Death al Fresco
Page 24
“Well,” Eric replied with a chuckle, “it’s not as if you’ve ever been much thrilled to talk about your feelings.”
“True.” I watched as one of the Frisbee players made a leaping catch, nearly landing on a young woman who’d lain down nearby with a fat textbook. The man leaned over to apologize, prompting a flirtatious laugh from the other. Once the game had recommenced and she’d gone back to her book, they continued to cast shy glances each other’s way.
Eric and I hadn’t been much older than these two students when we’d first met. Could we possibly have seemed so young and naïve in the early days of our courtship?
I turned back to face him. “You have to know how much I care about you.”
“I guess. But what exactly does that mean?”
“It means I’m terrified of risking what we have right now if we try to push it further and go back to where we were before. Because we both know how that ended.”
Eric laid a hand on mine. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? If we can’t make it work this time, it’ll be just like it is now again.”
But I wasn’t convinced. I wasn’t sure either of us could survive a second breakup and simply go back to being friends once more. Especially Eric.
I stared out at the sparkling water. Across the bay, the rugged Santa Lucia range rose above Monterey and Pacific Grove to the south. Eric and I had once gone backpacking in those mountains during out law school years. The best part of the hot and dusty hike had been the meal we’d stopped for afterward in Big Sur. We’d vowed, over fat burgers and frosty pints of beer, to never put each other in such misery again.
Did this count? Was I making him miserable? Was I making myself miserable?
“How soon do I need to decide?” I asked.
“Certainly not right now,” Eric answered, relief in his voice. “Or tomorrow, or even next month. All I’m asking is that you leave yourself open to the possibility.”
“Okay, I can agree to that.” I stood up and took his hand. “C’mon, let’s go paint.”
Spinach Salad With Orange, Fennel, and Black Olives (Solari’s)
(serves 6)
This is the salad my dad, Mario, came up with for the big sister-cities dinner that Solari’s hosted for the visiting dignitaries from Sestri Levante. The combination of the sweet oranges, crunchy fennel, and salty olives makes for a zesty palate cleanser. And because the salad can be prepared in advance and then tossed at the last minute, it’s a terrific side dish for a dinner party of any size, from four to forty guests.
Use only the bulb of the fennel, and core and quarter it before slicing. For the oranges, make sure to remove most of their white pith, as it can be bitter. You can squeeze the two teaspoons of juice needed for the dressing from one of the oranges before cutting it up.
The dressing can be made a day ahead and kept in the fridge; just be sure to take it out at least a half hour before service, and give it a good stir before using.
Ingredients
For the Dressing:
2 teaspoons Dijon-style mustard
¼ teaspoon ground black pepper
½ teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons olive oil (preferably extra virgin)
2 teaspoons orange juice
For the Salad:
2 cups navel oranges, peeled and cut into bite-sized chunks (about 3 large oranges)
2 cups fennel, thinly sliced
1 cup sliced, pitted Greek-style black olives
6 cups baby spinach
salt and pepper
Directions
Mix the mustard, pepper, sugar, and vinegar together in a bowl until smooth and the sugar has dissolved. Slowly drizzle the olive oil into the bowl, using a wire whisk to incorporate it into the other ingredients. (Don’t beat it too hard, or the oil can become bitter.) Once smooth, finish by whisking in the orange juice. Add more juice or a little water if needed to thin to your desired consistency.
Toss all the salad ingredients in a large bowl, then drizzle on the dressing and toss again. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Black Cod with Miso and Sake
(serves 6)
Black cod (also known as sablefish) is a white-fleshed fish from the icy waters off the Pacific Northwest, and is renowned for its velvety texture and rich, buttery flavor (hence its other name, butterfish).
This style of preparing black cod was first popularized by the famous Japanese chef, Nobu Matsuhisa, who marinates his fish for three days before cooking. But I’ve found that one or two days in the marinade is plenty to impart its full flavor to the black cod.
