by Leslie Karst
“But you did find the real killer, Sal.” Eric patted me on the back. “So turns out you’re not such a doofus, after all. Though it did almost get you offed before your big night under the stage lights.”
“Indeed,” I said. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, Eric, but thank God for your proclivity for tardiness. And you, too,” I added, turning to Roxanne and Brian. “If you guys hadn’t been late to the dress rehearsal, who knows what would have happened.”
“You would have just slugged her again,” Brian said. “Don’t think I didn’t see that. And I gotta say, I kinda think that rocks in a boss.”
“Thanks. I guess.” I raised my glass to my new cook and then turned back to Eric. “So do you think Jill started that rumor about the new music festival, too?”
He shrugged. “I imagine so. Or maybe she and Kyle hatched it together. It was one thing they definitely had in common, their shared anger at our illustrious choral director.”
Brian and Roxanne took off a few minutes later, after which Eric stood up to leave. “Promise me you won’t get into any more trouble in the next few hours, okay, toots?” he said, giving me a warm hug good-bye.
“I’ll do my best,” I answered, holding onto him just a little bit longer. “And thanks for . . . everything.”
I watched Eric as he stopped to say something to Gloria, causing the hostess to let out a short laugh, and then headed out the door. Turning back to Marta, I was about to tell her I needed to do the same and go home to bed when Brandon brought another round of drinks for the two of us.
“Wait. We didn’t order these,” I said.
“Brian did as he left,” the waiter said. “He said to take it out of his paycheck.”
“I’m not so sure I really need another.” But I stayed put. It wouldn’t do to waste a perfectly good drink, now would it? “Cincin,” I said, raising my bourbon-rocks.
“Salute,” Marta responded, clinking my glass. “So what will happen to me now?” she asked after sipping her Sangiovese. “You know, about that Süssmayr music I . . . took.”
I stared at the shadow my highball was throwing on the tablecloth, the light through the cut glass casting a jagged design on the white fabric. Obviously, nothing would happen unless I said something to someone, and she knew this. “I don’t know,” I said. “What do you think should happen?”
“I am thinking I should tell the truth. How do you say? Come clear.”
“Come clean, right.” I poked at the ice in my drink and then licked my finger. “You realize what would happen if you did that, right?”
“Would I go to prison?”
I laughed. “I don’t think it’s that serious a crime. But you would have to pay back the money you got when you sold the music. As would Kyle. Or his estate, rather. Which, come to think of it . . .” And then I laughed again, louder this time.
“What is it?” Marta asked.
“Sorry. It’s not that I think it’s funny, you having to pay back that woman in Germany. But it sure would be satisfying to see Lydia get her just deserts.” I told Marta about Kyle’s ex and how she’d tricked him into executing an invalid will. “But I gather a large part of his estate is derived from the money he got from that music, so in the end, his having an invalid will won’t mean all that much, after all. She’ll have to sell the house to pay back the ill-got gains.”
“Well, that’s good, I guess.” Marta watched the cooks through the window as they scrubbed down the hot line. “I suppose I should do it,” she finally said with a sigh. “Come clean. I will write the woman tomorrow and ask her how she would like to handle the situation.” Frowning, she picked up her glass and drank down the rest of her wine, then pushed back her chair. “I should go. It has been a very long day.”
I stood too. “So, will I see you again?” I asked. And then, embarrassed by how this might sound, quickly added, “I mean, now that the concert is over . . .”
“Well,” Marta said, a devilish smile replacing her frown, “I do think you owe me at least one more chance to race you to the top of that hill up at the university.”
“Certo,” I said. “How about a rematch tomorrow morning?”
Grilled Cheese Sandwich With Spinach and Red Onions
(1 sandwich)
The trick to achieving the crispy, buttery, golden-brown bread that is the hallmark of a great grilled cheese sandwich is using an even and moderate heat. I always cook mine in a cast-iron skillet, and if I’m making two (or more) sandwiches at the same time, I rotate them 180° midway through frying each side, since different parts of the pan can be hotter than others. Don’t be afraid to check the color of the bread frequently as it cooks by lifting up the corner with a spatula. If it’s browning too quickly, turn down the heat. The one thing you don’t want is a burnt sandwich!
I like to use a three-seed sourdough for my grilled cheese sandwiches, but any robust, thickly sliced bread works fine. And if you like your food spicy, you might consider using Sriracha mayonnaise—just combine the two ingredients before spreading on the sandwich.
