“Hi, Dad. What’s up?” Sherry checked the clock on the phone. “I don’t have much time. I have to find some volunteers to help me unload the car.”
“Just wanted to say good luck on your first day and remind you to not be shy about taking notes,” Erno said. “And don’t be nervous. Make eye contact with your customers and remind them they should buy an extra jar for last-minute gift giving and . . .”
“Dad, wow! You’re way more anxious than I am. I’ll be fine. I’ll call you tonight and tell you how it went. Are you missing me at the Ruggery?”
“I’m doing okay with your trimmed-down schedule.”
“It’s only one less day a week. You should be fine. I better get moving.”
“I feel like I should leave you with one more pearl of wisdom. So here it is. Pickles are just cucumbers with a longer shelf life.”
Sherry cocked her head askew and puffed out her lips. “Dad, I’m a big girl now. You raised me right.” Sherry pictured the little girl pushing the monstrous stroller and felt a pang of empathy for the toddler’s struggle and the woman raising her. Her mom was doing the right thing, supporting her daughter’s independent spirit.
“Message received. By the way, can you send me any zucchini recipes you might have?” Erno asked.
Sherry thought she detected a hint of neediness in her father’s tone. Her mouth curled into a smile.
“I have a date tonight,” he added.
Sherry’s reply caught in her throat for a split second. “Of course, Dad. I’ll check when I get home. Love you, but got to go now. Bye-bye.”
Lost in a cloud of thought thicker than the vichyssoise she had prepared the night before, Sherry came close to not spotting the casually dressed man in a crumpled hat waving in her direction. Not sensing any immediate familiarity, Sherry checked behind her to make sure it was she being summoned. The number of people shopping was low this early in the morning, so she had no trouble confirming the man wanted her attention.
“Miss Frazzelle, um, Sherry, over here.” The man trotted toward her.
Dressed in khaki shorts, a collared white sports shirt, and tennis shoes, Ray Bease was more appropriately dressed to ball boy for the Wimbledon finals than to shop for farm-fresh produce. The ancient hat, though, divulged the fact he might be over the job’s age requirement.
“Detective Bease, fancy meeting you here.” Sherry smoothed her apron and replaced an errant lock of hair. It was nice to be labeled “Miss.” “Are you working today? I don’t see Detective Diamond with you.”
“Thursday’s my day off, doctor’s orders.” Ray removed his hat, primped it and put it back on. “After the OrgaNicks investigation concluded, I had a mild medical scare and, long story short, I need more downtime or my life will be a lot shorter than it should be. Diamond’s been transferred to data intelligence, so we’re not together anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your scare, but I’m glad you’re listening to the doctor.” Sherry began edging away. “I have to get over to the pickle stand. Today’s my first day volunteering there.”
“Pickles. I see. Sounds like a great position for someone with all your gardening knowledge.” Ray kicked a stone with his rubber-soled boat shoes.
“The current pickle maven has declared this is her last year selling, so I’m testing the waters as a possible replacement. The OrgaNicks Cook-Off check is financing my volunteer status, in the meantime.” Sherry wondered what was so interesting on the ground that kept Ray from raising his head. “Stop by if you can, and I’ll practice my spiel on you.” Sherry waved and began backing up before Detective Bease could say another word.
“Which way to the vegan desserts table?” she heard the detective ask a woman with an official customer-service badge on.
Sherry passed the beaded-crafts table and neared the goat cheese booth that stood next to her Perfect Storm Pickles location. In a million years, she never thought she’d see who she saw offering goat-cheese samples. The woman’s dirndl was a different color and the ribbons in her hair were updated to a new color scheme but none of the pageantry deflected from the fact Brynne Stark was standing between Sherry and her brined-cucumber table.
“Sherry Frazzelle.” Brynne presented her tray. “May I interest you in a goat-cheese sample?”
“Brynne Stark.” Sherry glorified the woman’s name with excessive use of her tongue and lips. She had no idea what Brynne had been up to since the investigation had concluded. She only knew the woman’s friend and employer, Nick Andime, had gone to jail.
“I’m sensing seeing me makes you apprehensive,” said Brynne, “but let me put your mind at ease. I would never have done anything to hurt you or anyone else. At the time, I was just so sick about the likelihood Nick had involved himself in something illegal. I sent you the doctored apron as a warning you might be getting into some hot water with a man who had a screw loose. From then on, Nick and his buddy Mike worked together to try and make your life a living hell in hopes you’d back off. I regret caring for a man with such evil intentions. As for me, my lawyer worked his magic and convinced the skeptics I had nothing to do with Nick’s plan.”
Brynne’s accent was thicker than Sherry had heard before. The girl wasn’t even trying to mask the twang the way she had at the cook-off.
“Something’s different about your face.” Sherry studied the location on Brynne’s face where a removal scar remained. She found the matching location on her own face with a light touch of her finger.
“Oh, this.” Brynne tipped her head upward. “I had my mole removed. My whole life I was proud of the fact I had inherited my granny’s birthmark. Employers tried to have me remove it, and I refused. But I think Gran wore it better than me. As long as it was my decision, I was going to go through with it. So, it’s gone. You know, next month I’m heading back home where I belong. I’ve accepted a job as the Channel Fourteen weather woman. I needed a new start. And I get to keep my accent, don’tcha know! I have spent so much time and money trying to not be the person I truly am. Turns out going home could be my biggest break of all.”
“I’m sorry Nick used you,” Sherry offered.
“I let him. He and his sidekick Mike will have a nice long time behind bars to think about what they’ve done. No hard feelings between you and me then?” Brynne presented the tray of cheese.
Sherry assumed if she took one, it would solidify the deal. Sherry studied the tray and then captured the tall, naive young lady’s gaze. Seeing an honest driven woman just trying to make it in the world behind those big brown eyes, Sherry put her hand out, but instead of taking a sample of cheese she waved off the cheese tray.
“No thanks. But no hard feelings.” Sherry turned and walked the final few feet to her pickle table.
It wasn’t long after Sherry finished organizing her product into a geometric grid consisting of sparkling glass jars housing green spears swimming in tangy brine that Ray Bease reappeared.
Seeing his eyes lapping up her display, she began her pitch. “The Perfect Storm Pickle comes in dill, garlic dill, and zesty dill. We offer whole pickles, spears, and chips depending on your needs.”
The detective examined the various jars, whose labels were decorated with dramatic storm clouds. He handled one jar at length, prompting Sherry to ask, “Is there any other information I can give you to help you decide?”
“Yes, actually. Would you ever want to go to dinner? With me, I mean.” Ray shuffled his feet while he waited for Sherry’s answer.
Sherry drew in her breath. “You know, I’ll never forget when you told me the apron I brought to the awards dinner was the ‘nail in the coffin’ for the case against Mr. Andime. My friend Amber was wondering why I brought it. I just had a feeling it was an important thing to do. Kind of the same way I know when my cucumbers have married with their garlic brine long enough to called pickles. It’s intuition, I guess. I just knew the logo on the apron was the smoking gun. Patti Mellitt proved Nick never went through the proper organic c
ertification process. OrgaNicks had no record of inspections or the paperwork that must be completed to get the proper label on a product. Nick masterminded printing his own labels, but they were the wrong color. He chose yellow and blue labels because they were his high school colors but those are not USDA-approved certified organic label colors. The apron sealed the deal, you said.”
“I did say that.” The detective rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes.
“You didn’t believe in my innocence at first, did you? Okay, I get it. You were just doing your job with the facts as they presented themselves. But I’m not sure I’m ready to socialize with someone whom I had to work so hard to prove my integrity to. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”
“Fair enough. Offer stands, as is. Just keep it in mind,” Bease said.
“Thanks, I will.” Sherry pointed to the pickle jars. “Have you made a choice?”
Detective Bease checked a piece of paper he held in his hand. He took a pen out of his shorts pocket that Sherry could see had a flamingo and an alligator on the shaft and made a notation on the sheet of paper. “Nothing today. Maybe next time.”
Sherry pointed to the detective’s pen. “Florida?”
Ray nodded. “Did you get a chance to read Patti Mellit’s article on OrgaNicks last month?”
Sherry picked up the smallest jar on the table. “The article was great. ‘No M’OrgaNicks’ was a perfect title. Bottom line, Nick Andime tried to shortcut the organic product process by printing his own labels without going through the proper certification process, but he got caught. Tried to take a lot of people down with him during his cover-up, but you were too good for him to get away with it. You must be very proud. Here.” Sherry handed the detective the miniature jar of pickles. “Free sample. You’ll be back after tasting these. I guarantee.”
“Miss Frazzelle,” the detective began.
“It’s Sherry.”
“Sherry,” Ray said. “The ingredients you added to my investigation made for a complete recipe.”
Sherry pulled something out of her cash box. She extended her hand and gave the detective a shiny green object. “For your collection.”
He smiled and walked away admiring his new pen in the shape of a cucumber, inscribed with “If you’re ever in a pickle . . .”
Recipes from Sherry’s Kitchen
Roasted Asparagus with Spring Harvest Butter
Makes 6 servings.
1 pound fresh asparagus, rinsed, tough ends
trimmed
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
¼ cup butter, softened, not melted
¼ cup fresh radish, chopped fine
2 tablespoons fresh chives, minced
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
Place asparagus across an 8 x 11-inch baking dish and toss with olive oil and Parmesan cheese. Bake 12–15 minutes.
Meanwhile, prepare butter by stirring together with radish, chives, and lemon juice in a small bowl. Cover butter blend with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to use.
Serve roasted asparagus by placing each serving of 6–8 asparagus on each plate and top with a dollop of blended butter.
Sticky Peppered Maple Steak with Pumpkin Pancakes
Makes 4–6 servings.
