Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set
Page 18
Here’s a site with a picture or two of the bowl in a bowl water bath:
www.instructables.com/id/Melting-chocolate-without-microwave-or-double-boil
A microwave can work to melt chocolate. Use short spurts so the chocolate doesn’t burn. Start with a minute, stir, then repeat, 15 or 20 seconds at a time.
One last tip from a chocoholic! Use the bittersweet chocolate. Good dark chocolate will have cocoa solids (the actual chocolate) and cocoa butter (the creaminess of the chocolate) as top ingredients. To get that melt-in-your-mouth texture and dark, chocolaty flavor, choose chocolate that’s mostly cocoa solids and little else. Plus, if you eat chocolate with a high cocoa content (70-85%) it’s heart healthy!
If the surface is scarred, cloudy, or gray, this may be a sign that the chocolate is old or has been subject to extremes in temperature or handling. Pass.
Gluten Free chocoholics—this dish is for you, too! Enjoy!
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Quick Easy Gazpacho
INGREDIENTS
6 ripe tomatoes, cut into chunks
1/2 large cucumber—peeled, halved, seeded and cut into chunks
1 green bell pepper, cut into chunks
2 garlic cloves, smashed
1 cup water
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
Salt to taste
Hot sauce, for serving
PREPARATION
In a blender or food processor, combine the tomatoes, cucumber, bell pepper, garlic, water, oil and vinegar and process until coarsely pureed. Season with salt and refrigerate until chilled. Garnish with a dollop of sour cream or a tablespoon full of diced cucumber. Serve with your favorite hot sauce and something crunchy like breadsticks. Serves 4
Georgie’s Tips:
Gazpacho can be served more or less “chunky.” So try pureeing it more if you want it soupy or less if you prefer it even chunkier, closer to salsa. Gazpacho is a dish that you can make in a flash a day ahead. There are so many variations on this healthy, delicious treat, why not swap out the ripe, red tomatoes for yellow tomatoes or heirloom tomatoes? Or use another of your favorite veggies like red peppers or celery in addition to or instead of the ones in this recipe. Try topping with a sprinkle of a favorite fresh herb like cilantro, parsley, basil or mint.
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Partridge in Chocolate Sauce
INGREDIENTS
2 oven-ready partridges
4 thin slices of bacon
2 cloves
Half a bunch of parsley
2 squares or 50 grams of semi-sweet chocolate
A pinch of sugar
Salt and Pepper
2 tablespoons of pork lard
6 shallots, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 carrots, diced
1 c white wine
2 tablespoons of sherry vinegar
1 c game or chicken stock
1 bay leaf
PREPARATION
Wash the partridges thoroughly. Dry and rub with salt and pepper, inside and out. Wrap the slices of bacon around the partridge breasts. Tie the birds securely in position using kitchen string.
Heat the lard in a braising pan and brown the partridges on all sides. Add the shallots, garlic and carrots. Cook in the fat until they begin to brown. Add the white wine, vinegar and game stock. Season with the bay leaves, cloves and parsley. Cover the pan with a lid and braise the partridge for around 20 minutes. Remove from the pan and keep warm. Strain the sauce through a sieve and bring back to the boil. Crumble the chocolate and melt in the sauce. Leave to thicken slightly and season with salt, pepper and sugar. Remove the slices of bacon from the partridges and put them back in the sauce. Leave to stand for 5 minutes. Serve in the sauce. Serve with crusty bread or crisp toast. 2 servings
Georgie’s Tips:
I’ll bet you’re thinking, ‘any excuse to use more chocolate,’ right? I must confess that’s part of it. But it’s also interesting to try something different once in a while. Partridge qualifies for me. It has a flavor that’s distinctive, more like dark meat on chicken, or turkey, but not gamey.
You’ll have to go to a specialty store to find partridge. If you can’t do that, you can substitute Cornish Game Hen—you’re back to a flavor like chicken but the sauce still makes this interesting. Cut back on the lard because game hen has more fat than a partridge.