Ingredients
2 oz. butter, softened
½ small red onion, sliced
2 slices sourdough or other thickly sliced sandwich bread
1 slice Gruyère (or other Swiss-style) cheese, ¼ inch thick and large enough to cover the bread
¼ cup (a handful) baby spinach, washed and dried
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
½ teaspoon Sriracha, Tabasco, or other hot sauce (optional)
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Directions
Melt half the butter (1 oz.) in a heavy skillet and then sauté the onions in the butter over medium heat, stirring occasionally so they don’t burn, until soft and just starting to brown.
While the onions are cooking, spread both slices of bread with the remaining butter.
Remove the sautéed onions to a small bowl. Place one slice of bread, butter side down, in the same skillet, then lay the cheese on the bread and cover it with the other slice, butter side up. Turn the heat under the skillet down to medium-low, and cook the sandwich until golden brown. Flip it over and continue to cook until the cheese is melted and the other side is nicely browned.
Remove to a plate, and pull the sandwich apart (being careful not to burn your hands on the hot cheese). Spread the mayonnaise over the side of bread with the least cheese stuck to it, top with the sautéed onions, and then add the spinach. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and dribble with hot sauce (if using).
Close sandwich back up, slice in half, and enjoy!
Sally’s “Real” Caesar Salad
(serves 4)
The word “real” appears in quotes because this is not, in fact, a truly authentic Caesar salad. As originally concocted back in Tijuana in the 1920s, the salad was prepared at a table in front of the patron in a grand show of fuss: rubbing raw garlic around the inside of a wooden bowl, drizzling the liquid ingredients into the bowl, then adding the lettuce, coddled eggs, grated cheese, and croutons and tossing it all together. (Anchovies didn’t become a part of the recipe until sometime later.)
My recipe, in contrast, calls for preparing the dressing in advance, which makes it far easier as a dinner party dish. But I still call the salad “real” because—unlike most Caesars you find in restaurants—it uses coddled eggs, which to my mind are what makes the salad worthy of its name.
The recipe may look complex, but the croutons, dressing, and lettuce can all be prepared in advance. (Wash and tear up the lettuce, wrap it in a paper towel, and place it in a plastic bag in the fridge until time to dress the salad.)
Ingredients
7 tablespoons (a little under ½ cup) extra-virgin olive oil
2 cups French bread, cut into ½ʺ cubes
1 medium-size clove garlic
1 teaspoon anchovy paste
1 teaspoon sugar
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon Dijon-style mustard
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
2 eggs in their shells, at room temperature
2 hearts of romaine lettuce, torn into bite-sized pieces
½ cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese
Directions
MAKE THE CROUTONS
Toss the bread cubes with 3 tablespoons of the olive oil, sprinkle with salt and black pepper, and bake on a baking sheet in a preheated 375°F oven until golden brown (10–15 minutes), tossing occasionally to prevent burning. The croutons can be made several days in advance; just put them in an airtight plastic bag once cooled, and freeze until an hour before service.
MAKE THE DRESSING
Chop the garlic until fine (or put it through a press), then add the anchovy paste and mash together until it forms a paste. Scrape the paste into a small mixing bowl, then add the sugar, black pepper, mustard, lemon juice, and Worcestershire sauce, and combine till smooth. Slowly drizzle in the rest of the olive oil (4 tablespoons), mixing all the while with a wire whisk until emulsified. You can let this sit on the countertop until time to dress the salad, but give it a good whisk before using. (It can also be kept in the fridge if made the day before, but be sure to let it come back up to room temperature before using.)
CODDLE THE EGGS
A few minutes before you want to serve the salad, get a small saucepan of water (enough to cover the eggs) simmering on the stove. Using a large spoon, place the eggs into the simmering water (being careful not to crack their shells) and let them cook for 1 to 1½ minutes. Pour the hot water out of the pan and, leaving the eggs in, refill with cold water to stop the cooking process.
COMPOSE THE SALAD
Place the lettuce in a salad bowl, and toss with the dressing. Then, holding the eggs one at a time in the palm of your hand, crack them in two with a butter knife and use a teaspoon to spoon the egg into the salad. (Pour the yolk over the lettuce, and then break the white of the egg into small pieces with the spoon as you scoop it out of the shell.) Toss again to mix in the egg evenly.
If you are serving individual salads, plate up the dressed egg/lettuce mixture, and then distribute the cheese and croutons evenly between the plates. Otherwise, add the cheese and croutons to the large bowl and give the salad one final toss before serving. Finish with freshly ground black pepper.
