‘Your truffles are my favourite! What’s in them?’ Adriana interrupted loudly, helping herself to more from a new tray that Steve had discreetly brought up from the kitchen.
She looked as if she was the type of person who made sure she always had food within easy reach, no matter where she happened to be sitting. The amount she ate didn’t equate at all with her thinness. Either she had the most astonishing metabolism, or she wouldn’t be eating for the next week – unless, of course, she was bulimic.
‘Chocolate, pecans, cranberries and Bourbon,’ I answered.
‘Wow! You’re a genius! I’m so thrilled to meet the great Victoria Prescott!’
I said nothing.
‘I’m quite amazed that you like to live by yourself.’ Daphne evidently couldn’t drop the subject. ‘You see, I can’t spend a minute alone. But if I do happen to be by myself, I take my cell phone and work through my phonebook until someone answers, or I send emails, or chat online with strangers from all over the world.’
Oh dear, I feel so sorry for you.
Unfortunately, this was how people had begun to live, vicariously, through a myriad of communication gadgets, which seemed to give a purpose to their lives. I wondered if they were actually afraid to be by themselves, even if only for a little while.
‘Daphne thinks that you’re very shrewd since you advised Robin so successfully,’ added Adriana, gazing at the last truffle in her hand.
Robin nodded in agreement.
Jeez, I’d had no idea my words would be so convincing that she’d take them so literally.
Adriana was beckoning to Steve to bring her another Kir Kennedy. Her glass was already empty. I’d hardly touched mine. Even though it was quite good, I didn’t feel like drinking it after the wine I’d been sipping so peacefully in the kitchen until I was called upon to present myself.
‘So tell us about your hermit life,’ Daphne implored.
‘What can I say? I guess it all started when I realised that I didn’t want to be like my parents or other couples around me because they were always engaged in a power struggle. I came to the decision to only rely on myself in order to be truly independent and to try to have a peaceful life. I don’t like conflict.’
‘But you need a man. You know what I mean; we are human, after all,’ asserted the bold Adriana, popping the last truffle into her month in a very sensual manner.
‘You mean, for sex?’
Robin and Daphne reddened. Adriana took a sip of her drink.
‘Well, of course we’re animals too, aren’t we? And we all have basic instincts and needs. But I like to think that, being human, we are also very emotional – at least I am – and therefore I can find more refined pleasures in life.’
‘Like eating chocolate,’ Adriana exclaimed, ‘or enjoying your delicious food! I don’t blame you. For me that’s how it works. No sex for a while, no big deal! I’ve just had a nice meal with champagne, and some chocolate for dessert. I don’t need anything more to enjoy myself!’
I suspected she must have sex more often than food, as she was as skinny as a rake. Was she eating tonight to compensate for going without sex for a week?
They were making me feel a bit defensive with that tired old cliché: no sex, but an addiction to food. But that wasn’t it at all! I didn’t agree but it wasn’t worth trying to explain to them. They probably wouldn’t understand.
‘Where do you live?’ Daphne asked, willing at last to change the subject.
‘In a pretty little house near the ocean, with my faithful Chipolata.’
‘You have a cat. I’m allergic to them,’ Adriana rushed in.
Another cliché. Single women have to live with cats, don’t they?
‘Chipolata is a dog, a darling cocker spaniel.’
‘But what about having a family?’
I could see from her face when she asked this question that Daphne was dying to meet a man to father her future children.
‘Well, when I said that I didn’t want to be like my parents or other couples because they were always engaged in a power struggle, that applies to the entire family as well. I don’t believe in family harmony. At least, I’ve never met a family that would make me want to have my own. Besides, I’ve got friends and relatives who have children. I see them once in a while. It’s good enough for me.’
‘I want three or four children,’ Daphne stated.
‘Yeah, sure,’ Adriana laughed.
I didn’t pay any attention to her.
‘You know, I simply enjoy looking after my garden, and plants are much quieter than children …’
‘My nieces and nephew are cute but they cry all the time!’ Adriana told us all. She always had to have her say even when her mouth was full of yet more of the chocolate truffles that Steve had just brought out. ‘But I heard that when they’re your own, it’s—’
Robin frowned and shushed her.
‘I work a lot, like we all do nowadays. So when I have some free time I really want to appreciate it my own way. For example, in winter, I usually sit by the fire in my living room, just watching the flames, or if the sun is shining I’ll sit on the porch where I also have a fireplace. In summer I sit on the beach and watch the ocean, and just listen to the waves and wind. I love hearing the sounds of nature. The ocean is what fascinates me the most. I love everything about it: its sounds, its smells, its colours and textures.’
‘That sounds, er, interesting,’ whispered Daphne the dreamer, who I was sure had never experienced such a simple existence, and who wouldn’t ever have much time for one with the big family she intended to have.
‘Sounds boring to me,’ confessed Adriana.
Of course! Adriana was obviously like so many young people, constantly listening to her iPod or talking on her cell phone, even while walking on the beach. I’d be willing to bet she never even heard what was going on around her.
Robin was pensive again, looking once more at the gilt-framed Italian picture with the plump cherubs.
