‘For ever … I’ve been sitting here on the desk …’
Charlotte peered into the gloomy office area.
‘In the darkest corner,’ repeated the young man with a spooky voice. And he gave a loud diabolical laugh. ‘Happy Hallowe’en, Mademoiselle!’
But Charlotte’s celebratory mood was evaporating.
‘The whole time …?’
The young man nodded with a mischievous smile.
‘I’m so sorry!’ Charlotte exclaimed, blushing bright red.
She set her empty glass down on her chair and flapped her hands in front of her face, trying to cool it down a little. She felt ashamed that a complete stranger – even if they did share the same native language – had been watching her as she’d been relishing her food and drink! And taking off her clothes. And dancing …
The young man was still looking at her and he laughed again, but sympathetically now.
‘What have you got to be sorry for? What a spicy treat it was to just look at you! And I’m happy to see the pumpkin’s real face. I’ve never seen such a big one – I mean such a big pumpkin costume. And the beautiful dark eyes, so sexy! And the beret! The perfect French touch!’
‘Where’s your costume?’ Charlotte asked, looking the young man up and down, dressed as he was in jeans and a white shirt.
‘Vanished!’ he answered, gesturing with a wave of his hand towards the ceiling.
‘That’s why I was in the dark, since you have to wear fancy dress for this party.’
‘Pretty much like me.’
‘Actually, believe it or not, I was wearing something worse than your costume. I was dressed as a gigantic carrot with a black French moustache, a pince-nez and a dark top hat.’
Over his shoulder Charlotte was trying to see the ridiculous outfit he’d left on a chair, now hanging limply.
‘You’re pulling my leg?’ She burst out laughing, and began to feel much more relaxed.
‘It was simply for a stupid bet, but I made twenty bucks because I walked down the street wearing it.’
Charlotte couldn’t restrain herself. She laughed wholeheartedly – her inhibitions cast aside at the comedy of the situation, and with the effects of the cocktail. Picturing herself as a pumpkin with a beret, and the young man as a carrot with a French moustache, was too much for her.
‘Watching you – I should say, admiring you – has been the best thing about the whole evening.’
Well, he’s definitely got some nerve for a guy this side of the pond, Charlotte thought. By then she didn’t know whether or not she should stop laughing. It might be his French heritage, she decided, but nerve or not, he is so charming!
Yes, this young man was much more daring than any Americans she’d met since she’d been here. He was the first man who had ever flirted so openly with her, and she had been to quite a few parties in the last two months.
‘Michael Deschênes,’ he said, offering his hand and smiling infectiously.
‘Charlotte Farisier! Let’s have a toast,’ exclaimed Charlotte, thrilled to meet a French native from the New World for the first time. Actually, she was dying to go to Quebec. It would be fascinating to hear and to read French in North America, land of great cold and wide expanses. She had also always admired the determination involved in keeping French as the first language in an area of the world surrounded by imperialistic English.
‘Oh, but my glass is empty!’ Charlotte remembered she’d been about to go for a refill when Michael had appeared.
‘Mine as well.’ Michael raised an empty beer glass. ‘What are you drinking?’
‘Just ask for the special cocktail of the evening. Melina will make one for you.’
Charlotte described what the drink was.
‘It sounds incredibly exotic compared to my pumpkin-brewed beer. I’ll get one for myself as well. I’ll be right back.’
It took less than two minutes for Michael to return with the drinks.
‘Had to be fast in order to avoid the “Where is your carrot costume” questions. It’s lucky I put these ridiculous dark glasses on! I found them on the desk where I was sitting.’
‘It’s lucky for me that nobody knows me here,’ asserted Charlotte, ‘so they can’t tell me I’m not following the rules of the party – except Kathy, my roommate, who is a good friend of Melina’s. But she seems to have disappeared …’
‘Like a ghost …’
‘More like a bimbo witch, actually, and with a fat Garfield lookalike!’
Michael laughed.
‘Let’s have a toast to the Je me souviens motto, the maxim of my belle province!’
