First, he phoned Polly at the library, asking if there might be a book on the fine points of showshoeing and, if so, would she bring it home? Meanwhile he gave the sport a try. He was clumsy. He tripped. His right shoe stepped on his left shoe. After he got the hang of it, he enjoyed tramping through the silent woods, although certain thigh muscles protested.
When he wrote his column on the joys of snowshoeing, it began: "Did you ever try walking through snow with your feet strapped to a couple of tennis rackets?"
Qwilleran was one of those invited to join the Nouvelle Dining Club. The prospectus - signed by Mildred Riker, Hixie Rice, and Willard Carmichael - stated; "We are committed to quality rather than quantity, pleasing the palate with the natural flavors of fresh ingredients seasoned with herbs, spices, and the essence of fruits and vegetables."
For each monthly dinner, a committee would plan the menu, assign cooking responsibilities, and provide the recipes. One member would host the event and serve the entr‚e. Others would bring the appetizers, soup, salad, and dessert courses. Expenses would be prorated.
Qwilleran signed up, volunteering for the wine detail, and he and Polly attended the first dinner one evening in January. It was held at the Lanspeaks' picturesque farmhouse in West Middle Hummock. Twelve members assembled in the country-style living room and talked about food as they sipped aperitifs.
Mildred entertained listeners with an account of her first cooking experience at the age of eleven. "I was visiting my aunt and was watching her make BLT sandwiches for lunch. Just as she started the bacon, the phone rang and she left the room, saying, `Watch the bacon,
Millie.' I did what she told me; I watched the strips turn brown and shrink and curl up. She kept yakking on the phone, and I kept watching the frying pan, and the bacon kept getting smaller and blacker. Just as I was opening a window to let out the smoke, my aunt came running. `I told you to watch the bacon!' she screamed."
Everyone laughed, except Danielle Carmichael, who looked puzzled. Foodwise she was at age eleven, according to her husband. Since he and Carter Lee had left for Detroit, she had driven to the dinner with Fran Brodie. Hixie Rice and Dwight Somers had carpooled with the Rikers. The Wilmots lived nearby.
For the sit-down courses, three tables-for-four were set up in the family room. There were place cards, and
Qwilleran found himself seated with Mildred, Hixie, and Pender Wilmot. He noted that Riker and Dwight were the lucky ones, seated with Danielle. At each place there was a printed menu:
Smoked whitefish on triangles of spoon bread with mustard broccoli coulis Black bean soup with conchiglie (pasta shells) Roast tenderloin of lamb in a crust of Pine nuts, mushrooms, and cardamom Pur‚e of Hubbard squash and leeks Pear chutney Crusty rolls Spinach and redleaf lettuce with ginger Vinaigrette and garnished with goat cheese Baked apples with peppercorn sauce
Mildred said, "The menu is built around local products: lamb, whitefish, beans, squash, goat cheese, pears, and apples. It's such a pity that Wilfred couldn't be here. I wonder what he's having for dinner tonight."
"If he's in Detroit," Qwilleran said, "he'll be headed for Greektown."
Hixie asked, "Do you think Carter Lee will ever come back?"
"I hope so," Mildred said. "He's such a gentleman, and that's unusual in one of his generation."
"He has a personality-plus, and he's not married."
"If you're staking out a claim, Hixie, I think you'll have to stand in line."
"Seriously," said Pender, `I see him as a visionary. I hope his plans for Pleasant Street come to fruition. It would be a stimulating triumph for the whole city."
Qwilleran said, "He's like some actors I've known,: laid back but fired with an inner energy that produces a great performance. I'm looking forward to interviewing him when he returns."
Pender asked about the status of the late Iris Cobb's cookbook. The long-lost recipe book was being edited for publication by Mildred. She said, I'm running into a problem. Only about two dozen recipes are original with her; the rest are photocopied from cookbooks by Julia Child, James Beard, and others."
Pender said, "You'll have to get permission to reprint, or risk being sued for plagiarism."
Hixie had an idea. Hixie always had an idea. "Make it a coffee-table book with large color photos on slick paper - large format, large print, and only her own creations. If it's going to be a memorial to Iris, make it spectacular."
Mildred said she would be happy to prepare the dishes. "Do you think John Bushland could shoot them?"
"It would be better to hire a specialist. I used to work with food accounts Down Below, and we'd fly in a photographer and food stylist from Boston or San Francisco. They'd use real food, but they'd glue it, oil it, paint it, sculpture it, spray it, pin it, sew it... "
"Stop!" Qwilleran said. "You're ruining my appetite!" He uncorked the wine and poured with an expert twist of the wrist when the lamb was served.
Pender complimented him. "Done like a professional sommelier!"
"I worked as a bartender when I was in college," Qwilleran explained. "I'm still available for private parties."
Before the forks could be raised, Larry stood and proposed a toast to Willard Carmichael. "To our best friend and mentor! May he live all the days of his life!"
The entr‚e was a taste sensation, especially the vegetable accompaniment. "I'll never eat mixed peas and carrots again!" said Qwilleran. At his table they began to talk about the best food they have ever eaten - and the worst.
Hixie said, "My worst was at a place between Trawnto Beach and Purple Point. I was driving around the county on ad business and hadn't eaten, so I stopped at a real shack that advertised pasties and clam chowder. It was mid-afternoon. The place was empty. A heavy woman came from the kitchen, and I ordered the chowder. She waddled back through the swinging doors, and I waited. Pretty soon a school bus stopped, and a young boy rushed through the door and threw his books on a table. Right away a voice yelled, `Baxter! Come in here!' He rushed into the kitchen and rushed out again, and I saw him running down the highway. Still no chowder.
Baxter returned with a bag of something which he tossed through the swinging doors before sitting down to do his homework. I began to hear cooking noises, so that was reassuring. In a while, the woman screamed for Baxter again, and he rushed into the kitchen and came out carrying a bowl with a spoon in it. He carried it very carefully with two hands and set it down in front of me. I looked at it and couldn't believe what I saw. It was watery, dirty gray, and appeared to be curdled, and there were lumps in it that looked like erasers from old lead pencils... I rushed from the premises."
Qwilleran said, "Too bad you didn't get the recipe."
"I think it was a quart of water, a package of instant mashed potatoes, and a can of minced clams," she said. "Serves four."
Just as the dessert course was being served, the telephone rang, and Carol went to the kitchen to answer it. She returned immediately with a look of anxiety and whispered to Fran Brodie, who jumped up and left the room.
Qwilleran stroked his moustache. There was something about this pantomime that worried him. Glancing toward the kitchen door, he saw Fran beckoning him. Now it was his turn to excuse himself and leave the table. She said a few words to him before he went to the phone.
In the family room the baked apples with peppercorn sauce were untouched. There was a murmur of concern.
Qwilleran returned and touched Larry's shoulder, and the two of them went to the foyer. Carol joined them for a moment of conference. Then the Lanspeaks together went to Danielle and led her across the foyer to the library.