Same rules about using good chocolate, by the way, although this recipe calls for chocolate with a bit of sugar in it.
Roasted potatoes and earthy root vegetables like carrots, parsnips, beets, or butternut squash make excellent side dishes.
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Before you go…
Hope you have fun trying out these recipes. Some are probably already familiar to you, like lasagna or gazpacho. I hope you’re intrigued to find a few new ones here, too, and will take up the challenge of a foodie adventure. Bon appetit!
All Hallows’ Eve Heist: Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #3
Anna Celeste Burke
DEDICATION
To cozy mystery readers who enjoy a little romance with their mystery and who understand why, on occasion, it makes good sense to
“Eat Dessert First!”
1 Knife Skills
“Knife skills.” I shouted those words as I turned around from the stove. When I did, I bumped into Jack. The now familiar snap, crackle, pop sensations brought on by close encounters with the handsome homicide detective zipped through me.
“No need to holler. I’m standing right here.” He grinned a sideways smile as he looked down at me. In the nine months since I’d met him, those smiles had become a welcome part of my life. Jack Wheeler reminded me of an older James Garner, the actor who starred in The Rockford Files. Maybe it was the detective’s role that linked the two men so readily in my mind. Jack's easy smile had something to do with it too, as well as the dark hair and eyes.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on a woman with knife skills. Lucky for you the knife is on the cutting board.”
“That is a mean-looking one. A French knife, right?”
“Brilliant deduction, Detective.”
“To borrow a phrase from that better-known detective, Sherlock Holmes, ‘it is simplicity itself, my good woman.’ I’ve listened to you speak many times of former colleagues in the kitchen brandishing an enormous French knife to make a point. Risky business, I might add.”
“So is calling me your good woman. I can just hear those words coming from Holmes, in a snide, disdainful way, though. He was no fan of women.”
“Well, I am. A fan of one woman in particular.” Jack pulled me toward him and brushed my forehead with a kiss. As he did that, Miles wrapped himself around my legs. An affectionate cat, Miles couldn’t stand being left out if there was hugging going on. I heard him purring as he squeezed between us. Best buddies at this point, Jack bent down and scooped up the handsome Siamese. That got a gurgle of approval from Miles.
“I thought you were out on the patio admiring the view.” A wave of amazement hit me as I took in the cozy tableau in my kitchen. Jack's presence in my life as I rushed toward sixty struck me as a miracle. Especially considering the awful circumstances in which we had met—during a murder investigation at Marvelous Marley World where I work for a very famous cartoon cat, Catmmando Tom, at the center of a multibillion-dollar entertainment empire.
A second chance at love had somehow come about in the wake of a murder at Catmmando Mountain. The site of The Conquest, an action-packed adventure experience, is an APEX attraction in Marley World parlance. Catmmando Mountain is the centerpiece of Arcadia Theme Park, where Catmmando Tom’s thrilling adventures come to life. Arcadia Park was no contender for the “happiest place on earth” on Valentine’s Day. A body at the foot of Catmmando Mountain created near panic for those of us who work at the Cat Factory. We feel as honor-bound as our founder, Max Marley, to make the place a shining example of family fun and worry-free entertai
nment.
"I was enjoying the view until I smelled something wonderful. What's on the menu, Chef?" He and Miles both stared at me expectantly, and I laughed.
That Jack and I are still together nine months after the murder is another miracle. The loss of my first love had kept me boxed up inside for far too long. I was certain we're only lucky enough once to find someone we can call a soulmate. Then Jack walked into my life and poof. My notion that love’s lightning only strikes a single time has vanished. Miracles are lovely things, but also scary. What if Jack and I are too set in our ways to make a second chance at love work?
I looked away to hide my doubts. “Tonight, we're having an old favorite from my cooking school days. In fact, this is the dish I prepared as part of my graduation dinner. Coquilles St. Jacques. Scallops poached in white wine and created in the old way: gratinéed and finished under the broiler. There are lighter versions out there, but this is still my favorite. We're going to eat it as a main dish rather than an appetizer, so we can afford to enjoy the richer version. For your dining pleasure, Monsieur, tonight Chez Georgie’s serves the Coquilles St. Jacques with a spicy pumpkin soup, fresh salad of locally grown baby greens, and warm crusty French bread. And, to accompany your dinner, a coquettish little Viognier.” I put on a lousy French accent to match my pretentious chef routine.
"Meow." Jack replied, adding an appreciative murmur that was almost a perfect imitation of the sound Miles had uttered moments before. Miles looked up at him and snuggled a bit closer. "Do we get dessert, too?"
"Oui, oui, but of course, Monsieur. A decadent, rich chocolate mousse."
Jack used one hand to pull me closer and took a deep breath, sniffing my hair.
"How did we get so lucky, Miles? She's lovely, smells like vanilla and spice, adores us, and whips up chocolate treats."
Miles boomed his approval, most likely because Jack had uttered one of the magic words in Miles pampered-pet vocabulary—treats. My cat loves his treats. With those booming trumpet-like blasts, he rechristens himself daily, demonstrating his right to be named after one of my favorite jazz musicians, Miles Davis.
Jack loves his treats, too. The man has his priorities straight; I'll give him that. I’d already learned he's an "eat dessert first" kind of guy. Easier for him to do, since he's far more dedicated to working out than I am. He hadn’t said it exactly, but I figure that “eat dessert” rule and his workouts stem from the uncertainties that go with his job as a cop.
A few years older than me, he tries to stay in shape since on occasion he’s still forced to dodge a wildly thrown punch or make a grab for a bad guy. Nothing as dramatic as the foot chases seen on TV. Jack has assured me that the suspects he pursues are typically in way worse shape than he is. According to him, the creeps don’t want to take a chance getting shot at. And if they do make a run for it, they have less than a 100-yard dash in them. Still, the whole cop thing is one of the scarier aspects of taking a second chance at love. As I mulled this over, Jack interrupted my reverie, returning to the subject of knife skills.
“I’ve heard of a French knife and a paring knife. That’s about the extent of my ability to name the tools of your trade. Oh yeah, thanks to that murderous colleague of yours at Marvelous Marley World, I did learn that chefs use a boning knife. Murder is not its intended purpose, as I understand it. Why were you shouting about knife skills?”
“You asked me what I found valuable about my chef’s training since I no longer work in the kitchen. I’ve thought about it, and knife skills are at the top of the list.”
“You mean which knives to use for a particular task?”
“That’s part of it, yes. Not that complicated—you’ve named the three every chef buys. It’s also a good idea to have a knife with a serrated edge. ‘Buy the best knives you can afford’ was one of the first edicts I learned. I did and have used the same set for more than 25 years, Jack. How to keep them sharp and care for them matters, too. For that, you need a honing steel—see?” I pulled the honing steel from the shelf below the magnetic strip that held my knives.
“More important is safety. Rule number 1 is that a sharp knife is safer than a dull one. So, store it in a way that allows it to keep its edge. My first set came with a knife bag—a roll up pouch. I prefer a magnetic strip now.” I picked up the French knife and began sharpening the blade on the steel. Whisk, whisk. I love the sound the blade makes as it slides at an angle over the steel.
“Sit down and I’ll show you a couple of tips if you’d like. Just let me slip the scallops into the oven under the broiler. Two or three minutes and we'll be ready to eat.” Jack walked around the corner of the kitchen island and slid onto one of the barstools. He let Miles loose. My curious Siamese cat sensed something was up. Not willing to stray too far with that “treats” word still hanging in the air, he took a seat on the barstool next to Jack. Miles’ whiskers were at attention, spread out in an array around his wedge-shaped face. He and Jack peered at me curiously as I went through my little demo.
“Work with a flat bottom whenever you can.” I cut a cucumber in half and turned both halves flat side down. “Then form your hand into a claw. No fingers sticking out makes it less likely that you'll nip one of them. That’s a necessary precaution whatever cut you're using, like slicing." Jack's eyes grew wide as I sliced my way through half of that cucumber. I’m not as fast as I used to be when using a knife day in and day out, but I finished in a flash.