‘To Je me souviens!’
‘What about more food? I haven’t eaten much, being too busy staring at you.’
Charlotte put the huge sunglasses on and was as quick getting the food as Michael had been with the drinks, not because she cared if people saw her without her pumpkin costume, but because she was eager to get back to Michael. She came back with three plates laden with food.
‘Try the cold chicken curry salad. It’s exquisite!’
‘I know,’ answered Michael with a big smile.
‘You like it too?’
‘I made it.’
He is charming and he knows how to cook! Awesome … Charlotte thought excitedly.
Sitting in the dark little office area, Charlotte and Michael had a terrific time chatting about what was on their plates, amongst many other subjects. No one could really see them, but they could see the rest of the party, which was even more amusing for them. To Charlotte, it was like sitting in the window of the little café she went in back home, watching the passers-by.
She moved on to talk about her beloved belle France, and Michael about his belle province. The place you’re from often seems more appealing when you’re away from it, and they really enjoyed talking about their home cities.
I’m having such a great time, I want it to last for ever, Charlotte found herself thinking, smiling up into Michael’s twinkling eyes. Time should stop right here …
Suddenly a hideous bony hand with long black nails crept over Michael’s shoulder. A witch, with long orange hair, who appeared to Charlotte to be both extremely ugly and extremely beautiful at the same time, leant down to say something in Michael’s ear. Her black-toothed mouth then greeted Charlotte, who frowned in reply.
What does this witch creature want? Is she Michael’s girlfriend? All at once Charlotte was filled with anxiety.
The creature then left as fast as she had appeared.
Michael turned back to Charlotte. ‘I’m sorry to cut short such a lovely time, but I’ve got to leave. You really are very attractive and it’s been a real joy meeting you. I’ve had such a great time! Thank you so much. Au revoir!’ He kissed her hand, then disappeared into the crowd without looking back.
Charlotte was flabbergasted. She’d hardly had a chance to say ‘Au revoir’. Everything had happened so fast! He’d thanked her, and then vanished into thin air? But she had hoped they would arrange to see each other again. They’d talked as if they had known each other for ever, and they shared a common French heritage. How long had they sat together? A couple of hours? She couldn’t say. And hadn’t there been a frisson of shared sensuality over the food they’d enjoyed? Such a special moment couldn’t end there!
Charlotte caressed her hand where Michael had kissed her. The atmosphere of this strange party was very much in keeping with the mysteries of this haunting night. Had she been dreaming? Was she going to wake up with a Hallowe’en Special cocktail in her hand and food in her mouth, appreciating life without a man, as she’d been doing earlier? No, Michael’s floppy carrot costume was still heaped untidily on its chair. Their empty plates and the huge dark glasses were resting on the floor.
Michael Deschênes … She knew his name now. She wrote it a few times on a paper napkin, as if she were afraid she might forget it even though it was emblazoned in her memory.
Charlotte threaded her way throug
h the crowd, hoping to step outside to see if she could catch a final glimpse of Michael. But suddenly, on the edge of the dance floor, a firm hand grabbed her and halted her progress.
‘Charlotte, here you are! Why did you take your costume off?’ But Kathy didn’t give Charlotte time to answer. ‘Let me introduce you …’
Charlotte greeted the fat Garfield lookalike, who then went to get some drinks for them.
‘Sorry that I didn’t spend much time with you. Wait until I tell you the whole story … I hope you haven’t spent the evening by yourself.’
‘By myself? No.’ Charlotte told Kathy about Michael.
‘I don’t know any Michael here tonight. Was he—’
Kathy didn’t get any further because a group of wild, spooky black-and-orange creatures dragged the two of them on to the dance floor. Charlotte decided to join the dancers, making sure that she kept the paper napkin with Michael’s name on it safely in her bra, as if it were the only proof of the reality of their encounter.
