an overstuffed wallet. “I just had to try it—it smells so good. How much do you charge?”
Bethany put the lid back on the stock pot with a clang. “Why do you want to know? So you can charge less for yours?”
Marigold waved her hand. “Oh, no. I’ll charge exactly the same. I wanted to know so I can pay you.”
“Oh,” Bethany said in a small voice. Of course, Marigold just wanted lunch—there was no reason to be so suspicious all the time. “No charge, Marigold. I hope you enjoy it.”
“Well, aren’t you a peach?” Marigold took the bowl of soup and s
lurped it noisily. Bethany tucked away her “Soup’s On” sign and erased the chalkboard now that the avgolemono was gone. Marigold licked her spoon and pointed it at Bethany. “This is some excellent soup. You know what would be a blast?”
Knowing Marigold, she probably meant putting glitter on something that should not be glittery. “No, what?”
“We should soup-swap every day! We can trade our soups-of-the-day so we can taste each other’s recipes.”
Bethany needed to eat more soup like she needed a hole in the head, but figured it wasn’t worth discussing the finer points of her diet with Marigold. “Sure. Uh, fine—as long as your soup doesn’t have algae in it.”
“You’re such a silly-goose!” Marigold poked her spoon at Bethany again. “Silly-willy-billy-goose! Oh, we are going to have so much fun. Toodles, soup sister!”
“Kill me now,” Bethany muttered under her breath as soon as Marigold left. She carried the stock pot back across the street to Café Sabine, where Kimmy was in the middle of the lunch rush. She peeked into the dining room and saw the café packed with people having business meetings and lunch dates.
Kimmy’s definitely too busy to chat. Bethany would have to tell her about Marigold’s shenanigans that night when Kimmy got home from work. They had been roommates since graduation from culinary school and often had a drink—whether herbal tea or something stiffer—at the end of the day, a ritual they started back when they were both first-year chefs learning to sharpen their knives. Even now that Kimmy was dating Charley, they still made time for it if they could.
“I’m all sold out across the street. Can I pitch in?” she asked. Kimmy seemed to be stirring four pans at once.
Kimmy shook her head, never taking her eyes from the stove. “Nope. If Monsieur Adrien wants me to get food out faster, he needs to hire a chef de partie.”
