Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics (14 page)

“Pesce Spada Con Patate,” she said perfectly then, struggling with the English words, “Baked swordfish with Potatoes.”

The rest of them applauded her efforts. Then Antonio finished it off. “And these are served with Passato Di Fagioli, Bean Puree, Beitole Con Pinoli, Swiss chard with Pine nuts and Pomodori Fritti, Fried Green Tomatoes. We hope you enjoy.”

The wait staff came out of the kitchen with the laden plates, and more bottles of wine were produced. Millie could see this meal was going to go on forever.

“Save room for dessert,” she warned Ruth, “You’ll be sorry if you don’t.”

Ruth nodded; she was really enjoying this Retreat.

Millie tasted everything very carefully, trying to detect every spice in each dish. After dinner they would all get copies of the recipes used for all the dishes, but only after having the detailed discussion and critique of the meal. She had already discovered that many Tuscan dishes were deceptively simple, relying on freshness and quality to produce wonderful flavors.

“These are very good, especially the veal. But our group can beat this,” George said from the other side of Ruth.

Ruth drew back, taking exception to his statement. “Well George, you haven’t tried Group B’s main course yet. I think you’ll be hard pressed to surpass us. Those appetizers were only an indication of the talent we have in our group.”

“Huh oh, I think I may have thrown down the gauntlet. Millie, what do you think?”

“I think Group C is undoubtedly the best here. I’m sure by the time we leave, Ruth will agree with me, reluctantly perhaps, but she will be truthful. Won’t you, Ruth?”

Ruth shook her head. “You wish.” She took another bite of the veal. “This is really good. And the rabbit! I never cook rabbit and now I wonder why. I think I like it better than chicken. What do you think?”

“Don’t eat too much or you’ll be sorry,” she warned her friend again.

“Nag, nag, nag...” Ruth laughed. “Don’t worry; I’ll have plenty of room for your dessert.”

George winked at Millie and turned to LiAnn on his other side.

Finally it was time for dessert. Millie was excited as she expected the other members of the group were. They had decided to have three of their five sets of deserts placed on the table for people to admire. And the Villa staff would plate the other two. As they were serving three deserts to everyone, the small servings of each would mean two sets would be more than enough.

Millie looked critically at the plate set in front of her. The serving staff did a good job of making each dessert attractive with the others on the plate. They poured a light, sweet Moscato d’Oro wine which complimented the desserts perfectly. She watched with satisfaction as the diners tasted the desserts.

“Oh, this custard is wonderful.”

“It’s Chef Martin’s ricotta, but it’s different. Taste it.”

“How did you get the layers in the custard? I love this,” Ruth asked her. But Millie shook her head, refusing to answer.

Millie eyed the custard. It was inverted just before serving so the caramelized sugar, which had liquefied in baking, puddled around the rich chocolate custard resting on the hazel nut crust. She tentatively tried a bite. She sighed with pleasure finding it tasted as good as it looked.

When everyone was positive they could eat no more the tables were cleared and coffee was served while Chef Martin led a lively discussion of the dishes served. Everyone had an opinion, a comment or a suggestion, some more than others. LiAnn was very outspoken in her comments, but Millie had to agree she made some very good points. Frederick and Helga both contributed even withstanding the language barrier. Steven, too, had a lot to say. Of course in his business you’d expect he would. But they all agreed they had produced a fine meal. Chef Martin congratulated them and led them in a round of applause.

“Now remember, tomorrow is pasta day. Chef Geno will be joining us with some of his best offerings. And tonight there will be jazz music in the main salon.”

The group dispersed, many adjourning to the Main Salon.

“Did you get a message?” Ruth asked when Millie joined her at the table off to the side of the room.

Millie nodded. “I didn’t talk to her, just another message. But at least I know she’s safe.

“She went to Sienna. Says it’s lovely and the Duomo has the most exquisite marble floor. She said she would call again but didn’t expect to reach me.”