‘You know, it’s quite important for a cook to be able to smell the essence of what Mother Earth gives us: aromas and perfumes that I take from my garden to the table.’
‘You are quite sensuous,’ Robin remarked.
‘And sensual as well,’ added Adriana. ‘That’s why your cooking is so delightful, and so full of flavour. You cook with your heart and soul.’
You should try it sometime, I was tempted to say.
‘Don’t tell me that you don’t have relationships with guys at all?’
I don’t know why I even bothered to reply, since I was not in the mood to discuss my private life. I must have been very tired.
‘Not often. If I date someone, after only a few weeks I start to feel the pressure of commitment, and I find that difficult. My work is tiring, and I really need time by myself to recover.’
‘Right, I see,’ chorused the three women at the same time; even though they didn’t really have to work for a living and just did it to fill the time.
‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better go back and see what’s happening in the kitchen.’
They politely thanked me for the food and the time I’d shared with them, and made promises that they would keep in touch, that I’d cook for Robin’s engagement party, and that I’d come to her wedding.
As I turned to leave I heard Adriana say, ‘Daphne, when are you going to introduce me to your cousin now he’s back from Sardinia?’
I was right. She needed a man. All that chocolate she had been eating was just a substitute for sex.
The other two started giggling along with her. They wouldn’t change. They liked having affairs, relationships, or whatever they liked to call them. They were all terrified of having too much blank space in their precious diaries.
Mrs Brown was calling me. A friend of hers was dying to meet me.
Oh, good heavens, it was Ken!
Great!
After a smiling introduction, Mrs Brown left us.
&nbs
p; ‘When I found out you were going to cook for the Browns, I invited myself over, but I had to have dinner with my parents first. You know, Victoria, everyone here is amazed at how you managed to combine food from Louisiana and New England for the menu tonight, and that you cooked the best ever turkey.’
Talking about turkey, here you are.
‘Give me another chance, Victoria …’
Without thinking, I suddenly took his arm and led him to the comfortable chairs where I’d left the three women a few minutes earlier.
‘Robin, Daphne and Adriana, I want you to meet Ken, who is …’
Three pairs of eyes looked up at me, then at Ken, with unabashed joy.
‘… er, who is desperately interested in meeting all of you. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the kitchen.’
I walked away quickly without looking back.
The last thing I heard was Ken calling my name.
Finally I was able to leave, having asked Steve to supervise the remainder of the clearing up in the kitchen and dining room.
Back home I was so tired that I knew if I went to bed immediately I wouldn’t sleep.
On the porch, I lit the fire, took out my blanket, made myself some nice herbal tea, poured out a small glass of cranberry liqueur, sat on my rocking chair, and looked at the white waves softly illuminated by the immaculate moon. Chipolata was panting gently, also enjoying the moment. I valued this special time, knowing that the ocean would never let me down. Every little sip of the cranberry liqueur was a drop of life: bitter, sweet, bitter, sweet …
Two Victoria’s Secrets
Victoria’s New Orleans Chocolate Truffles
Makes about 35 truffles, enough for Adriana and her friends.
250g dark chocolate (minimum 50 per cent cocoa), broken into small pieces
1 tbsp butter
½ cup (125ml) full-fat crème fraîche
¾ cup (75g) finely chopped pecan nuts
¾ cup (75g) finely chopped dried cranberries
2 tbsp Bourbon
sieved cocoa or icing sugar, to dust
1. Melt the chocolate with the butter in a bowl set over a pan of simmering water.
2. In a separate small saucepan, bring the crème fraîche to the boil. Take off the heat and gently stir in the melted chocolate until smooth. Stir in the rest of the ingredients and allow to cool. Transfer to a bowl and refrigerate for an hour.
3. Using a melon-baller or a teaspoon dipped in hot water, shape the mixture into about 35 truffles and place on a baking sheet lined with parchment. Refrigerate for another 15 mins. Each truffle can then be rolled in sieved cocoa or icing sugar. The truffles keep well in the fridge for a week.
Victoria’s Cranberry Liqueur
This cranberry liqueur is delicious topped up with sparkling wine or champagne to make a Kir Kennedy. Makes approx 1.25 litres.
2 cups (320g) dried cranberries
1 bottle (70cl) vodka
1 cup (200g) granulated sugar
1. Place the dried cranberries in a 1.5-litre jug or jar. Pour in the vodka and cover with a lid or cling film. Leave to soak for 4 –7 days in a cool, dark place.
2. When the cranberries have steeped for sufficient time, heat the sugar and 2 cups (500ml) water in a saucepan until the sugar dissolves. Bring to the boil, then simmer gently, uncovered, for 30 mins. Allow the syrup to cool, then pour it over the vodka and cranberries. Cover and leave to stand overnight.
3. The next day, filter the cranberry liqueur through a jelly strainer or muslin cloth. Pour into sterilised bottles, seal, and leave to settle overnight before drinking.
The leftover strained cranberries can be turned into a preserve to sandwich a Victoria sponge or served with ice cream. Cook gently with an equal weight of granulated sugar for an hour.