I like to serve this dish with the traditional Japanese garnishes of pickled ginger (gari) and wasabi, and accompany it with sides of steamed rice and roasted bok choy drizzled with soy sauce and sesame oil. But the fish would also pair well with more Western sides such as mashed potatoes and a leafy green salad.
(Note: If you can’t find mirin—a sweet rice wine—you can substitute dry sherry, white wine, or even rice vinegar. Just add an extra tablespoon of sugar to the marinade.)
Ingredients
¼ cup mirin
¼ cup sake
¼ cup white or yellow miso paste
3 tablespoons sugar
6 black cod fillets, about 6 oz. each
vegetable oil for oiling baking sheet and searing fish
Directions
Combine the mirin and sake in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Turn heat to low, add the miso and sugar, and continue to cook, whisking until they have dissolved. Allow to cool, then transfer marinade to a large glass baking dish. Add the fish and turn to coat. Cover and refrigerate between 24 and 48 hours. Let fish come up to room temperature before cooking.
Preheat oven to 400°F and oil a rimmed baking sheet large enough for all the fillets (or you can line it with oiled aluminum foil for easy cleanup).
Scrape marinade from fillets and set them on a platter or baking dish.
Heat a large, heavy skillet over high heat, then add enough oil to create a thin layer on the bottom of the pan. (Use two skillets if necessary, or cook in batches, so as to not crowd the fish.) As soon as the oil starts to smoke, add the fillets, skin side down if they have skin.
Fry until browned, about 2 minutes. Then flip fillets onto the oiled baking sheet, browned side up, and bake until opaque and flaky—5 to 10 minutes, depending on the thickness of the fish.
Tagliarini with Brown Butter, Sage, and Porcini Mushrooms (Solari’s)
(serves 4-6)
Tagliarini is an egg pasta from Northern Italy, similar to its wider and more famous cousin, tagliatelle (the name comes from the verb tagliare, to cut). These thin, flat ribbons are often served with butter and truffles, but Mario prefers the earthy notes supplied by the porcini mushrooms and sage. If you can’t find tagliarini, feel free to substitute tagliatelle or fettuccine.
Note that unlike many other pastas, tagliarini cooks extremely quickly—in three or four minutes for dried, one or two minutes for fresh.
Porcini means “little pigs” in Italian and is their name for the sumptuous mushroom known as the “king bolete” in the U.S. and as cèpes in France. You can substitute dried porcini for this recipe (soak them in boiling water for twenty minutes before using), or use crimini—those small, brown button mushrooms—if you can’t find porcini.
Ingredients
¼ pound (1 stick) butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound porcini mushrooms, sliced
½ cup sage leaves, coarsely chopped if large (plus extra for garnish)
1 pound tagliarini pasta
1 tablespoon salt
1 cup grated Parmesan or Pecorino cheese
freshly ground black pepper to taste
Directions
Melt the butter in a thick-bottomed pan over low heat. Continue cooking, stirring frequently to prevent burning, until the foam subsides and the butter begins to turn brown—about five mi
nutes. (Watch carefully, as it can burn quickly.) Add the sage leaves and stir, and continue to cook another five minutes or so. Once the butter starts to release a nutty aroma and the sage becomes crisp, the sauce is done. Take the pan off the heat and set aside.
In a separate large frying pan, heat half the olive oil over medium heat and, when shimmering, add half the mushrooms. Spread them out in one layer and let sit without stirring until they turn a golden brown. Then stir and cook another minute or two, till cooked through. Remove with a slotted spoon to a bowl and repeat with the rest of the oil and mushrooms. Return the cooked mushrooms to the pan and set aside. (The brown butter/sage and the mushrooms can be prepared up to several hours in advance.)
Bring a large (at least 4 quart) pot of water to a boil.
Add the tagliarini and salt to the boiling water, and cook over high heat until al dente (still slightly firm in the center, 3–4 minutes if dried), stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. (If using dried fettuccine, it will take 10–12 minutes to cook.)