Millie was relieved. Just then the cocktail waitress came by, so Ruth ordered another Gin and Tonic while Millie ordered a mineral water with lime.

The Main Salon was situated between the lobby and the bar. It was fairly full as not only the members of the cooking retreat were here but other guests staying at the Villa and even some people who had come for dinner were staying for the music. For a while they just sat there enjoying the music and watching the people. But when the jazz combo took a break Ruth announced she was joining some of their classmates to continue their poker game.

“Got to pay for the trip, you know.” She winked at Millie as she left.

“Just be quiet when you do come to bed, I need my beauty sleep,” Millie retorted, content to sit for a while longer and finish her mineral water.

“Can I buy you another of those?” Chef Martin asked as he pulled out a chair. “What is it?”

“Mineral water and no, thanks, this will do me.”

He made a face. “You’re drinking mineral water in the middle of wine country?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve had my share of wine. I’m not used to having a different wine with every course and, by the time we finished dinner, I was feeling it.”

He chuckled. “So was everyone.” He looked up and smiled as the waiter put down his drink, then turned back to Millie. “Looks like you’re one of the few left. Are you a jazz buff?”

She nodded. “Kind of. Not an expert, I just enjoy it when I get the chance. And I won’t be here for long. It’s already past my bedtime, but I just can’t get up the energy to move.”

He laughed, and then he looked at her carefully. “I just can’t believe you had the strength to knock me over yesterday. I truly appreciate it. I think that only you and I know how close I came to having a terrible accident.” His voice was low and steady, conveying his appreciation.

Millie felt the heat as the blood rose to her cheeks. “Really, Chef Martin, it was nothing. Wait, I don’t mean that it was nothing, just that anyone would have done the same thing if they had been where I was and had seen what I saw.”

He looked at her solemnly and then shook his head. “No, no I believe you are mistaken. There were many people there and no one saw it but you. And, even if they saw what was happening, not everyone would have had the courage or the foresight to act as quickly or as effectively as you did. I am truly very grateful to you.” He smiled and she felt her toes curl. “And when we are not in class, please call me Jean.”

She nodded happily. Then changing the conversation to a more pleasant subject she inquired about his pending trip to the Culinary Olympics.

Millie and Ruth shared a breakfast table with George and Jacques. They were all a little subdued this morning.

“Too much rich food and wine,” Millie suggested.

“Not for me. It was that poker game, which didn’t end until the wee hours,” Ruth retorted.

Jacques nodded in agreement, but truthfully he was the only one who looked bright-eyed this morning.

Millie considered him, thinking sourly that youth will win out. “Did you win?” She asked Ruth, knowing how much she loved to win at cards.

“Not much. No, my friend, there is the winner.” She nodded her head at Jacques. “That sweet innocent face, his shy grin, and we all fall for his bluffs. Well, no more! You’ll see at the next game, my friend. We’re all on to you now.”

Jacques just smiled and from George’s expression Millie guessed he had been one of the big losers.

“I’ve decided to go to church this morning with Jacques. There is a Mass at eight-thirty he says, and the bus will leave a little after eight o’clock. Want to come, Millie?”

Millie considered, thinking while in Rome... But then she shook her head. “I think I’ll take a walk. The fresh air will do me good before we’re cooped up in the kitchen again.”

“That does sound good. Do you want company?” George asked tentatively.

“Of course, love it.”

They headed out through the gardens, admiring the profusion of healthy herbs and the row after row of lettuces. They found a path at the end of the vegetables just as the desk clerk had told them and followed along the vineyards as it sloped gently downward.

At the fork they veered away from the fields and into the trees. Here the path led through a heavily wooded area. The cool dampness was wonderful; the air had an earthy smell. Shortly after taking this path they encountered Sam and LiAnn.

“Good morning. Isn’t it a lovely morning?” Millie was enthusiastic; the walk had already perked her up.

Sam nodded, LiAnn spoke. “How are you this morning? Have you had breakfast yet?”