Well, you don’t have such a great time with me and then vanish like some kind of ghost, my dear Michael. We’re going to meet again and then you can explain to me who that witch was! I’ll make sure of it, Charlotte vowed. Besides, I want the recipe for that exquisite cold chicken curry salad.
Orange-Coloured Recipes for a Halloween Potluck
Each recipe serves 6.
Hallowe’en Cocktail
For each cocktail, mix 1 tbsp peach or apricot brandy and 1 tbsp mango juice in a champagne flute. Top up with champagne.
Kathy’s Carrot and Blood-Orange Salads
For the carrot salad:
5 carrots, peeled
1 garlic clove, crushed
2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp cumin seeds
sea salt and ground black pepper
1 tsp chopped fresh coriander
For the blood-orange salad:
1 small red onion, finely chopped, sprinkled with salt and set aside for 10 mins
3 blood-oranges, pared and sliced thinly
1 cup (120g) black olives
2 tbsp olive oil
½ tsp cumin seeds
pinch each of ground ginger and paprika
1 tsp each chopped fresh coriander and mint, to serve
1. Cook the carrots whole in salted boiling water until just tender (about 15 mins). Drain and leave to cool, then slice thinly.
2. In a large bowl, mix together the crushed garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, cumin seeds, salt, pepper and coriander. Toss the carrots gently with the dressing.
3. Rinse the onion and dry on kitchen paper. Spread the orange slices over one half of a serving dish. Arrange the onion over the oranges, followed by the olives. Drizzle over the olive oil and sprinkle with the cumin seeds, ground ginger and paprika. Spoon the carrot salad on to the other half of the serving dish. Refrigerate for an hour. Sprinkle the salads with the coriander and mint just before serving.
Michael’s Chicken Curry Salad
For the chicken:
2 tbsp flour
2 tbsp mild curry powder
½ tsp chilli powder
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp ground ginger
1 bay leaf
sea salt and ground black pepper
500g chicken breasts, sliced
juice of 1 lemon
For the salad:
1 cup (200g) split red lentils
5 cups (1.25 litres) chicken stock
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped
2 orange peppers, roughly chopped
2 tomatoes, roughly chopped
2 carrots, roughly chopped
½ cup (80g) sultanas
For the dressing:
5 tbsp mayonnaise
5 tbsp yogurt
juice of 1 lemon
pinch of saffron
salt and freshly ground pepper
To serve:
½ cup (60g) crushed peanuts
1 orange, pared and segmented, the segments cut into small pieces
finely chopped fresh coriander
1. Mix the flour, spices and seasoning in a shallow dish. Add the chicken pieces and toss to coat, then squeeze over the lemon juice. Cover the bowl with cling film and leave to marinate in the fridge for at least 2 hours.
2. Pick over and rinse the lentils. Bring 4 cups (1 litre) chicken stock to the boil, add the lentils, reduce to a simmer, and cook, covered, for 15 mins, or until just tender. Drain the lentils and allow to cool.
3. Wipe off any excess marinade from the chicken pieces and discard the bay leaf. In a deep frying pan, heat 1 tbsp oil and sauté the chicken until golden. Set aside on a plate.
Heat the remaining 1 tbsp oil in the same pan and sauté the vegetables for 5 mins.
4. Return the chicken to the pan along with the remaining 1 cup (250ml) chicken stock and the sultanas. Simmer gently, uncovered, for 10–15 mins, until the chicken is cooked through and the vegetables are tender. Allow to cool.
5. Mix the mayonnaise with the yogurt in a small bowl. Add the lemon juice and saffron. Season, to taste. In a salad bowl, gently toss together all the ingredients. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Scatter over the crushed peanuts, orange segments and chopped fresh coriander just before serving.
Orangettes (Candied Orange Peel Dipped in Chocolate)
Charlotte’s grandmother’s recipe makes 30-40 chocolates.
3 oranges
6 tbsp Grand Marnier or other orange liqueur
1 cup (200g) caster sugar
200g dark chocolate (70 per cent cocoa), broken into
small pieces
1. Cut the top and bottom off the oranges. Score through the orange peel to divide it in four before peeling the oranges. Squeeze 2 tbsp juice from one of the peeled oranges and set aside.