While the pasta is cooking, reheat the brown butter/sage and the mushrooms over medium heat.
Drain pasta and dump into a large serving bowl (without rinsing). Add the brown butter/sage and toss, then add mushrooms and half the cheese and toss again. Add salt to taste.
Serve garnished with the rest of the grated cheese, a few fresh sage leaves, and freshly ground black pepper.
Duck à la Lilikoi (Gauguin)
(serves 6)
Lilikoi is the Hawaiian word for passion fruit, the juice of which can often be found in the frozen food section of Latin American grocery stores (called maracuyá). If you use fresh fruits, four should yield about ⅓ cup. Cut them in half, scoop out the pulp, juice, and seeds, and press through a strainer. If you can’t fine passion fruit, feel free to substitute orange juice—but be sure to cut down (or omit entirely) the sugar in this recipe.
The sauce can be made while the duck is cooking, but at Gauguin we make it in advance and reheat as much as needed for each order immediately before service. I recommend doing this, as it’s easier not to have to worry about it while you’re frying the duck (and making whatever sides you’re serving with the dish).
Ingredients
4 tablespoons butter (half stick)
¼ cup brandy
⅓ cup passion fruit juice (frozen, bottled, or fresh)
5 teaspoons sugar
6 duck breasts
salt and pepper
Directions
For the Sauce:
Melt the butter in a sauté pan over low to moderate heat and, once melted, let it simmer for one to two minutes, stirring frequently so it doesn’t burn. Carefully pour in the brandy and cook another minute.
Add the passion fruit juice and the sugar and continue cooking, stirring frequently, for another minute or two, until the sauce thickens. Set aside.
For the Duck Breasts:
Slice through the fat on the breasts—but not into the meat—at half-inch intervals, then rotate breasts and score again (i.e., making a cross-hatch design). Season both sides of breasts with salt and pepper.
Using two large, heavy skillets (cast iron works great), place three breasts in each, skin side down, then turn on fire to low to medium heat. The idea is to slowly render the fat so you are left with crispy, golden-brown skin. The rendering process can take 10 to 15 minutes, and be sure to drain off any excess fat from the pan as necessary. (Save the luscious fat for later use—it’s great for frying sliced potatoes!)
Once the skins are golden brown and crispy, turn the breasts over and continue to fry until they reach your desired doneness. Duck breast is traditionally served medium-rare (to an internal temperature of about 135° F), but feel free to cook longer if you prefer.
Remove breasts to a cutting board, cover, and let rest for five minutes. Reheat sauce while breasts are resting.
Cut breasts into half-inch slices, then fan out on serving plates and drizzle with sauce.
Also available by Leslie Karst
Dying for a Taste
A Measure of Murder
Author’s Note
As Sally does with her painting, I have taken some liberties in this book and have rearranged the layout of the Santa Cruz Municipal Wharf to suit the needs of the story. Those familiar with the area may notice that I have added an additional boat launch, and have also moved the bocce court much closer to the old fishing vessel, the Marcella. And of course, since Solari’s is a fictional restaurant, its invention throws off the locations of other real-life establishments on the wharf.
Author Biography
Leslie Karst has degrees in English literature, law, and culinary arts. After graduating from Stanford Law School, she worked for twenty years as a research and appellate attorney before retiring. Karst now spends her time cooking, gardening, cycling, singing alto in the local community chorus, and of course writing. She and her wife, Robin, and their Jack Russell mix, Ziggy, split their time between Santa Cruz, CA and Hilo, HI. This is her third Sally Solari mystery.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reaction to the recipes contained in this book.
Copyright © 2018 by Leslie Karst.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-68331-532-2
ISBN (ePub): 978-1-68331-533-9
ISBN (ePDF): 978-1-68331-534-6
Cover illustration by Hiro Kimura
Book design by Jennifer Canzone
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
Crooked Lane Books
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First Edition: March 2018
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