George nodded. “How’s the trail that way?”

“Nothing much there,” LiAnn said. “But there is a little fork up ahead that might be interesting to explore.” She smiled her inscrutable smile. “We’re heading back for breakfast now.”

Further down the trail George shook his head and said, “That LiAnn is something, isn’t she? She’s always moving around, poking her nose into everything. She can’t just be part of the group. And yesterday her insistence on that cake was annoying. I mean, it’s supposed to be a group process.”

Millie nodded. “Well, you do know she is the revered matriarch of a very large family. And, as the Chinese traditionally honor their parents, I think she is law in the family and so she probably just expects the same from everyone.” Millie chuckled. “I’m sure it never occurred to her that others may consider themselves in charge. No, she is the director.”

Then Millie laughed out loud. “Did you happen to see her face when she found out we would each have to make a set of desserts? I could see it was a struggle for her. Maybe it’s her age. God only knows how old she really is.”

Millie thought a moment, then shook her head. “No, I think she usually gives the orders and then only directs the action. It was hard for her to actually make the dishes.”

George nodded thoughtfully, agreeing with Millie’s conjecture.

“And George, truthfully, the cake was very good. And it was attractive with the layered apples on top. And it went wonderfully well with the Ricotta and the Budino, so it was a very good choice.”

“Ah, Millie, I expect you’re the peacemaker in your family. It was good and it did work well with the other desserts, but I can’t give her any credit for that as we hadn’t decided on the other dishes at the time she decided on the cake.” He smiled. “But I guess I’ll cut her some slack. You’re right. She is an old woman who has accomplished a lot in her lifetime. I guess she’s entitled to be a little autocratic.”

Millie nodded, thinking George was a very nice person.

“This must be the fork she spoke of. Want to take it, or go the way she did?”

Millie looked at the fork and then shook her head. “It looks like it goes back up toward the vineyards; let’s stay on this path in the woods where it’s so pleasant.”

They walked for another twenty minutes until George warned they needed to turn around or risk being late to morning class.

The way back was almost like taking another trail as they saw different things coming from the other direction.

“Oh look, George. Are those mushrooms?” The white fungi nestled among the tree roots in the damp earth.

George looked at them closely then shook his head. “I don’t know. They look like mushrooms, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to try them. I’m afraid I don’t know enough to say.”

“Well, they look beautiful, but you’re right. The safest way is to buy them at the market. You know I have a wonderful recipe for a mushroom medley I use with roasted meat and serve with polenta.” And they finished their walk talking about favorite recipes.

“Hey, you two, look at this?” Marybeth Lewis called to George and Millie from the corner of the garden.

They joined her and saw the profusion of zucchini flowers on the vines in front of them.

“No wonder they had all those flowers available for us to stuff for appetizers last night. I thought we were just incredibly lucky.” She rose to her feet and dusted off her hands, looking around the garden. “Don’t you just love this? It makes my small herb garden look a little dowdy.” She pointed at another row of basil. “That basil makes me want to cry. I hope we’re going to use it today in our pasta class.”

“Speaking of...” George looked at his watch.

“Oh, dear, we’d better hurry.” Marybeth led the way.

The early morning fog had already dissipated by the time Kristen and Claire arrived at the waterfront. It took a while to choose from the bewildering array of pastries at the bakery and then they ordered coffee and orange juice from the café next door. They selected a table on the piazza in full sun, the umbrella still closed. The table sat invitingly just above the little strip of exposed wet sand. Today there were few boats sitting on the quay. Sunday was apparently not a day of rest for fishermen. Sitting back with legs outstretched to catch the warmth of the sun, they enjoyed their breakfast while they watched the drama of life in the village. Mass let out in the church at the water’s edge. Its doors opened onto the piazza and worshipers spilled out. Some clustered around the priest at the door, some moved in clumps through the piazza. Some were hurrying to begin their day, some were reluctant to leave, calling to friends, enjoying Sunday as a day of rest.