Peach Salsa
6 fresh peaches, seed and skin removed, diced
1/2 cup sweet onion, diced
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 fresh jalapeño, seeded and diced
1/2 bunch cilantro, finely chopped
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
Juice of 1 lime
In a large bowl, combine all ingredients. Cover and refrigerate for 2 hours before serving. Store in refrigerator for up to 1 week.
KA Note: I’m not gonna lie. As noted above in my Monte Cristo babble, I’m not about adding sweet with savory. So when Suzanne put peach salsa with pork, my first thought was, “Euw.” But if we did all the same things all the time, ate all the same things, listened to all the same music, etc., life would be super boring. So I gave it a go.
And…stop.
This peach salsa is the best salsa I have ever tasted in my life. And trust me, I’ve tested some salsa. Mixed with the pork, it’s a taste explosion of such crazy goodness, it’s mind boggling.
Making it better, the salsa keeps and it makes your refrigerator smell like fruity-spicy yumminess every time you open it. It’s like a mini-fiesta whenever you need something from the fridge. Do yourself a favor and try this. You’ll love it.
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Apple Stuffed Pork Chops
2 tablespoons onion, chopped
3 tablespoons butter, softened
4 slices of bread, toasted and crumbled
2 cups finely chopped granny smith apple
1/2 teaspoon sage
1/2 teaspoon thyme
6 bone-in pork chops (1-inch thick)
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
1 tablespoon oil
In a small skillet over medium heat, sauté onions in butter until tender. Remove from heat and add the bread crumbles, apples, sage and thyme. Cut a pocket in each chop by making a horizontal cut through the meat almost to the bone. Sprinkle inside and outside with salt and pepper and spoon stuffing loosely into pockets. In a large skillet over high heat, add oil and brown the chops on both sides for 2 minutes each. Place in an ungreased 9x13-inch baking dish. Cover with foil and bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Uncover and bake 30 minutes longer or until a thermometer reads 145 degrees. Allow to rest for 5 minutes before serving.
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Axl’s Desserts
Turtle Pie
1 cup light corn syrup
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
2 tablespoons melted butter
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups crushed pecans
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 deep-dish pie crust
Caramel Glaze (Click here for recipe.)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix together the corn syrup, sugar, eggs, butter, and vanilla until smooth. Add pecans and chocolate chips, then mix well. Pour into pie crust and bake for 1 hour. Remove from oven and drizzle with Caramel Glaze. Cool on wire rack for 1 hour before slicing.
Caramel Glaze
4 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/4 teaspoon salt
In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt butter. Add the brown sugar and cook, stirring constantly for 1 minute. Add heavy cream and salt. Bring to a boil and continue cooking for 2 minutes. Remove from heat and cool for 15 minutes before drizzling over turtle pie.
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Coca-Cola Cake
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 can Coca-Cola
2 sticks butter, melted
1/4 cup cocoa powder
2 eggs
1/2 cup buttermilk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Chocolate Glaze (Click here for recipe.)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, whisk the first 3 ingredients until combined. In a small bowl, combine cola, melted butter and cocoa. Add to flour mixture, stirring just until blended well. Add in eggs, buttermilk and vanilla extract. Blend until combined, then pour into a 9x13-inch greased baking dish. Bake 25-30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Remove from oven and pour Chocolate Glaze over hot cake. Allow to cool for 5-10 minutes before slicing.
Chocolate Glaze
1/2 cup Coca-Cola
1 stick butter, melted
1/4 cup cocoa powder
4 cups powdered sugar
In a large bowl, whisk together the Coca-Cola, butter and cocoa. Next, add in the powdered sugar 1 cup at a time until everything is combined.
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Dr. Pepper Cake
Suzanne Note: This cake came to be when, instead of Coca-Cola in the fridge, all I had was Dr. Pepper. It was an experiment that turned out AMAZING! To make this deliciousness, substitute Dr. Pepper for Coca-Cola and follow Coca-Cola Cake recipe. (Click here for recipe.)
KA Note to Suzanne’s Note: I always giggle when I read that Suzanne used the word “deliciousness.” No clue why, I used it too. But with Suzanne, it’s damned cute.
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Chapter Five
Messin’ with Family
KA
Two weeks later…
After visiting with High, Tack, and my babies, I have dinner at Las Delicias with some friends.
This runs long, and I get a text in the middle of it.
A text that contains an order from someone I can’t ignore, but even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.
My plan is to head back to Hotel Teatro to get some shut-eye so I can get up early, have time to get gussied up, and caffeinate before I need to get on the road to drive into the foothills to have breakfast with Tack, Tyra and their boys.
But instead, I head to Colorado Boulevard.
Yeah.
I’m going to Smithie’s.
I’m told my text from him will circumvent the velvet rope outside, and once I find a parking spot in the packed lot and head to the front door, I flash my phone screen to the bouncer and discover it does.
Under the baleful glare of the folks waiting in line, I’m ushered in, and with word from one bouncer to the other which ends with me being passed off from door bouncer to inside bouncer, I’m under escort.
In other words, I’m being marched to the staircase at the side of the strip club, beyond the bar.
A staircase that will lead me up to the office of the big man.
Smithie.
I want to dawdle, though I’m not given a choice.
Things are changing at Smithie’s, and I’ve been hoping I could check it out.
Since that isn’t an option, I take the option open for me and scan the space to see if I can find him.
I do.
Side wall, next to the door to the hall that leads to the bathrooms.
There’s a fire exit at the end of that hall.
Jet staved off an attacker in that hall.
When Sadie was kidnapped, she was carried down that hall.
Now, Dorian “Ian” Walker, Smithie’s nephew, the man Smithie was grooming to take over the club, has his wide shoulders to that wall.
Even in the darkened club, I can see the collared shirt he’s wearing is pure class and pure quality.
I can also see his pecs bulging above his forearms crossed over his chest.
Hawt.
Ian isn’t watching the stage.
He also doesn’t have his eye on the crowd.
He’s looking at me.
I give him a dorky wave.
He doesn’t wave back.
He jerks up his chin.
Yeesh.
These guys.
Then I’m being led up some stairs.
When we make the top, the bouncer raps on the door three times…loudly.
The bouncer opens the door and motions me in.
I go in.
Smithie is sitting behind his desk.
And he’s scowling at me.
Well, hello to you too.
“What’d I do?” I ask as I move in,
The door closes behind me.
“Now, you’re messin’ with family,” he states.
I stop behind one of the chairs in front of his desk and I’m irate.
“After all this time, are you saying you don’t trust me?” I demand.
“He’s my nephew,” he tells me something I know very well.
“And?” I snap.
Smithie sits back in his chair and the litany begins.
“Girl, first time I met you, you were busting up my club.”
I roll my eyes.
“This is after you had one of my waitresses threatened at knife point in my parking lot,” he goes on.
“That wasn’t my fault. That’s on Ray,” I remind him. “Well, not really. It’s on Slick, but only because Ray fucked shit up.”
“The place was a disaster after Eddie lost his mind on that bachelor party,” Smithie recounts.
“What can I say?” I ask on a shrug. “Eddie’s hotheaded.”
“You roofied Sadie in my club,” he reminds me.
“Well…” I say slowly, because that one was rough.
Though, it ended up pretty awesome.
“Do I have to remind you what you did to Daisy?”
I flinch.
That wasn’t awesome at all.
“And the shit Ally got into here…at my club?” he presses on.
Yikes.
“Uh…”
“And for fuck’s sake, woman, Lottie’s stalker?” he clips.
“I will admit, he was serious gross,” I mumble.
“And now you’re eyeing my nephew?” he demands.
“Dorian’s hot,” I say in my defense.
“For fuck’s sake,” Smithie repeats in a mutter to the ceiling.
“And he’s sweet. And a good listener. He’s protective. And a smartass. And he’s really sharp. Not to mention, he dresses amazing,” I go on. “I mean, I can’t not dream up something for him. Are you crazy?”
Smithie aims his eyes at me again and begs, “Please tell me she’s a sister.”
“Uh, duh,” I reply.
He seems mollified by that.
Slightly.
“I’ll tell you somethin’ for nothin’, I’m not looking forward to this,” Smithie declares.
“Smithie, my friend, people wouldn’t read it if it was boring,” I point out.
“Seen movies with couples in boats, the dude’s paddling, the woman sitting there with an umbrella, and he’s reciting poetry. Women dig that shit.”
I burst out laughing.
“I’m not joking,” he says into my laughter.
I round the chair, sit in it, pull my shit together, and say, “Do you honestly want me to put Dorian in a boat and make him recite poetry?”
Smithie’s lips hitch to the side.
“That’s what I thought,” I go on.
“Who’s the woman?” he asks.
“I’m not saying,” I don’t answer.
“Is she a dancer?”
“No.”
“Does he meet her at Fortnum’s?”
“No.”
“Is she a friend of Indy’s?”
“No.”
“Lottie’s?”
“No.”
“Daisy’s?”
“No.”
“Shirleen’s?”
“No.”
“Chaos?”
“No.”
“Ally?”
I say nothing.
Smithie’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.
There’s more bass in his tone when he asks, “She’s a private investigator?”
