Dying for a Taste (25 page)
Authors: Leslie Karst
Tags: #FIC022000 Fiction / Mystery & Detective / General
It was good to see Javier back in his chef’s whites again; they suited him way more than the orange had. He waved as I came into the kitchen and then went back to sorting through a box of cherries on the counter.
“The first of the season,” he said, holding up a handful of the flame-colored fruit. “Kate dropped them off this morning along with her regular delivery—‘a free extra,’ she said. I’m going to take the best of ’em to go with my duck and then have Amy use the rest for a
clafoutis
.”
It had been over a week since my—is it too dramatic to call it a “brush with death”? “A brush with beach balls” is what Eric would no doubt say. Ever the wit, he’d been quick to observe, once he knew I was out of danger, that my instincts had been correct. It was just too bad that the beach balls had been a decoration made out of concrete. He also couldn’t resist pointing out that Tony and I had both crashed right in front of the bumper cars ride, which he found amusing to no end.
My collarbone and wrist still hurt. The doctor had told me I’d have to stay off my bike for at least two months, but
the good news was that the pain should start to subside in another week or so.
Upon my release from the hospital, Eric had driven me straight to the police station to make a statement. Based on what I’d told them, they’d been able to get a warrant to search Tony’s house and vehicle. On my advice, they’d confiscated the remains of my beer as well as the vase of white flowers sitting on the kitchen counter. I wasn’t positive, but I had a strong suspicion they’d prove to be poisonous. In addition, they’d seized his computer, some clothes, and the smashed-up truck.
They’d hit the jackpot. Traces of a blood type matching Letta’s had been found on a pair of Tony’s shoes as well as on the floor mat from his truck. It would take a while for the DNA testing to be done, though no one doubted the blood was Letta’s.
The beer would also take several weeks to analyze, but the flowers had been identified as lily of the valley, which not only is highly toxic but, when ingested, causes the very symptoms I experienced: hot flashes, dizziness, hallucinations, and headache. A website I found said that if enough is consumed, it can lead to coma and death from heart failure.
I also learned online that lily of the valley has a bitter flavor with a sweet aftertaste. No wonder he’d served dark beer. And even the water the cut flowers are kept in is poisonous. So he must have poured some of the water into my glass while I was distracted with looking at those photos on the fridge.
Oy
. Miss Marple would never have let that happen.
Tony’s computer had provided incriminating evidence as well. Its browsing history turned up numerous searches over
the past several weeks about poisonous flowers, including both yellow jasmine and lily of the valley.
The idea that he’d been planning to poison me in advance of my turning up at his house was disconcerting. But then again, maybe he merely had the flowers in the vase as a just-in-case? And then, of course, I had to go and show up, asking about that damn vine and reacting to the photo on the fridge. Great timing, that was. So I didn’t know if they’d be able to prove that Tony’s attempt on my life was premeditated, but it didn’t really matter. Letta’s murder clearly was. That, along with the fact that he’d used the lily water on me and then tried to run me down with his truck, would be more than enough to send him away for good. And his brother was likely to get some real time as an accessory to the crime, according to Eric.
I grabbed one of the cherries from the box Javier was picking through and popped it into my mouth. Sweet and juicy.
“Got a minute?” I asked him.
“Sure.”
“Let’s go upstairs.”
He wiped his pink-stained hands on the towel tucked into his apron and followed me up to the office.
I’d been thinking a lot about “things” over the past week. Important things. Or at least things that should be important. Nothing like being poisoned and then almost run over by a truck to make you put stuff in your life into perspective.
And one of those things had been Gauguin.
“I’ve been talking to Shanti about our profit and loss statement,” I said when Javier had gotten settled in the wing chair opposite the desk. “In particular, about how much play we have on the cost side.”
Javier nodded, not sure where I was going with this.
“I’ve also been doing some research into the price of grass-fed beef, pastured pork, and free-range hens.”
“Ah.” He looked relieved.
“And really, it’s not as bad as I would have thought. Look.” I handed him the printout of a price list I’d gotten online. “If we raise our menu prices by just a few dollars, I think we can do it. And then we can advertise as selling only humanely raised meat and sustainable seafood, too. I want to become a part of the Seafood Watch Restaurant Program.” I pulled the pocket guide I’d found at Letta’s house from my purse and showed it to Javier. “This was in Letta’s kitchen,” I said, “so I’m pretty sure she was considering changing the menu. I want to honor her wishes. No more longline-caught tuna. No more imported shrimp . . .”
Javier was smiling.
“What?”
