The Oakdale Dinner Club

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The Oakdale Dinner Club Page 23

by Kim Moritsugu


  The bells on the door rang and a loud voice called out, “Danielle, mon petit chou.” The voice came from a large woman wearing a hat. “What a darling little shop. I wouldn’t have expected such charm in this backwater.”

  “Holy crap,” Sam said. “It’s Adele Beauchamp.” And he went over to suck up.

  Melina was in the kitchen when she heard someone come in the back door. “Josh? Is that you?”

  Honey ran in from the mudroom, with Josh behind her. “Who else would it be?”

  “You’re right. Who else? I’m making hot chocolate for the kids. Want some?”

  “Sure, thanks. But were you thinking I might be my dad?”

  “I guess I was. Sometimes I forget he’s moved out. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He’s living it up in the city. He doesn’t miss Oakdale at all.”

  Melina poured hot milk into a mug. “And does that bother you?”

  “It’s better this way — Mom and Dad living their own lives instead of pretending they got along, when it was so obvious they didn’t.”

  Melina stirred the milk. Who was this new clear-eyed, realistic Josh? “So you’re not going to Europe this summer to avoid your mom dating?”

  “It’s more like I’m going there so I can meet people and party without her watching over me. This could be my big summer, I’m hoping.”

  “Your coming of age.”

  “And I won’t be that far from where you’ll be.”

  “Really?”

  “Maybe I’ll come visit you guys one weekend, see what’s doing.”

  “How old are you now?”

  “Seventeen.”

  Seventeen, mature, shoulders, jaw, tall. “Yeah, we should get together. After babysitting four kids all day, I’m going to need a break. Give me your email address and I’ll send you our contact info.”

  The party was in full swing when Alice walked into The Oakdale Dinner Club, which was filled with wall-to-wall Oakdalians, and some city folk who’d driven up specially.

  Alice fought her way to the drinks table set up in the middle of the store, and congratulated a happy-looking Sam on the way. She stopped to say hello to Sarah and Danielle, and to be introduced to Danielle’s husband, Benny, who was sampling a morsel of sauced chicken from a paper cone. Benny said to Danielle, “You made this. It’s your chicken korma. I’d know it anywhere.”

  “I’m telling you, I didn’t cook anything here.”

  Benny took another bite, shook his head. “I don’t believe you. This is exactly how you make it.”

  Danielle grinned. “Alice, have you met my mother? She’s in from the city. Alice Maeda, Adele Beauchamp.”

  Alice shook Adele’s hand and said, “So are you going to write about this place in the Times? Start some word of mouth?”

  Adele dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I couldn’t do that, dear. It would be unethical, considering Danielle’s involvement in the enterprise.”

  “Of course not,” Danielle said.

  “I’m sorry,” Alice said. “I didn’t mean to suggest —”

  Adele nudged Alice. “I did, however, bring one of my colleagues from the Dining section with me. And I can’t see why one of them shouldn’t write about it.”

  Alice gave her a thumbs up. “Good thinking.”

  “I’m sure they’ll rave. The food is delicious, and well presented, and that samosa man is delightful, he’d make good copy. Did you know he’s writing a culinary mystery? You never told me that, Danielle.”

  Mary Ann’s voice cut into Alice’s mind. Tear yourself away from that weirdo in the hat and check this out. I think I’ve found my summer fling. Am I dreaming, or has Carl the construction foreman been working out?

  Alice laughed at the sight of the big pink neon arrow Mary Ann had painted in her thought picture, the one that was pointing to Carl, and was inscribed with the words, “Hot stuff.” He’s okay, she thought back, if you like them with a head of hair.

  Alice excused herself from Danielle’s gang and set off toward Tom, whose head she could see towering above the fray over to one side. She squeezed past Lisa and Amy, who each held a glass of wine in one hand and one of Sarah’s cream puffs in the other, and emerged victorious at Tom’s side. Though she had to grab on to Kate’s arm to keep from tripping over a table leg on her final approach.

  She apologized for the arm gripping, the three greeted each other, and Tom said, “How go the preparations for Tuscany?”

  “Everything’s organized. We leave in two weeks.”

  Kate said, “We?”

  “Me, Lavinia, and Melina — our babysitter.” And Jake would be leading bike tours for most of the summer in the south of France, just around the corner.

  Drew came along and introduced them to his new friend Jane. “We met at an IT seminar,” Drew said. And Kate, Tom, and Alice all nodded and said, “Isn’t that nice.”

  Drew and Jane moved on and Tom snagged three stuffed endives from a passing waiter’s tray and handed them around. Kate said, “This joint sure is jumping.”

  Alice tasted a hit of brie and pancetta. “Sam seems like a real go-getter. And his last business was a big success, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” Tom said, “but he didn’t find his true calling until he came to Oakdale. Similar to my experience with discovering my teaching vocation.”

  Kate linked her arm in Tom’s. “Help me set him straight, Alice,” she said. “Tom has decided that Oakdale is imbued with some kind of supernatural quality. And I keep saying that Oakdale’s just a town. A pretty town, but just a town.”

  “What do you think, Alice?” Tom said. “Is Oakdale magical?”

  Alice looked around the room, at Mary Ann baring her throat for Carl over by the pastry case, at Hallie speaking earnestly with three guys in suits who might be investors, at Sam wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and sharing a laugh with Sarah, at Danielle facing Benny with one hand on her chest and the other raised in oath-swearing position, at Drew and Jane, their heads bent together over one of the store’s computer terminals.

  “Is Oakdale magical?” Alice said. “Oh, definitely.”