“Ummmmmmmmmm…” I hum, drawing it out mostly because I sense he’s about to lose it.
Smithie then loses it.
He shoots up out of his chair, shouting, “Holy fuck!”
“Smithie, relax, my man, she’s not a private investigator.”
“Then how does Ally know her?”
I try to look innocent and know I failed when Smithie asks, “Is she a cop?”
“Weeeelllll…”
He falls back into his chair, lands an elbow on the desk, and puts his head in his hand.
Yeah, he senses how much shit is going to go down.
Oh boy.
Smithie straightens on a snap and orders, “Don’t shoot her.”
“I—”
“Or shoot Ian.”
“But—”
“Or kidnap her.”
“Well—”
“Or Dorian.”
“You see—”
“Or injure either of them in any way. Or fuck with their heads. Or—”
I cut him off this time.
“I can’t promise that, Smithie. You know how it is. It happens, that being, they tell me their story, and I write it how it happens. And as you’ve learned, pretty much anything goes.”
“At least tell me this, is she something else?”
I smile big at him.
“She’s dynamite.”
Smithie studies me for a long time.
Finally, he speaks.
“Are you ever gonna be done with us?” He asks this question on a heavy sigh.
“I hope not,” I answer, meaning these words with my whole heart.
“If the results weren’t worth the pain in the ass you are, you wouldn’t leave this club,” he totally lies.
“Don’t try to feed me that, Smithie,” I say, smiling at him. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re a big softie and everyone knows it.” I whirl my hand in the air indicating our current scene. “You don’t fool anybody with this act.”
“Yeah, not a big fan of you letting that cat out of the bag either,” he returns.
I fight rolling my eyes again because that also isn’t on me.
He totally sucks at hiding he’s one of the best guys in the world.
He was the one who gave it to me.
I just wrote about it.
“Are you gonna offer me a drink and a VIP table or what?” I ask, deciding on the fly I could have just one, watch the show for a spell, and still be back to the hotel at a decent (ish) hour to get some rest in before I have to be up in the morning.
“French 75, Hendricks?” he asks back.
I smile at him. “You know me so well.”
“You’re a pain in my ass,” he mutters as he rises from his chair.
“You still love me, though,” I say as I rise from mine.
When he makes it to me, he slings his arm around my shoulders, I slide mine around his waist, and he guides me to the door, retorting, “Need to get my head examined, but yeah, I do.”
And yeah.
I love coming home to Denver.
It rocks.
Chapter Six
Something Special
KA
The next day, early afternoon …
I’m a little surprised I’ve been called to Axl’s house.
The plan was late afternoon at Auggie’s, pork rind nachos, Fat Tire beer, and swapping recipes and tales on his back patio.
So Axl texting me and asking me to his place before that happens is a surprise.
His house has no real yard, it’s set just a bit off the sidewalk, and it’s literally around the corner and down one single block from where I used to live in Denver’s Baker Historical District.
It is, in fact, the house where I drank wine, ate food, shot the shit with my friends who lived there and babysat those friends’ daughter.
A baby I sat with in my lap in the hall that was in the back of that house, running between bedrooms, and we made funny faces at each other in the closet door mirrors.
A baby that is now a grown woman who I attended her weddin
g who has her own baby.
Yeah.
Ugh.
Even if the exterior and location is my friends Dixie and Chris’s old house, the interior is all Axl’s.
It’s da bomb.
After he invites me in, I look at the piece of art sitting on the cabinet in front of his window.
And the other piece in the corner.
I don’t mention either as Axl invites me to take a seat on one of his couches, tells me we’ll walk together to Auggie’s as he lives just down the road, and then he excuses himself and heads to the kitchen.
When he returns, he has a couple of sheets of notepaper with him.
He sits next to me on the couch and says, “I wanted to give these to you to include in my section, but I didn’t want to do it in front of the guys.”
I think this is weird because we were talking about recipes.
I mean, why couldn’t he share a couple of recipes in front of the guys?
I look down at the paper in my hand, and first think how classy it is he has monogrammed notepaper.
Then I flip from one to the other, and instantly, I know why he’s not sharing these in front of the others.
I look back into his ice-blue eyes and whisper, “Axl.”
“You didn’t think I’d take care of you?” he asks.
Tears fill my eyes and then I’m in his arms.
“You knew I’d take care of you,” he says in my ear.
“Yeah,” I mumble against his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he replies. “Something special.”
He is so right.
Something special.
More Recipes from the Kitchen of Axl Pantera
Axl’s Sandwich and Side
Fried Pork Sandwich
(Kristen Ashley Favorite)
2 cups buttermilk
1 teaspoon salt
Dream Bites Cookbook: Cooking with the Commandos Page 7