December
Food, Comfort and Joy
‘Tell me what you eat and I’ll tell you what you are.’
Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, 1755–1826, French lawyer, politician, epicure and gastronome
‘So you’re telling me that you want to sue Fifty State Burger and Cable Boon because you think that they’re the ones responsible for—’
‘They are the ones to blame. There’s no doubt about it!’
This was said sharply and unequivocally.
I turned my eyes away from the window. I had been looking out at the slowly falling snow. Now I observed my new patient with greater attention since I had never heard anything like that before. Although he seemed comfortable lying on the blue sofa, his breathing was loud and laboured, as if he were having respiratory failure. Pen in hand, I was poised to write down whatever words came out of his mouth.
His name was Dominic.
Dominic was very obese. I had noticed immediately how uncomfortable it was for him simply to exist. His red face was an obvious sign of poor health. His vast clothes were sloppy. Dominic didn’t give me the impression that he took much care of himself. It was distressing to look at him. Poor man! I hoped I’d be able to help.
His round eyes were a beautiful pale green and were fixed on the picture on the wall facing him.
‘Tell me more about it,’ I said gently, though I thought it both ridiculous and grotesque.
No answer.
I tried again. ‘Is it new, this decision to sue the fast-food and television companies?’
A great sigh escaped from the large man. ‘Two weeks ago, I guess, I came up with it after I saw a woman on TV who got one million dollars in damages from the cigarette company she’d sued. She’d been smoking cigarettes since she was thirteen, and developed lung cancer because of it. She said that if the cigarettes hadn’t been on sale she wouldn’t have started smoking in the first place.’
Sure, as if someone forced her to buy and smoke them.
Stories like that made me angry. Nobody wanted to be responsible for their own actions any more. We lived in an infantile society where we demanded more security but accepted no responsibility. It was always others who were to blame.
‘This story made me think, you see …’ Dominic continued, his eyes still glued to the picture. ‘It made me realise that I’ve been eating food from Fifty State Burger for more than forty years now. It’s certainly the reason why I’m so overweight and unhealthy today.’
So Dominic had already started eating at Fifty State Burger when he was just four years old. Yuck! I once went to one of these restaurants just to try their food, and I was sick for almost two days! As soon as I entered the place, I could smell the grease. Everything was deep-fried, even the vegetables.
‘My mother would take us there pretty often. You see, I’ve got three siblings, and my dad was always travelling. There was a Fifty State Burger right down the street, and since they were always saying on TV and the radio how it was the right place to take your family for good food, my mother would do like the other mothers from the neighbourhood and take us there all the time.’
It was impossible to miss these restaurants. In front of every one there was an enormous kitsch red bull, wearing a white stetson, with the American flag emblazoned across its flank.
This got me thinking about my own family when I was growing up. We didn’t have much money but we always had healthy food on the table, since my mother didn’t work and she had time to shop. We didn’t have any choice but to eat healthily as she had problems with her cholesterol at a young age. We all had to follow her diet. With hindsight I realised how lucky we all were. And portions were smaller then, weren’t they? They seemed to have become bigger and bigger over the years, growing along with people’s appetites: not a very positive trend.
Dominic continued his story.
‘We would go there every other day because it was so much fun! I also remember collecting the tiny bulls from the different states. I got all fifty! I displayed them in a cabinet in the family room …’
A beautiful collection!
‘Most of the time we would meet our neighbours there. In the summer we kids could
play in the inflatable pool while our mothers would chat after we’d eaten. This regular gathering really seemed to reinforce our neighbourhood community.’
Right!
‘At that time, it was proven that Fifty State Burger’s food contained all the nutrients we needed every day. We all believed it.’
And how could people avoid the silly song? On radio, TV … Promotional cars with loudspeakers blaring out the Fifty State Burger slogan would even drive around the neighbourhoods, drumming up customers.
After another big sigh, Dominic started singing. His voice was smooth and melodious. Surprised, I listened intently to him.
Of course the lyrics didn’t mention the deep frying, the excess salt and sugar.
‘Their kids’ playroom, their bull collection … Later on, when I was thirteen, when my mother wasn’t at home, since by then she’d started working, I used to stop off at Fifty State Burger on my way home from school because I was always hungry.’
Dominic went on to relate a typical day when he was a teenager.
‘What is it that you like about this food?’
‘Come on, it’s really tasty! The mixture of sweet ketchup and tangy mustard smeared over a cheeseburger, the golden French fries, and the deep-fried veggies … And it all looks great as well as being good to eat. Then you wash it down with a giant, cold, thirst-quenching cola.’
‘Don’t you find it too fatty, too salty and too sweet, all at the same time?’
‘No,’ Dominic answered simply, then upon reflection added: ‘Well, I never used to think that but I guess I was being deceived all those years. That’s why I’m going to sue the liars!’
Dominic had got used to the excessive flavourings, which had gradually destroyed his taste for less processed and more natural foods.
By then I was feeling more like a dietician than a therapist.
‘You know, the restaurants are very clean. You’d be amazed!’
Oh, please!
Freedom Fries and Cafe Creme Page 21