Spaghetti Alla Carbonara
(serves 4–6)
The origin of this dish’s name is hotly disputed, but most folks agree that it likely has something to do with the Italian word carbone (charcoal). Some claim the dish was invented by coal miners; others argue it was originally cooked over a charcoal flame; and still others assert that the name derives from a kind of charcoal-cooked ham that was once used for the pasta.
Whatever its history, this rich, creamy dish from Rome makes for a delicious and quick-to-prepare meal. Serve it with a green salad or fagiolini al burro (baby green beans sautéed in butter) and a loaf of warm, crusty bread.
(Don’t be alarmed by the use of raw egg; the hot pasta heats it enough to cook, and the result is a silky, custardy sauce.)
Ingredients
1 pound dried spaghetti
1 tablespoon salt
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
½ pound pancetta or bacon, cut crossways into ½ʺ strips
4 eggs
½ cup grated Parmesan or pecorino cheese
1 tablespoon chopped Italian (flat-leaf) parsley
freshly ground black pepper
Directions
Bring a large (at least 4-quart) pot of water to a boil. Add the spaghetti and the salt, and cook over high heat until al dente (still slightly firm in the center, 8–10 minutes), stirring occasionally to prevent sticking.
While the pasta is cooking, heat the butter and oil in a heavy skillet. Add the bacon and fry over medium heat, stirring occasionally until it starts to brown. (This can be done in advance, but reheat before service if the oil and butter have solidified.)
In a serving bowl large enough to hold the pasta, beat the eggs with the grated cheese.
Drain the cooked pasta, and immediately dump it (without rinsing) into the serving bowl. Toss until the pasta is coated with the egg-and-cheese mixture. Add the pancetta or bacon (along with all the butter and oil), and toss again. Serve garnished with the parsley and freshly ground black pepper.
Grilled Salmon With Papaya and Avocado Pico de Gallo (Gauguin)
(serves 4)
Pico de gallo means “rooster’s beak” in Spanish and refers to the fact that this is a spicy condiment—in other words, a salsa picante. What differentiates a pico de gallo from other Mexican salsas is that rather than being cooked, it’s made from fresh, chopped ingredients.
The traditional pico de gallo is made with tomatoes, onions, chiles, and cilantro, but in many parts of Mexico, the fruit varieties such as this one are also popular. I encourage you to experiment with combinations of fruit and vegetables other than the ones in this recipe, such as pineapple, jicama, cucumber, watermelon, orange, cantaloupe—whatever strikes your fancy.
At Gauguin, we use papaya for this pico de gallo, but a ripe mango can be substituted if no fresh papayas are available. The salsa can be prepared in advance and kept in the fridge, but if you make it more than an hour before the meal, wait to cut and add the avocado until shortly before service, lest it turn brown.
Serve this entrée with either Spanish rice or traditional Mexican white rice and refried beans—along with warm tortillas to mop up your plates, of course!
Ingredients
FOR PICO DE GALLO
1 cup papaya or mango, cut into ½ʺ cubes
1 cup avocado, cut into ½ʺ cubes
½ medium red onion, diced (about ¾ cup)
1 jalapeño pepper (stemmed and seeded), finely chopped
2 tablespoons cilantro, chopped (plus extra for garnish)
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (plus 1 extra lime, cut into wedges, for garnish)
½ teaspoon salt
FOR SALMON
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
4 salmon steaks
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Directions
Place all the pico de gallo ingredients in a bowl, and stir gently (so the avocado and papaya don’t get mashed) to mix. Refrigerate covered until service (see note above about avocado).
Mix the garlic with the olive oil in a small bowl, and brush it onto the salmon steaks, then sprinkle them with salt and freshly ground black pepper.
Preheat a grill for medium heat, and lightly oil the grill grate. Grill salmon for 4 minutes and then carefully flip with a spatula. Continue cooking until browned on the outside but still moist and slightly pink in the middle (3–6 minutes, depending on the thickness of the steaks and heat of the grill).
Serve each salmon steak with a large scoop or two of pico de gallo (an ice cream scoop makes for lovely presentation), half on and half off the fish. Garnish with extra cilantro and lime wedges.
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt thanks go out to Cheryl Anderson, Nancy Lundblad, and Robin McDuff for their insightful comments and suggestions as readers. Thanks also to Shirley Tessler for her assistance editing the recipes. I am also grateful to Alicia Rasley for her terrific Intensive Pacing class and to everyone involved in Sisters in Crime and the Guppies, the most generous community of writers I could possibly imagine.
And huge thanks, as always, to Erin Niumata at Folio Literary Management and to Matt Martz, Nike Power, Sarah Poppe, and all the other wonderful folks at Crooked Lane Books.
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