1 tablespoon salt
2 tablespoons pepper
4 boneless beef chuck eye steaks, cut 1-inch thick
(about 8 ounces each)
4 shallots, peeled, chopped
½ cup pure maple syrup
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
¼ cup dried cranberries
For the pumpkin pancakes:
½ cup canned pumpkin puree
1 cup buttermilk “complete” dry pancake mix
½ cup buttermilk
¼ teaspoon grated nutmeg
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, plus more if needed
when cooking pancakes
¼ cup toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds),
as a garnish
Combine the salt and pepper and rub seasoning over both sides of steaks. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium heat and add the steaks to the skillet. Cook steaks 8–10 minutes, flipping once until desired doneness.
Remove steak to a plate, and maintaining skillet heat, sauté shallots for 1 minute then add maple syrup, vinegar, and cranberries to the skillet.
Bring skillet contents to a low boil and simmer until thickening begins.
Add the steak back to the skillet and continue simmering until steak is lightly coated with peppered maple sauce, 1–2 minutes. Remove skillet from heat and let rest.
Meanwhile, prepare pumpkin pancakes by combining pumpkin, pancake mix, buttermilk, and nutmeg in a bowl. Heat 1 tablespoon butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Working in batches, spoon the batter into the skillet to form each of eight pancakes and flip when lightly browned and bubbly on one side, adding more butter when needed with each batch. Cook until set and remove pancakes to a plate.
Assemble each serving by giving each of 4–6 dinner plates 1–2 pancakes. Cut steaks into strips and top each pancake with 4 steak strips and sauce, and sprinkle with toasted pumpkin seeds.
New England Harvest Chicken Cassoulet
Makes 4–6 servings.
2 tablespoons olive oil
6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
2 cups applewood smoked chicken sausage,
cut in ½-inch segments
1½ cups diced carrots, celery, onions (about
½ cup each)
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary (or ½ teaspoon
dry rosemary)
1 teaspoon fresh thyme (or ¼ teaspoon
dried thyme)
1 cup “original” canned baked beans
½ cup chicken broth
2 cups canned fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1 cup sourdough bread crumbs
2 tablespoons melted butter
½ teaspoon garlic salt
2 tablespoons chopped parsley and lemon wedges
to garnish
In a large ovenproof skillet heat 2 tablespoons olive oil to medium hot. Add the chicken thighs and brown for 5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium, turn thighs, and sear on the other side for 2 minutes. Remove chicken to a plate.
Maintaining heat, brown the sausage for 3 minutes. Remove sausage to the plate with the chicken. Add vegetables, rosemary, and thyme to skillet, and sauté for 4 minutes. Add the baked beans, chicken broth, tomatoes, and the chicken, sausage, and any juices from the plate to the skillet and simmer over medium-low heat for 30 minutes, uncovered.
Heat oven to 350 degrees F. In a bowl, toss together the breadcrumbs, butter, and garlic salt to coat and sprinkle across skillet contents. Place entire ovenproof skillet in the oven for 15–20 minutes to brown topping. Carefully remove skillet (please don’t touch hot handle!)
Serve each portion of cassoulet garnished with a sprinkle of parsley and a lemon wedge.
Bronzed Bluefish with Artichoke Salsa and Sweet-and-Sour Guacamole
Makes 4 servings.
2 pounds bluefish fillets, skin on one side
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon marjoram
1 teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons cooking oil
For the artichoke salsa:
½ cup marinated artichoke hearts, chopped
½ cup chopped tomato
½ cup chopped red onion
2 tablespoons jalapeño pepper, chopped
2 tablespoons lime juice
½ teaspoon sea salt
½ teaspoon ground pepper
For the sweet-and-sour guacamole:
1 ripe avocado
1 tablespoon lime juice
¼ cup diced ripe mango
Cilantro and lime wedges, to garnish
Combine the garlic powder, paprika, marjoram, and 1 teaspoon s
ea salt. Rinse fish fillets, and rub both sides with garlic powder blend. Heat cooking oil in a large frying pan over medium heat until it’s hot. Place fish nonskin side down and fry for 3 minutes. Flip fillet and cook skin side down until skin is crispy. Remove to a plate.
Combine salsa ingredients in a bowl.
Prepare the guacamole by mashing the avocado and lime juice until smooth. Gently stir in mango, taking care to leave chunky.
Divide the fish on 4 serving plates, and serve with a helping of salsa and a spoonful of guacamole. Garnish with cilantro and lime wedges.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Devon Delaney’s next Cook-Off mystery
FINAL ROASTING PLACE
coming soon wherever print and e-books are sold!
Chapter 1
“You’d think winning recipe contests was a matter of life and death. All the other contestants, except one, stormed out of here in such a huff I didn’t get to try their appetizers.” Erno Oliveri put one arm around his daughter, while snaking his free hand toward the plate loaded with crab stuffed mushrooms. He popped one in his mouth. “If your recipe beat these beauties, you must be a great cook.” He released his daughter and went back, double-fisted, for more.
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