Recipes for Life (15 page)

Tony and Leslie were regulars at our house in Malibu and we shared many great dinners with them at their beautiful home in Bel Air. Being a lemon lover, I asked them for this recipe.

LEMON SOUFFLÉ CURTIS

4 lemons

5 egg yolks

1½ cups granulated sugar

2 packages unflavored gelatin

2 cups heavy whipping cream

6 egg whites

⅛ teaspoon salt

⅛ teaspoon cream of tartar

Grate the lemon zest (you should have about ½ cup) and juice the lemons (1 cup).

On the top of a double boiler over gently simmering water, beat together the egg yolks, the sugar, the lemon zest, and the lemon juice. Cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture has thickened enough to coat a spoon. (This will take a little while.) Remove from the heat. Take the pan out of the simmering water and put the lemon mixture in a large bowl.

In a small bowl soak the gelatin in ½ cup of room temperature water. Stir to mix. Then add the gelatin to the warm lemon mixture and blend well. Set aside to cool.

When the lemon mixture is at room temperature, whip the cream until soft peaks form and mix it into the lemon mixture.

Beat the egg whites with the salt and cream of tartar until stiff peaks form. Fold half of the whites into the lemon mixture gently, to lighten the base, and then gently fold in the other half. Pour mixture into an 8-cup soufflé dish.

Refrigerate at least 4 hours.

Serve with raspberry sauce.

Here’s a really easy, delicious sauce you can make without ever turning on the stove.

2 cups raspberries

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

Mash ¾ of the raspberries through a large fine-mesh strainer, discarding seeds. (You can also puree them in a food mill, and then strain to remove the seeds.) Mix in the sugar and lemon juice.

Mash the remaining berries with a fork and stir into the pureed berries.

Refrigerate for at least an hour to chill through, and serve cold.

2 (10-ounce) packages frozen unsweetened raspberries

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

Place the frozen raspberries in a strainer suspended over a bowl, to thaw. Mash the thawed raspberries through the strainer to remove the seeds. Discard the juice and seeds. In a small bowl, mix the puree with sugar and the lemon juice.

E
VEN THOUGH
S
TAN
and I had been married a while, I was still driving the ’67 Jaguar that John had bought for me in Switzerland during my very first trip to Europe.

Stan didn’t like my having any reminders of my past, so he asked me what my favorite car was—besides the old Jag I was driving. I told Stan that there was one car that I thought was absolutely beautiful, an older classic Mercedes that I had dreamed about owning. Stan said he didn’t want to get me a used car; he wanted a new one with all the warranties. So for my birthday he gave me a brand-new, beautiful, little black Mercedes convertible coup. I was touched by his generosity, but a part of me still dreamed about the old classic.

Life works in mysterious ways, because if I had gotten my dream car, I would have really been depressed a couple of months later. I had been visiting Stan at his office in Beverly Hills. Parking was always at a premium, but I’d found a spot in the lot running parallel to the old railroad tracks. As I was pulling out I saw a lady waiting with her blinker on. Suddenly another car whipped around to try and steal her spot. I was so appalled that I decided to ease back into my space until the unethical man went away. But in my unnerved state, I accidentally hit the gas pedal and my new, super-powerful little Mercedes literally flew over the parking meter and onto the railroad tracks, where I sat in stunned horror while the man pulled into my space laughing his head off.

Later, as we watched (with the amused crowd that had gathered to see the little Mercedes somehow trapped sideways across the Beverly Hills train tracks), I was very relieved that Stan wasn’t angry. Instead, he
just laughed at the absurd situation and how totally flustered and embarrassed I was.

Believe me, at that moment, I certainly wasn’t thinking life never gives you a problem without a gift. But as always, it was true. A few weeks later, Stan was looking at a Rolls-Royce that he was thinking of buying for himself from Sonny and Cher, when Sonny asked him if he happened to want to pick up an old Mercedes, too.

Stan called me and said, “Come to this address, I want to show you something.” When I arrived, Sonny asked for the car to be brought around, and the second I saw it, I started to cry.

Stepping into my dream come true.