“You. You’re talking real fast, you know?”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I think it’s great how excited you are.”
I set the Seafood Watch card down. “Well, anyway, I just wanted to see what you thought about the idea.”
“Hey, if you think we can do it, then I say let’s do it. You’re the boss.”
“That brings me to the other thing I wanted to discuss.” I’d thought about this over the past week, too, and had finally come to a decision. “As you can no doubt tell, I’ve made up my mind to keep Gauguin. Letta wouldn’t have wanted me to sell, and the more involved I get with the place, the more I realize how much it means to me.
“But at the same time, I’m not ready to just up and quit Solari’s, cold turkey. Even though my dad has said he can get on without me, I know it would be hard for him, more on an emotional level than anything else. And besides, the job brings in good, steady money. So here’s the deal: I’ve talked with my dad, and he’s agreed to let me go to part time—just work there a couple days a week—so I can have time for Gauguin, too.”
Javier was looking at me intently.
“Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a moron. I know it would be wildly unrealistic for me to take over the running of the restaurant, to try to step into Letta’s shoes. Even working just part time at Solari’s, I wouldn’t have the time, and I certainly don’t have the know-how, in any case. But I do want to be involved here in a real way—and not just with the front of the house, like at Solari’s, but with menu planning, food costing and purchasing. Even cooking sometimes.”
At Javier’s look of mock horror, I laughed. “Okay, so maybe I’ll need some extra help with that last one. But the point is, I’ll never be able do it without your help. And I’m thinking a new title for you would be in order, and a salary to go with it. Maybe executive chef?”
He cracked a smile.
“So what do you say? You willing to team up with me? Be the Batman to my Robin, the Simon to my Garfunkel?”
His smile became a wide, toothy grin. “Sounds good to me, Tonto. So how soon do we change the menu?”
Endive and Leek Gratin (Escarole)
(serves 6)
When I decided to try out this recipe from Escarole, I was shocked by the price of the Belgian endive (as much per pound as a good ribeye steak). So although the endive makes for a delicious gratin, if you want to go more on the cheap, You can substitute sliced pan-fried or blanched cauliflower or some other firm vegetable to your liking.
For the leeks, most folks cut off all of the dark green part of the stalks, using only the white. But at Escarole, they leave on about half of the dark green, which imparts a more robust flavor to the dish. Be sure to half the stalks lengthwise and wash away any dirt that may have accumulated between the layers before you slice it up.
Escarole serves this in individual oval ramekins—two escarole halves per person—but for the home cook, making it all together in one casserole works nicely.
Ingredients
4 tablespoons olive oil
3 medium leeks, tops of dark green removed, halved lengthwise and sliced into ½ inch pieces
6 Belgian endives, cut in half (lengthwise)
1½ cups heavy cream
½ cup chicken stock
pinch nutmeg
½ teaspoon white pepper
½ teaspoon salt
½ pound grated Gruyère (or similar Swiss-style) cheese
1 cup panko (Japanese-style bread crumbs)
1 tablespoon melted butter
Directions
Preheat oven to 375°F.
Grease a 9
″
× 13
″
baking pan or casserole with one tablespoon of the olive oil.
Pour another tablespoon of the oil into a heated heavy skillet and sauté the leeks over medium heat until just starting to brown. Dump the leeks into the baking dish and spread evenly over the bottom.
Add another tablespoon of the oil to the skillet, and when it is shimmering, place six of the endive halves cut side down in the pan. When they start to brown, turn them over, add two tablespoons of water, and cover the pan loosely. Continue cooking until the endives are tender (two to three minutes). Remove the endives to the baking dish, arranging them cut side up on top of one-half of the leeks. Pour the last tablespoon of oil onto the skillet and repeat this step with the rest of the endive halves, arranging them on top of the other half of the leeks.
In a medium-sized bowl, mix together the cream, chicken stock, grated cheese, nutmeg, pepper, and salt and pour evenly over the leeks and endives.
Mix together the panko and melted butter in the same bowl and spread evenly on top of the casserole.
Bake until bubbling and golden brown, about thirty minutes. (If it doesn’t brown enough to your liking, you can finish it under the broiler—but keep an eye on it as it can burn quickly!)
Let sit at least five minutes before serving.
Mario’s Linguine With Clam Sauce
(serves 4)
The flat shape of linguine (“little tongues” in Italian) provides the perfect vehicle to soak up this scrumptious sauce. Served with a tossed green salad and crunchy
Francese
bread, the dish makes for a surprisingly easy meal. Mario prefers the old-school method of dumping the cooked clams back into the pot along with the pasta, but for a more elegant presentation, you can plate the linguine first and then arrange the clams around the edge of the bowls.
