JC: William Redman Carter Part 2: Hermit Chapter 6 By Lazlo Zalezac Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2006 Sandra’s cheeks were burning bright red while everyone else around the table, with one exception, was laughing. The only one not laughing was Eddie. He looked puzzled and asked, “How is a person supposed to know that someone loves them if they don’t tell them?” Lucy reached over and patted Eddie on the hand. Having seen teenage girls falling over themselves to be close to him, she answered, “In your case, you can assume that ninety percent of the women your age love you.” “That’s ridiculous,” Eddie said looking down at his plate disturbed by the statement. His parents were always telling him things like that, but he didn’t understand why. Ed raised an eyebrow and smiled at Eddie’s discomfort. The girls in town were throwing themselves at Eddie and he wasn’t even aware of it. He turned to Amanda and asked, “So what did he say?” “I shut the door behind me,” Amanda answered with a giggle. Lucy was silent. She would never have thought to send Amanda to talk to William, but recognized that if anyone was able to break through the shell that he had constructed to keep everyone away that she was the perfect person. She sighed and asked, “So why isn’t he here?” When no one answered, Eddie asked, “Did anyone tell him that dinner was ready?” A stunned silence settled over the table. For a full minute no one said a word. Finally, Lucy stood up and said, “Excuse me. I’ll be back in a minute.” The discussion around the dinner table while waiting for dinner to be served was stilted and awkward at times. William tried to participate, but kept finding that he was at a loss in terms of the direction the discussion was heading. It was frustrating, but he did his best to muddle through. The conversation would have died except the new chef, Peter, had come to announce the beginning of the meal. Peter had created a masterpiece of cuisine from Italy and could hardly wait to see the reaction to it. This was the first meal that he was cooking for his new employers and he wanted to really impress them with his culinary skills. Once he had everyone’s attention, he said, “Tonight we are going to have a seven course meal from the land of Italy.” The entire table laughed when Eddie, in a very good imitation of Ed, interrupted Peter’s prepared speech and said, “Well I’ll be, I think we’re gonna have a salad with ‘eye-talian’ dressing on it.” Shaking his head, Ed said, “Everyone knows that a salad is supposed to be prepared by cutting a head of lettuce into quarters and drowning it in Thousand Island Dressing.” “And we want the good stuff, too. We’ll want the kind that comes in a bottle. We won’t settle for any of that cheap homemade stuff either,” Eddie said winking at his father. Listening to the exchange, Lisa initially thought they were serious, but the smiles on their faces were too broad. Glancing at Eddie, she said, “I know we have a big bottle of dressing in the refrigerator.” William laughed at the expression on Peter’s face. It was one of resignation to the inevitable. It looked like the time the man had spent as an assistant to Marguerite had not fully prepared him for dealing with Ed and Eddie. Taking a sigh, Peter said, “Yes, I found all of the bottles of that stuff some people call salad dressing. I put them all in a separate refrigerator along with other items that are only fit for barbarians. If you are ever in need of them, they are in the refrigerator we use for storing toxic waste.” Lisa would have been hurt by his comment except she had caught his wink. After all, she had stocked the kitchen with those items. She had turned the kitchen over to him convinced that she was going to miss homemade pot roasts, spaghetti and meatballs, and other basic meals that she had grown up eating and had made for her family. That thought reminded her that she considered William and Lucy like her own children. Sitting back in his chair, Ed grinned and asked, “Did you use that fancy sign from the hospitals, the skull and crossbones, or the green yucky face?” “I used all three and a handwritten sign,” Peter answered. Looking at Ed, he said, “Marguerite warned me that some of you are illiterate and require pictures.” Grinning at the chef, Eddie quipped, “Just like at home.” William laughed at the exchange taking delight in what to him were surprising twists and turns. It dawned on him that many of the conversations he had participated in had been somewhat flat because he had known what was going to be said before they even started. The first course was Antipasto with baby scallops, shrimp, calamari, artichokes, hearts of palm, roasted tomatoes and peas with a light vinaigrette. Peter didn’t seem to mind when Tim picked all of the peas out of the dish, but did frown when Ken did the same thing. Almost half of the people around the table did the same with the calamari. Peter sighed and returned to the kitchen to make notes about what people liked and didn’t like. Marguerite had warned him not to get too fancy until he learned the individual tastes of the people in the house. The second course was a cream of corn soup with mascarpone cheese. Nearly everyone at the table studied the soup intently before trying it. Much to Peter’s relief, it looked like everyone enjoyed the soup, but the reactions were not overwhelming. He sighed and wondered how Marguerite had managed