  27

  Josh and Griffin were upstairs and Melina was helping Kayla and Lavinia make beaded ID bracelets at the kitchen table when she got a text from her friend Jen. Melina picked up her phone, got drawn into a chat, and didn’t look up until she heard Lavinia giggle madly next to her.

  “Make Honey dance!” Lavinia cried. “Higher! Faster! Make her chase her tail!” Now both girls laughed. While the dog slept on the floor under the table.

  Her attention still on her phone, Melina said, “What are you guys doing?”

  Lavinia said, “Kayla showed me a movie of Honey dancing. It’s so funny!” And giggled some more.

  Movie? What movie? Jen texted she had to go, and Melina turned her phone screen-down on the table. “Sorry, guys. What’s going on?”

  Kayla gazed at Melina with her big, blue, twelve-going-on-thirteen-year-old eyes. “Nothing.”

  “What movie are you talking about? Did you make a video of Honey?”

  “No.”

  “So what, then?” Next to Melina, Lavinia hummed and picked out all the orange beads from the pile.

  Kayla said, “We imagined that Honey was dancing.”

  “You were pretending, you mean?”

  “Sort of like pretending. And sort of like we’re talking to each other, but without talking. Do you know what I mean?”

  Author’s note

  I’d like to thank my first readers Louise Moritsugu and Ehoud Farine, and my literary agent Margaret Hart of the Humber Literary Agency, for their suggestions, encouragement, and support. And I am grateful to Diane Young, Shannon Whibbs, and Cheryl Hawley for their editorial guidance, and to everyone else at Dundurn who helped produce, sell, and promote the book.

  Recipes follow for three of the dishes discussed, served, and consumed in the course of the novel. For more recipes please visit my website, which c
an be found online at http://kimmoritsugu.com.

  Sarah MacAllister’s Stilton Shortbread

  1/2 cup butter, softened

  1 cup Stilton or other blue cheese, crumbled

  1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

  1/4 cup pecans, ground

  1 tbsp sugar

  1/2 tsp salt

  30–35 pecan halves, preferably toasted

  In a stand mixer, or using a handheld electric beater, cream butter with sugar and salt.

  Beat in flour on low speed until well incorporated and mixture looks like small peas.

  Mix crumbled blue cheese in bowl or mini food processor with ground pecans, then beat into flour mixture quickly, until evenly distributed.

  Using hands, remove dough to floured cutting board and form into a ball. Cut ball in half and form each half into a cylinder about 1 1/2 inches wide and 8–9 inches long. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill in fridge for an hour or more.

  At bake time, line a large baking sheet with parchment paper and preheat oven to 325˚F.

  Slice dough into 1/3–inch rounds and place on baking sheet. They will not spread, so they need not be placed too far apart, but they should not be touching.

  Press a pecan half into the top of each round.

  Bake for 15–20 minutes until lightly browned on the edges and bottoms.

  Let cool before serving.

  Makes 30–35 small cookies.

  Sam Orenstein’s Aloo Gobi

  2 cups cauliflower florets (about half a cauliflower), chopped into 2-inch chunks

  2 cups red-skinned potatoes (about 4 smallish ones), chopped into 2-inch chunks

  2–3 tbsp canola oil

  2 tsp cumin seeds

  2 tbsp minced fresh ginger

  1/2 tsp ground turmeric

  1/2 tsp ground coriander

  1/2 tsp ground cardamom

  1/2 tsp salt

  Preheat oven to 400˚F.

  Mix cauliflower florets and potato chunks with oil and spices in large bowl. Toss to coat evenly.

  Spray a baking sheet with cooking spray. Arrange cauliflower and potato mixture on baking sheet in one layer. Use a second baking sheet if necessary.

  Roast for 30 minutes at 400˚F, turning vegetables after 15 minutes.

  Serve garnished with chopped hard-boiled eggs and chopped parsley.

  Makes 4 side-dish servings.

  Tom Gagliardi’s Squash, Goat Cheese,

  & Toasted Pistachio Crostini

  1 pound butternut squash, cut in 1–2 inch cubes

  3–4 stalks fresh thyme

  2–3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

  1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

  1/4 cup maple syrup or honey

  1 cup goat cheese, crumbled

  1/2 cup pistachios, shelled and chopped, toasted 5–10 minutes on a baking sheet in a 325˚F oven, cooled

  6 slices (2 inches by 4 inches each, approximately) of focaccia or other rustic, rough-textured bread

  Toss squash cubes with 1–2 tbsp oil, thyme stalks, and cayenne pepper, and roast on baking sheet in 400˚F oven for 20–25 minutes, turning once halfway through, until lightly browned on edges.

  Turn squash into bowl and mash roughly, the texture should still be chunky.

  Strip thyme leaves from stalks, add to squash. Discard stalks.

  Combine squash with maple syrup or honey, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

  Toast bread slices in oven or toaster, brush with olive oil.

  To assemble crostini, spread a slice of toasted bread with squash mixture, top with a spoonful of goat cheese, and garnish with chopped, toasted pistachios.

  Makes 6 slices of crostini.

  Copyright © Kim Moritsugu, 2014

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

  All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Editor: Shannon Whibbs

  Copy-editor: Cheryl Hawley

  Design: Jennifer Scott

  Epub Design: Carmen Giraudy

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Moritsugu, Kim, author

  The Oakdale dinner club / Kim Moritsugu.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4597-0955-3 (pbk.).--ISBN 978-1-4597-0957-7 (pdf).--ISBN 978-1-4597-0956-0 (epub)

  I. Title.

  PS8576.O72O36 2014 C813’.54 C2013-906068-5 C2013-906069-3

  We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

  Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

  J. Kirk Howard, President

  The publisher is not responsible for websites or their content unless they are owned by the publisher.

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