Any type of clams will work for this dish, but the hard shell varieties—such as littleneck, manila, or cherry stones—have a lot less grit and, if store bought, should already be cleaned and flushed of sand. Discard any clams that have cracked shells or are open and won’t close within a couple minutes after being tapped on the kitchen counter.
Ingredients
3 tablespoons olive oil
6 cloves peeled garlic, thinly sliced (¼ cup)
½ teaspoon red chili pepper flakes (optional)
8 oz. clam juice (1 bottle)
1 cup dry white wine (Mario uses Pinot Grigio)
2 pounds clams
2 tablespoons butter
1 pound dried linguine
½ cup chopped Italian (flat-leaf) parsley
salt and pepper, to taste
Directions
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and start cooking the linguine while you make the sauce.
In another large, heavy pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat until glistening. Add the garlic slices and fry for a minute, stirring often so they don’t burn. Add the chili flakes, if using. When the garlic starts to brown, add the clam juice and wine to the pot and let it simmer until reduced by about a third.
Turn the heat up to high and dump the clams into the pot and cover. When the clams are all open (from four to eight minutes, depending on the type of clams), remove them to a bowl with a slotted spoon and cover the bowl to keep them warm.
Leaving the heat on high, let the sauce boil (uncovered) until reduced by half. Add the butter and let it melt, and then turn off the heat under the pot.
When the linguine is al dente (still slightly firm in the center—cooked eight to ten minutes), drain it and dump it into the sauce pot. Stir well, so all the pasta is coated with sauce. Add
three-fourths of the chopped parsley and salt and pepper to taste, and then add back the clams and any liquid that has collected in the bowl and stir it all together.
Serve in large, shallow bowls and garnish with the remaining parsley.
Nonna’s Sunday Gravy
(serves 8)
This hearty, tomato-based meat stew—called “gravy” by many Italian American families—is traditionally made into two courses: the red sauce served over pasta for the
primo
, and then the meat as the
secondo
with a vegetable
contorno
. But feel free to eat it all together as a meaty sauce over the pasta of your choice, if you prefer.
Ingredients
¼ cup olive oil
1½ pounds beef chuck or short ribs (slightly more if bone-in)
1½ pounds pork chops or shoulder (slightly more if bone-in)
1 pound sweet Italian sausages
2 tablespoons chopped garlic (2–3 cloves)
2 cups coarsely chopped yellow onion (2 med. onions)
1 6-oz. can tomato paste
2 28-oz. cans plum tomatoes
½ bottle hearty red wine (about 2 cups)
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano
1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil
1 tablespoon chopped Italian (flat-leaf) parsley
salt and black pepper
cooked penne, rigatoni, or spaghetti
grated Parmesan, Romano, or other hard Italian cheese
Directions
Cut the beef and pork shoulder into three pieces each and season with salt and pepper.
In batches, so as to not crowd the pot, fry the beef, pork, and sausages over a medium-high heat in half the olive oil (two tablespoons) until golden brown on all sides. Nonna Giovanna likes to prepare her Sunday gravy in an enameled Dutch oven, but any large, heavy pot will do. (Note that it’s best to avoid cast iron, as the acid in the tomatoes can leach out the iron, imparting a metallic taste to the gravy.) Remove the meat to a large plate once browned.
If needed, add the rest of the olive oil to the pot and sauté the onions and garlic over medium heat until the onions are just beginning to brown.
Add the can of tomato paste and stir into the onions and garlic. Continue to cook over medium heat, stirring often, until the paste turns a deep, reddish brown (about five minutes).
Add the two cans of tomatoes, with juice, to the pot. Using a fork and sharp knife, cut the largest tomatoes into quarters and the smaller ones in half. Then add the wine, sugar, and herbs and stir.
Add the meat (along with any liquid on the plate) back to the pot, and stir to cover the meat. If needed, add water so that the liquid in the pot just covers the meat.
Simmer over low heat, partially covered, for three hours, stirring occasionally to keep the meat from sticking to the bottom of the pot.
When done, the meat should be almost falling apart and the sauce fairly thick. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Remove the meat from the pot if you are going to serve it as a separate course. If not, you can cut the meat into smaller pieces and mix it into the sauce, being sure to remove any bones.
Serve the gravy over cooked pasta, topped with grated hard Italian cheese. Garnish with more of the chopped herbs for added color and flavor.