to develop into such a great chef feeding people who weren’t comfortable with exotic cuisine. Eddie and Ed though seemed to enjoy it a lot. The third course was sautčed zucchini blossoms, stuffed with lobster and fine herbs, with Italian truffles and a truffle hollandaise sauce. After Peter had described the dish, Tim said, “I don’t like zucchini.” Embarrassed, Lisa said, “He didn’t say it was made of zucchini. It is zucchini blossoms that have been stuffed.” “We’re eating flowers?” Tim asked with an expression of disgust on his face. Eddie nodded his head and said, “I’ve had them before. They aren’t all that bad.” Tim eyed the plate when it was set in front of him and poked the food with his fork. He asked, “What’s a truffle?” “It is an expensive mushroom,” Lucy answered. She was eyeing her dish with more than a little suspicion as well. “No need to use expensive mushrooms for me,” Ken said. He took a bite of the dish and looked around with a grin. Surprised at the burst of flavors in his mouth, he said, “Hey, this is pretty good.” Looking over at his father, Tim worked up his courage to try eating the strange dish. He took a bite and chewed it. Nodding his head, he said, “I kind of like it.” Peter returned to the kitchen feeling very depressed. He knew that Ed and Eddie was very familiar with dishes like this, but he had assumed that William, Lucy, and their staff would have had some exposure to food. He wondered what kind of dishes Lisa had been cooking for them over the past few years. The fourth course was duck raviolis flavored with fine herbs, topped with shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, with a truffle herb butter sauce, garnished with basil. It was one of the dishes that had won Peter acclaim early in his culinary career. The reaction to his presentation was almost crushing. Seeing the bowl with four raviolis in it, Tim said, “They sure don’t look like the stuff from the can.” “No they don’t,” agreed Cathy. The zucchini blossoms hadn’t thrown her since her mother had a Native American dish that included squash blossoms, but this raviolis had only a superficial resemblance to the stuff her mother heated out of the can. She hadn’t ever had anything like this dish at home. Barbara said, “Well, some people say that the stuff out of the can isn’t really ravioli. Just like the spaghetti sauce from the jar isn’t really spaghetti sauce.” “I can understand that about the spaghetti sauce. My mom’s spaghetti sauce is a whole lot better than the stuff from the jar,” Tim said still eyeing the raviolis. He sighed and cut one of them into quarters. They were a lot bigger than the canned version. Laughing, Barbara took a bite of food and nodded her head appreciatively. Others around the table approached the dish with varying degrees of hesitation. Ed and Eddie immediately dug in and enjoyed it a lot. William liked it and said, “This is good.” Tim shook his head and said, “I don’t like it. It’s too dry.” Looking over at Peter with an apologetic look, Lisa said, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it.” “Okay,” Tim said pushing the dish away. He noticed that Cathy had done the same thing and gave her a grateful smile. It was good to know that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t care for the dish. Peter watched the tepid reactions to his dish for a full minute before heading out to the kitchen. His depression was intensifying and he wondered why he hadn’t listened better to the warnings given him by Marguerite. Turning to Alicia, one of the two assistant chefs, he said, “They don’t like it.” “You’re kidding,” she replied finding it difficult to keep from peeking through the kitchen door to verify what he had said. Peter made the finest raviolis that she had ever tasted. “No, a couple of them even pushed their plates away,” Peter said sinking into his chair. He looked over at the plates that Terri, his other assistant, was putting together. He hoped they would like the veal dish, but he doubted it. Soon it was time to serve the next dish. Peter went out and said, “The next dish is a roast tenderloin of veal served over an herb and truffle risotto, topped with vegetables, and sauced with a Sangiovese reduction sauce.” Tim was about to ask a question, but a glance from his mother stopped him. He sat back in his chair and wondered what a Sangiovese was. The others around the table looked interested in the dish so he chose to bid his time. Terri and Alicia removed the plates of ravioli noticing that half of them hadn’t been finished. The two exchanged glances and then served the veal dish. The reactions to the dish were positive. So far the dinner had lasted an hour and fifteen minutes. Peter felt like the evening would never come to an end. With a satisfied sigh, Rudy said, “It’s not quite a steak cooked medium well, but this looks a little better than English food.” Staring at the man with huge ears that stuck straight out from his head, Peter looked sick at the comment. This dish looked only a little better than English food? Not once while training to be a chef did he ever think that the food he lovingly prepared would be compared to English cooking. It was impossible. Even the English didn’t like their cooking. He nodded his head and said, “I would have had to boil the meat to prepare it English style.” Smiling at the pained tone in Peter’s voice, Rudy said, “Still learning how to boil water, huh?” Cathy hit