It was exactly what I’d dreamed about down to every detail, from the cream color, to the elegant burl wood and camel leather. It was as if the car had been waiting for me since the day it rolled off the assembly line.

Sonny and Cher had so many cars they hardly ever drove it. So this beautiful old Mercedes was like new.

Once again, life was showing me that if I can hold onto my dream, it will eventually come to me—even if sometimes it drives up in the most outrageously unexpected ways.

After my railroad track incident, Stan decided my nickname should be Tuffy, or at least it would be good if people thought I was tough, so he ordered a vanity plate with “Tuffy 9” on it, the number nine being a favorite of mine, not that there were nine of us “tuffing” it out on the streets of Beverly Hills.

I loved my Tuffy dearly. Every time I’d see Sonny around town, he’d always ask if I’d sell him back the Mercedes. It was a standing joke between us, but we both knew there was no way I was giving up my dream car.

G
REENY OVERHEARD THE
producers at Lorimar arguing over what to do about a well-known actress they were trying to negotiate a deal with for a new feature, due to start filming soon. She was apparently being very difficult. So Michael offered them a simple solution: take Linda, who you love to work with, and forget the temperamental actress.

Men in black and me—on location with Lee Marvin, Robert Shaw, and Horst Buchholz.

So off to Germany I went to begin filming
Avalanche Express
. It was a wonderful, international cast, featuring talents like Lee Marvin,
Robert Shaw, Mike Connors, Maximilian Schell, Horst Buchholz, and Joe Namath.

I arrived in Munich a couple of days ahead of most of the cast, so I found myself eating alone in the hotel dining room. Then one evening, Mike Connors and his wife Mary Lou came in, and from that moment on the making of
Avalanche Express
became one of my fondest memories.

We immediately hit it off. Mike is one of the funniest, most charming, and outrageous characters I have ever met. He could be Bunky’s twin. Mary Lou and Mike have an enviably romantic relationship. I could be walking along with them through the lobby of the hotel, when suddenly, Mike would take Mary Lou in his arms, dance a couple of Astaire-esque steps, then dip her to the ground, leaving the crowd cheering.

In the evenings, we’d often sit around the piano bar and Mike would hop on the piano and start singing “Strangers in the Night.” Mike’s fun-loving spirit was so contagious that one night Joe Namath joined him. I would have, too, but I didn’t want to clear out the bar with my singing.

If our little group wasn’t entertaining enough for us and all the people filing into the piano bar to see Mike, Ursula showed up, too—she had come in from Rome to visit me. Ursula already knew and had worked with most of the cast, so it was like old home week for most of them.

It was also wonderful having the opportunity to work with Robert Shaw, who, aside from being a truly brilliant actor, was a lovable, warm, charismatic gentleman. He had a keen wit and outrageous sense of humor. I’m sure Robert would have joined Mike at the piano bar if he hadn’t brought his wife and three children on location. But that was another thing I adored about Robert: that he wanted his family with him, even when he was working.

I had invited Stan to join me on location, but he didn’t come until the end of filming. I had heard a lot of rumors about all the parties he was having after I left. I had begun to sense something—something I just didn’t want to let myself believe. I was in deep denial. I kept telling
myself: There’s no way I could have done this again. There’s no way this was going to happen to me again.

When I returned from Germany, I couldn’t hide from my suspicions anymore, and my friends confirmed them for me. Stan was still a playboy. And now I had to ask myself: Did I want a husband who said he loved me and wanted to stay married to me, but who intended to be with other women? Of course I didn’t.

After my marriage to Stan ended, I was left with a horrible sense of sadness. It was more about me and my choices than anything else. Here I was, thirty-seven, and my dream of a lasting marriage with children was further away than ever. What was going on with me? Why was I not able to have those things I most wanted?

This was another turning point. For the first time in my life, I took a hard look at myself to figure out who and what I was all about. I kept myself from being distracted. I stayed away from books, newspapers, movies, and TV. I didn’t go out or see friends. I needed to turn my focus completely on myself to try to find some answers. What I discovered was the part I was playing in my failed marriages.