"We also have dicing, mincing, or doing something a little fancier like a chiffonade or julienne. Well, the terms are fancy. The cuts, not so much." I demonstrated each cut with items I then added to the salad bowls sitting on the granite counter top in front of me. I gave the vinaigrette I’d made earlier a whisk and poured some over each salad.
“Voila. Time to eat.” As I turned to pull our scallops from the oven, I caught Miles eying Jack. His gaze was fixed on the detective, concentrating as he delivered his best cat version of the Vulcan mind probe. Miles had a single aim in mind, getting the human to carry out his prime directive. FEED THE CAT. It worked. Jack hopped off the bar stool and hollered the magic word.
“Treats.”
Miles dove off his seat and stood alert, his tail high as a kite as Jack dished up a tablespoon of tuna. It always amazes me how much enjoyment Miles derives from such a small thing. A lesson to his human companions. One of many our furry feline friends teach us—like gratitude for a job well done. Miles stopped, looked up, and blinked at us with what’s darn close to a wink, accompanied by a throaty hurrah.
In minutes, we were all settled into the dining room. Jack and I devoured our dinners as Miles lounged near the wall of windows that gave him a view of the veranda. Despite my chef’s training, cooking dinner for others makes me anxious. It had been years since I prepared food in a kitchen at Marvelous Marley World, where I started straight out of culinary school as a chef. To be honest, these days I hardly cook at all. Fresh fruit with yogurt is dinner most nights. Occasionally, I hold a dinner party. That always gives me the jitters, too. I sighed as I finished my food.
“The house has outdone itself, tonight. May I tip the chef with a kiss?” Jack asked.
I leaned in to collect my gratuity and felt a wave of relief. Not to mention the tantalizing dance of sensations that goes along with one of those kisses.
“Ready for dessert?”
“Am I ever. Bring on the mousse.”
“Chocolate mousse. You know I have to get my fix.” I admit it. I’m a chocoholic. Jack stood up to help me remove the dirty dishes. As we headed to the kitchen, Miles jumped to his feet and unleashed an earsplitting yowl.
“What on earth, Miles? You don’t get dessert; why are you yelling at me?” I looked at Jack. “Have you been slipping him extra treats after dinner?”
“Moi? Non. Not after dinner. What is it, Miles?”
I tried to hide my smile realizing that Jack had advanced to the next level of cat ownership. By that, I mean being owned by a cat, the point
at which you talk to the cat like it's a person. If Miles intended to respond, he had no chance to do so because my phone pinged to indicate someone sent me a message.
Next, Jack’s phone began to ring. We both dashed into the kitchen and grabbed our phones.
I froze as I read the message on my phone.
ACTIVE SHOOTER. MARVELOUS MARLEY WORLD HEADQUARTERS. OFFICE COMPLEX ON LOCKDOWN. SHELTER IN PLACE.
2 Eat Dessert First
“There’s been a shooting. At least one man is down, according to the call that came into the police,” Jack said. I felt a sudden wave of nausea.
“At Marvelous Marley World?” I wracked my brain, trying to imagine who would be sheltering in place on a Saturday night at Marvelous Marley World Headquarters. The building was empty on weekends. Occasionally, an associate or a group of associates with a big deadline went in to work on a weekend. All the planning was over now for this weekend's festivities and that celebration was in full swing. The kickoff last night had gone well, so I couldn’t think of a single person with a reason to be in that building tonight.
“Yes. It sounds like a member of security interrupted a burglary while it was in progress. The thieves shot and killed a guard. His partner came running and returned fire. He claims he hit one of them, but the intruders got away. The guard was more concerned about saving his colleague than giving pursuit, so I presume that’s how they got out of there.” Jack was on the move. He scrambled to put on the jacket he had taken off when we sat down to dinner.
“Since someone called homicide, I guess the injured person didn’t make it.”