him gently on the arm and said, “That was mean.” “I was just kidding,” Rudy said turning to look at Cathy surprised by her attack. He looked at the plate in front of him and said, “It does look pretty good, though. You’ve got no idea how much I missed real food while I was in England.” Only slightly mollified, Peter returned to the kitchen to check the ribs. He felt like he was walking through molasses. So far the meal had been a thoroughly miserable experience for Mandy. So far, all of the dishes had been a trial. With the Antipasto, she was never sure what was on her fork until she put it in her mouth. The calamari, complete with little tentacles, had been a very unpleasant surprise. The soup had been a relatively easy dish to eat, although it was difficult to know if she was holding the spoon level. The stuffed zucchini blossoms had been very difficult to eat. She had actually dropped one in her lap. After searching around on the plate with her fork, she realized that the veal medallions were larger than bite size. Turning to Juanita, she asked, “Could you cut up my meal?” Glancing over at the plate, Juanita realized that Lisa had always made sure to cut up the food for Mandy before serving it to her. She had also been in the habit of separating the foods into specific quadrants of the plate: meat at the bottom of the plate, starches to the left, vegetables to the right, and, if present, the fourth item at the top. She answered, “Sure, sweetie.” Frowning, Lisa looked at the elaborate arrangement of food on her plate and realized what the problem was. Embarrassed, she said, “I’m sorry. I should have warned Peter.” “It’s not your fault,” Mandy said feeling miserable. She could imagine that her clothes were completely stained by the food that had dropped from her fork. “I’ll let him know,” Lisa said standing up. “You don’t have to do that,” Mandy said embarrassed at being the center of attention. “Nonsense. It’s just a matter of arranging the food on your plate,” Lisa said heading into the kitchen while Juanita cut up the food on the plate. She did her best to arrange the result into the proper quadrants. Ed was busy going through his typical food appreciation cycle. After tasting the veal, he sat back and said, “This is very good.” Grinning, Eddie tasted his food and nodded his head in agreement. Peter had done an excellent job preparing it. It was tender enough to almost melt in his mouth. The flavors were rich and full. He looked over at Lucy and said, “You’ve got to try this. It’s really good.” Lisa returned from the kitchen with a concerned look on her face. She had not expected to see Peter near tears when she told him how to prepare the plate for Mandy. It wasn’t that big of a deal and he couldn’t be faulted for not realizing that he had to take special care in preparing her plate. She sat down and looked at the veal. It really did look good. The conversation was quiet while people ate. Juanita quietly helped Mandy with her meal. There were times when she paused and watched the blind woman struggle with the food. She knew that meals were the most stressful events of the day. Unable to see if the food was speared on the fork well enough to make the trip from plate to mouth, food often dropped onto her blouse. For an attractive woman, ending up looking like a toddler at the end of the meal was tough on the ego. There was a moderate delay between courses before Peter came out of the kitchen and said, “The next course is braised short ribs served with white bean and escarole seasoned with pancetta bacon and white beans with a Brunello red wine sauce.” “I didn’t know that barbecued ribs was an Italian dish,” Tim said. He grimaced when he caught the look his mother gave him. Defensive, he asked, “What did I say?” “He didn’t say barbecued ribs, he said braised ribs,” Lisa answered. She glanced over at Ken and was surprised to see that he shared Tim’s confusion. She asked, “What?” “What does braised mean?” Ken asked earning a thankful look from Tim. Even Cathy looked interested in the answer. Lisa looked over at Peter and asked, “Do you want to answer that one?” “Braising is a method of cooking. You first brown the meat or vegetables in hot fat to lock in the moisture and flavor. Then you add a little liquid and cook the food in a covered pot at a low temperature. The result is a very tender, moist, and flavorful dish,” Peter answered. “Sounds complicated,” Tim said. He asked, “Wouldn’t it be easier to barbecue it?” “Perhaps,” Peter answered. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a good barbecued meal,” Rudy said with a sigh. Looking over at William, he said, “I take it that by living here, I won’t have too many chances to barbecue.” “You can barbecue anytime you want,” William said looking over at the Texan. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “This is your home, not a prison. There’s no reason that you can’t cook.” Sandra had been quiet since William had come into the dining room. So far the meal had reminded her of the kinds of meals served at restaurants when successful men had tried to impress her on dates. The honest reactions of the people to the meal had been refreshing. On dates, the men had tried to impress her with their sophisticated appreciation of the food. Looking at William, she said, “You’ll have to try some of my lasagna sometime.” “That sounds good,” Amanda said not realizing that Sandra had been speaking to William. Lasagna was another of those difficult foods to eat, but she really liked it. Peter listened to the discussion with growing horror. He had just delivered a masterpiece of food to them and they were talking about barbecued ribs and lasagna. Looking up at the ceiling, he wondered if there was any justice in the world. If there was, the next meal they prepared would give them diarrhea. He took hope from that and watched as Terri and Alicia placed the plates. Shaking his head, he returned to the kitchen taking refuge in the fact that there was only one more course to get through. Juanita leaned over to Amanda and whispered, “He put the food in the proper quadrants on the plate.” “Thank you,” Amanda whispered back. Once Peter had left the room, Tim tried a bite of the meat. Nodding his head, he said, “He’s right. It is real tender.” “He’s a professional chef. Everything he cooks is going to be great,” Lisa said looking over at Tim. She felt embarrassed when comparing her cooking to his. There was no comparison between the low class food she prepared and that which he prepared. Seeing the expression on Lisa’s face, Lucy said, “I like your cooking, Lisa. It’s just like my mother’s.” “It’s not very sophisticated,” Lisa said biting her lower lip. This meal had pointed out that they were going to have a very different lifestyle here in Arizona. She looked at Tim and wondered how having gourmet meals would affect him when he struck out on his own. “This kind of food is good for a special occasion, but we won’t be eating like this every night,” Lucy said. “I like my mom’s cooking better,” Tim said smiling over at his mother. She didn’t put peas or those little octopuses (or what ever they were) in his food. Returning her son’s smile, Lisa tasted a piece of meat. Shaking her head, she said, “This is really good.” “I thought Italian was stuff like spaghetti, ziti, veal scaloppini, and pizza,” Tim said before taking another bite of his meal. “This is a more sophisticated Italian meal than you normally get in a chain restaurant. Pastas are usually side dishes rather than the main dish. Pizza isn’t really an Italian invention,” Barbara said. Nodding his head, Ed said, “Tim, I think you’ll learn a lot about food from Peter. I know that Marguerite really expanded my horizons when it came to eating. Sure, there are times when I still enjoy a Chicken Fried Steak, but I’ve come to enjoy a nice Duck ala Orange.” “You don’t think it is kind of weird to have two main meals in one meal?” Tim asked. He was starting to feel really full. “You can kiss my figure goodbye,” Sandra said thinking about how much she had eaten. They had been at the table for almost three hours. In a duet, Barbara and Juanita said, “Mine too.” Relieved at delivering the final course, Peter said, “The final course of the meal is peaches and blackberries marinated in Muscat wine, served over an almond cookie with a Muscat mascarpone cheese.” “Cheese for desert?” Tim asked earning a glare from Peter that was quickly suppressed. Ken and Lisa exchanged a quick glance. Ken knew that Lisa was feeling embarrassed by Tim’s questions. In a way, he agreed with her. The problem was that Tim had beat him to voicing the same questions. He felt like they were coming off like uneducated hicks from the backwoods. Trying not to sound too uneducated, he said, “You know what they say, when in Rome, do as the Romans.” Tim looked at his father and said, “I heard they have orgies there. Will we have one after dinner?” William nearly choked on his food at the question. Laughter erupted from around the table while Ken sputtered trying to come up with an answer. Peter left the dining room in disgust. His debut as a private chef had been a complete disaster. Ed held up his hand in an attempt to get some quiet. After a minute, the laughter died down and he could hear the sounds of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen. Shaking his head, he said, “The sounds coming from your kitchen remind me of home. Marguerite always does that when she’s sure that we don’t appreciate her latest attempt to poison me.” Eddie chuckled and said, “You had better take care of the problem, William, before he decides that you are fair game for poisoning like Daddy Ed.” Taking his wife’s hand, William said, “What do you think of our chef so far, Lucy?” “I rather like his cooking,” Lucy answered with a smile. She had found the food outstanding so far although the calamari was a bit too much. Small town girls from Pennsylvania didn’t have that many opportunities to eat calamari. She looked in the direction of the kitchen and asked, “What do you think upset him?” Shrugging his shoulders, William answered, “I don’t know those kinds of things anymore. I guess we’ll have to let him know what we thought of the meal after everyone has finished desert.” Amanda moaned and said, “Oh, this is so good.” Peter was left in the dining room stunned by the feedback from everyone at the end of the meal. Convinced that they had hated everything he had prepared for them, he wasn’t prepared for the praise. Even the kid who had questioned every dish had praise for most of the meal. In hind sight, he should have known better to serve some of the dishes to someone that young. He stumbled into the kitchen and picked up the phone. A few seconds later, he said, “Hello Marguerite. This is Peter and I’m seriously confused.” He should have expected her laughter.