2. Bring a pan of water to the boil, add the orange peel quarters and boil for 5 mins. Drain, rinse and boil in fresh water for another 5 mins. Drain and dry on kitchen paper. Cut into approx. ½ in (1cm) x 2 in (5cm) strips.
3. To make the syrup, heat ½ cup (125ml) water, 4 tbsp orange liqueur, sugar and orange juice in a small pan. Bring to the boil, then add the orange strips, reduce the heat right down and cook over the lowest possible heat for 1½ hours, checking from time to time that the mixture has not gone dry (add a drop more water if needed). Allow to cool, leaving the strips to macerate in the syrup for at least 8 hours or overnight.
4. Drain the candied orange strips and dry, spaced out on a wire rack, for about 8 hours.
5. In a bowl set over a pan of simmering water, melt the chocolate slowly with the remaining 2 tbsp orange liqueur. Do not stir until the chocolate has completely melted. Dip two-thirds of every strip of candied orange into the chocolate, leaving one-third of the peel exposed. Leave to dry, well spaced out on a sheet of baking parchment, until the chocolate hardens completely.
November
The Best Ever Turkey
‘A cook, when I dine, seems to me a divine being, who from the depths of his kitchen rules the human race. One considers him as a minister of heaven, because his kitchen is a temple, in which his oven is the altar.’
Marc-Antoine Madeleine Désaugiers, 1772–1827, French composer, dramatist, songwriter
Why was it so hard to convince people that even if I was thirty-nine, I wasn’t in the least bit worried about being single again? Distressed? No! Relieved? Yes! Yet no one ever seemed to believe me. And, anyway, why should I have to explain anything? I didn’t care whether or not other people were in relationships; they could do whatever they pleased so long as they were content, and didn’t bother me with their, Oh, that’s a pity, to still be single at your age, Victoria – and what about children?
Well, there I was: close to my fortieth birthday, on my own once more and pretty pleased about it! Some say that life begins at forty. I was looking forward with enthusiasm to that new decade of wisdom.
As I sat on my porch, hap
pily contemplating my future, the ocean seemed even more beautiful than usual in the softer light of the cold season. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The big waves and the wind were raising a gentle spray that I could feel through the porch windows.
The ocean … that grandiose and captivating expanse of water without which I could hardly contemplate living. Some diffused sunbeams illuminated its immensity and I shivered with intense satisfaction.
Hmm! The strong iodine smell of the sea was so invigorating. I breathed it in deeply while feeling the soft warmth of the pale sun on my face.
Chipolata, my beloved and faithful cocker spaniel, lay at my feet, snoring peacefully.
The fire burnt low in the fireplace I’d recently had installed in my porch – there was now a fireplace in every room except the bathroom – and I sipped my tea comfortably, warmed by the fire and a thick blanket while I read the latest issue of Gourmet Chitchat. The main article was about cookery classes, which, it said, might become mandatory in high schools. Good, it was about time we thought seriously about what we put on our plates and in our stomachs every day – and the younger we started, the better. Why not teach cooking at school, since so many parents didn’t take the time to educate their children’s palates?
The last few pages featured a piece about the trendy restaurants that had opened in New York, such as the one where you dined in the dark, or others where the menu consisted of food of entirely one colour: yellow, based on eggs, polenta, citrus fruit; or red, with lobster, rare beef, tomatoes, peppers, raspberries … When I saw how pricey these food places were I put the magazine down impatiently and turned my attention back to the ocean waves, preferring nature’s own extravaganza to the latest passing fad.
Actually, Ken would have enjoyed going to fashionable restaurants like that – it was de rigueur if, like him, you belonged to the rich-and-not-famous mob, as I privately called the spoilt young people who had never had to struggle to get whatever they wanted in life.
Freedom Fries and Cafe Creme Page 19
