Commercial fisherman: "My wife sent me to find out how to cook fish without so much grease. She just got out of the hospital, and she's on a diet."
Qwilleran was tempted to say, I've got a good cookie recipe for you. Instead he said, "You must be Aubrey's brother. His honey farm was the subject of my column yesterday."
"Yeah! Yeah! We all read it. The family was glad to see him get some attention. He's kinda shy, you know. Stays by himself, mostly. But he's got a lot on the ball, in some ways."
There was an unmistakable aroma of Thanksgiving dinner in the classroom. Qwilleran decided it was Mildred's crafty psychology to put the class in a good food mood. Promptly at 7:30 she appeared, her ample figure filling out an oversized white bib-apron. A floppy white hat topped her graying hair, and the insouciance of its floppiness made her audience warm up to her immediately.
After a few words of welcome, she began: "Thanksgiving is not far off, and some of you checked turkey on your list of requests, so tonight we'll take the mystery out of roasting the big bird and make you all instant turkey experts. This will be a two-bird demonstration, because roasting takes several hours. Bird Number One has been in the oven since four o'clock and will be ready for carving and sampling at the end of the session."
Qwilleran's interest in the class increased as he visualized a take-home for the Siamese. He clicked his camera as Sharon Hanstable entered the arena with Bird Number Two on a tray - plucked, headless, raw, and sickly pale. In bib-apron and floppy hat, she was a younger, thinner version of her mother, with the same wholesome prettiness and outgoing personality. Smiling happily and bantering with the audience, she handed out notepads, pencils, and brochures containing roasting charts and stuffing recipes.
Mildred said, "This handsome gobbler, which weighs a modest twelve pounds, arrived in a frozen state from the new Cold Turkey Farm and has been defrosting for two days in the refrigerator. Please repeat after me: I will never... thaw a frozen turkey... at room temperature."
A chorus of assorted male voices obediently took the oath. "Now for Step One: Preset the oven at three hundred twenty-five degrees. Step Two: Release the legs that are tucked under a strip of skin, but do not cut the skin."
Eleven pencils and Qwilleran's ballpoint were busily taking notes.
"Step Three: Explore the breast and body cavities and remove the plastic bags containing neck and giblets. These are to be used in making gravy. Step Four: Rinse the bird and drain it thoroughly."
Qwilleran thought, This is easy; I could do it; what's the big deal?
"Meanwhile, Sharon has been mixing the stuffing. It's called 'Rice-and-Nice' in your brochure. It consists of cooked brown rice, mushrooms, water chestnuts, and other flavorful veggies. So... Ready for Step Five: Stuff the cavities lightly with the rice mixture." Mildred tucked in the legs, placed the bird breast-up on a rack in the roasting pan, brushed it with oil, inserted a thermometer, and explained the basting process. By the time Bird Two was ready to go into the oven, Bird One was ready to come out - plump-breasted, glossy, and golden brown. She demonstrated the carving and the making of giblet gravy. Then the men were invited to help themselves.
"Good show!" Qwilleran said to Mildred as he filled his paper plate for the second time.
"Stick around," she said in a whisper. "You can have f the leftovers for Koko and Yum Yum."
The day after the cooking class, Qwilleran' s rave review appeared on the newspaper's new food page, along with a feature on fall barbecues, an interview with the chef of the new Boulder House Inn, and the Food Forum.
The comments and questions submitted to the Forum were signed with initials only, and they were interesting enough to have readers guessing: Who was B.L.T. in Pickax? Who was E.S.P. in Mooseville?
Does anyone know a good way to cook muskrat? My grandmother used to bake hers with molasses. It sure was good!
-E.S.P., in Mooseville.
If they reopen the dining room at the
Pickax Hotel, I hope they do something about those ghastly streetlights on Main Street.
They shine in the windows and turn the food green or purple.-B.LT., in Pickax.
I once ate a delicious coconut cream cake with apricot filling that a dear lady made for a church bazaar. She has since passed away.
Her name was Iris Cobb. Does anyone know the recipe? -A.K.A., in Brrr.
I don't have time to cook anything with more than three ingredients, and here's a casserole that my kids are crazy about. A can of spaghetti in tomato sauce, a can of lima beans, and six boiled hot dogs cut in chunks. -A.T.I:, in Sawdust City
My pet peeve-those restaurants so dark you can't read the menu without a flashlight. I won't mention any names, but you know who I mean. -I.R.S., in Pickax.
Help! Does anyone know the secret of the wonderful meatloaf that Iris Cobb used to bring to potluck suppers at the museum? My husband still raves about it. Help save our marriage! -B.S.A., in Kennebeck.
I think that I shall never see
A better cheese than one called Brie.
My brother goes for Danish blue;
My boss is nuts for Port du Salut.
Some folks in Pickax all declare
The tops in cheese is Camembert.
To each his own, but as for me, I cast my vote for creamy Brie.
-J.M.Q., in Pickax.
The Something celebrated the debut of the food page with an in-house party in the cityroom. Staffers drank champagne and ate turkey sandwiches, thriftily made from the meat of Bird Number Two. They praised Mildred for her barbecue story, Jill for her interview with the chef, and Hixie for her brilliant idea of reader participation. Everyone was surprised that the Food Forum was such a success in the first issue. The identity of J.M.Q was guessed, of course, and Qwilleran explained Jack Nibble's theory: If people can't pronounce it, they won't eat it, and Pickaxians have a problem with the French cheeses. What Qwilleran did not explain was his complicity in ghostwriting the entire Food Forum. No one noticed the frequent dead-pan glances that passed between him and Hixie.
Friday was the big day in Pickax. A yellow ribbon, a block long, was tied across the front of Stables Row. At 11:00 A.M. the public started to gather for the noon ribbon-cutting. There were loafers, retirees, young people who looked as if they should be in school, mothers with small children, and a middle-aged newsman with a large moustache, who was there to see what he could see and hear what he could hear.
What he saw was a row of seven new business enterprises, encouraged and subsidized by the K Fund, in- tended to enrich life in the community and dedicated to clean windows and tasteful displays. Reading from south to north, they were:
The Pasty Parlor, with its exclusive, all-new, great-tasting designer pasties.
The Scottish Bakery, featuring scones, shortbread, meat-filled bridies, and a death-defying triple-chocolate confection called Queen Mum's cake.
Olde Tyme Soda Fountain, offering college ices (sundaes), phosphates (sodas), and banana splits at an antique marble soda bar with twisted wire stools and a peppy soda jerk pulling the taps.
Handle on Health, selling vitamins, safe snacks, organically grown fruits and vegetables, and diet-deli sandwiches.
The Kitchen Boutique, with displays of salad-spinners, wine racks, espresso-makers, cookbooks, woks, exotic mustards, and chef's aprons.
Sip'n'Nibble, with assortments of wine and cheese hitherto unknown to many in Moose County.
The Spoonery, dedicated to fast-feeding with a spoon, either at a sit-down counter or a stand-up bar. Opening-day specials: sausage gumbo, butternut squash soup with garlic and cashews, borscht, and tomato-rice.
For the festivities, the entire block was closed to traffic, and as noon approached, it began to be crowded with downtown workers, shoppers, mothers with preschoolers in tow, and members of the Chamber of Commerce. Voices bounced between the stone facade of the old stables and the rear of the stone buildings facing Main Street. Not all was excitement and anticipation; there were cynical observations and dire predictions: