Three Ingredients II – 14: Chickpeas, Curry, Coconut Milk

Vintage shampoo adPete & Repeat

Two chickpeas, Pete and Repeat were in a pod-boat. Pete fell overboard. What was left?

“Repeat!” you say?  Well, alright then… Pete and Repeat were in a boat—

Okay, I’m just being silly. I would have done something with “Lather, rinse and repeat” but I couldn’t come up with anything.  It took me this long to realize that I was repeating an “ingredient” from Episode-13.  But do you really mind?  What vegetable could be cuter than a chickpea?

The ingredients for this episode are from the remarkable SheketEchad at the “Sunflower Solace Farm” blog. I hope you’ll visit and learn a little about her.  I could relate to her “About” page, because the idea of a little piece of heaven homestead is akin to my own dream of a cottage in a tiny town, or an adobe in the desert.  I’m in a wistful mood, so fantasies of a dream home and ideal life come readily, if intangibly to mind.Pug Girl hat

Since I didn’t give you an episode last weekend, you might need a refresher. At the top of this page, click on “Cookbook-2 Three Ingredients (Serial Home)” — all the past episodes are stored there (omitting the introductions).

Our flapper has been upset. Granny Fanny wanted to send her home. Andy was so afraid of  Granny that he wouldn’t even look at Pip.  What would become of our 1920’s culinary mystery without Pip?  Here’s Episode-14.  Bon appétit!

14.  Chickpeas, Curry, Coconut Milk

With Vanished

Tybee Island LighthouseI sat dangling my bare feet over the ocean.  Daisy sat next to me, idly swinging her feet.  Saltwater sprayed our toes when a wave came to shore.  The salty mist was a little cold and I drew my feet back.  However, it didn’t bother Daisy.  She was dead.

Her head snapped toward the coast and her eyes looked like she had recognized something that I couldn’t see.

“You should go back,” she said with a wan smile that went no further than her lips.

“I don’t want to go back,” I told the ghost woman.  “I’m too upset about all the horrid things Granny said to me.  I haven’t done anything racy.  And I was trying to help you!  It’s wrong for her to take her spite out on me when I’m doing something good,” I said rebelliously.

“Her spite?” Daisy asked.  “Oh, you mean about that handsome detective who had such a crush on her?  It’s a shame that didn’t work out, but her heart is divided.”

“How did you know about all that?” I asked in surprise.

The dark-haired girl laughed.  “We ghosts talk.  Didn’t you realize?  Some of them are big ole gossips!” Daisy said impishly.  “Detective Dabney Daniels is not the only lawman in Phanny’s heart.”

“Why do I feel like you just pronounced her name slightly differently?” I pondered aloud.vintage queen of the may

“I think that’s part of your gift, Pip — the gift that lets you see spirits.  I doubt that it sounded any different, but you knew that it was spelled differently in my mind,” Daisy explained as I waited in confusion.  “Her name was originally spelled with a ‘Ph’ — it was Phanny, not Fanny.  Didn’t you know that she was a ‘Pip’ too?” Daisy asked.

“You know, it seems like my pops said something about her being another Pip,” I said.

Daisy continued.  “Not wanting to stand out or be different, when people spelled it with an ‘F’ she didn’t correct them,” the spirit told me.

“That does not sound like my grandmother at all,” I said shaking my head.

“She’s much stronger as a person now than when she was a young girl,” Daisy said agreeably.  “But Phanny never liked feeling different.  That’s why she unconsciously shut off her gift of seeing spirits. It made her unique when she desperately wanted to be like everyone else.”

Daisy patted my arm.  Her hand was very cold.  That time the smile reached her eyes.  “Really though, you need to go back.  It’s important that you witness something,” she said vaguely.  “You’ll see,” she commented in answer to the question that was on my face.

With a huge sigh I stood up on the big rock.  The sound of a large splash in the distance 1920s Mermaidencaused me to turn seaward.  I wondered if it was the merman.  Daisy urged me to go back.  I knew I was procrastinating.  I’d have to face Granny Fanny sooner or later.

I was so distraught when I ran away from Granny and the others at the church, when my shoes came off I hadn’t paid any attention.  I had no idea where they were, but I spotted first one and then the other along the beach.  Still dragging my heels about going back and facing everyone, I turned and looked at the big rocks.  Daisy was gone.

Picking up my wet, sand covered shoes I headed back the way I had come.  Or I tried.  I quickly found that the property around the church was a labyrinth of garden paths.  I wandered if frustration.  Finally I spotted the gravel that reminded me of chickpeas, and I knew I must be headed the right way.

“Pip!” someone called and I turned toward the voice.  “Not that way.  What you need is this way,” Daisy appeared and motioned for me to take a different path.

Actually, it was hardly a path at all.  Trail was a more fitting term, and that was generous.  When I started down the narrow trail Daisy vanished again.  Exasperated, I reached out and clutched at the air in the spot where she’d been.  Why couldn’t she ever just tell me something, plain and simple?  Why did there always have to be all that mystery?

After a few more steps I slowed my pace because I heard voices.  I stopped beside some Bonaventure Cemetery - Savannahdwarf palmetto and other palms.  A perfect red rose that reached through the palms hinted that more of the flowers grew beyond my hiding place.  I knew I must be back in the main part of the garden.

I tried to place the voices, but they were only slightly familiar.  Then I recognized the voices of Mattie Maddox and a man.  Ah, that would be the vicar, Vance Varley.  A third voice entered their conversation.  Granny Fanny.  Or should I call her Phanny, I thought in aggravation, but I let that go as unimportant.

The vicar sounded like he was consoling her, telling her not to worry.  “If she’s not back soon, we’ll send a few men out to look for her,” he said and I realized they were talking about me.

I’d be in even more hot water if I caused them to go to any trouble.  So I took a deep breath and got ready to make my presence known.  Then I heard Andy’s voice.  He sounded really agitated.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Andy began but my grandmother rode right over him, putting him in his place.  Andy cleared his throat and started over.  “Mrs. Peabody, it was firmly engrained in me to respect my elders, and not to talk back or interrupt.  And I’m sorry to do just that, but I need to have my say,” he said so firmly that my mouth dropped open.

Could that really be my old pal Andy Avis?  The mild little Astronaute-man who wrote science fiction stories, and jumped if anybody so much as said boo?  I shifted closer, trying Buster Keatonnot to make any noise.

“Pip deserves some consideration here,” Andy began, and after the way he let me down when Granny showed up ranting at me for going to the island without asking her first, I was shocked.  “She — we might have acted rashly, but we had to decide right then and there, if we were going to catch the last ferry.  And in all fairness, Pip did send word to you. She’s not a little child —”

“As long as Paisley is under my roof she’ll live by my rules, or go back to her father!” Granny exclaimed, and I thought that would be the end of it.

However, Andy surprised me by continuing.  “Please, Mrs. Peabody. I will have my say this once,” Andy said making me wonder at how he could be so polite yet so… so… insistent.

He wasn’t going to curry any favor with my grandmother, but my little Astronaute-man didn’t shut up at all.  I grinned ear to ear as I listened.  Who would have thought Andy could be that audacious?  Then my always hungry stomach rumbled when I thought of the other kind of curry.  Andy’s voice got my mind off my empty belly quickly though.

“Besides,” Andy was saying.  “Mrs. Maddox was our chaperone the entire time,” he added on a note of finality.  “I’m sure you don’t mean to cast aspersions on her morals and what she’d allow to go on in her home.”

Oh, I thought, nice one Astronaute-man.  Even Granny fanny couldn’t have manipulated an argument any better than that.  Maybe Andy wasn’t such a wuss after all.  Granted he wasn’t exactly heroic.  I’d always know he wasn’t the hero type; it took a little push for him to go into action during any of the things that happened to the group of us at Santa Rosa Sound and the Ca’d’Zan mansion.Ca d Zan-1

Even so, I never would have thought Andy would sink so low as to just hide behind something, while somebody attacked me verbally — even if it was my grandmother!  I still felt stung and abandoned that nobody stood up for me.  However, at that moment Andy was doing a lot to make amends for his behavior a little earlier that morning.  He stood up to my grandmother, and Granny Fanny in a tirade was enough to scare the pants off any man.

“It’s true,” Mattie confirmed.  “Why they really were the sweetest most well behaved young couple I’ve ever seen.  Why, nobody would have even thought there was anything between them,” she added sounding a bit mystified.

“That’s because we’re only friends,” Andy told her, sounded a tad exasperated.  “There wasn’t going to be any hanky panky in the first place.”

Granny Fanny mumbled something that I couldn’t make out from where I stood.  I movedVintage Pug painting closer and found a spot where I could peep between the palmettos.  My grandmother sat on a garden bench with a large handbag clutched on her lap.  Her fingers tightened on the leather, and she looked very stressed.  At first I thought there was a piece of luggage next to her feet, then I heard whining which told me that the case was a carrier for Wriggles, the little pug dog she was keeping for Arabella Wong.

I was surprised that Granny brought the dog with her, but I supposed she felt like Tybee Island wasn’t part of the mainland and maybe she wouldn’t get home in time to take care of him.  Wriggles barked and Granny started fishing in the huge handbag, eventually producing a leash.  In a moment the pug was sniffing the garden, Mrs. Maddox, and the vicar, and living up to his name with that tail wagging wiggle of his.

A sudden gust of frigid air made me shiver.  To my surprise I saw Daisy sitting on a bench across from Mattie Maddox.  Granny’s eyes widened in shock when the spirit woman suddenly appeared and she clutched the leather bag to her chest.  Andy saw the spirit too and took an involuntary step backward.  Wriggles went over and sniffed her shoes, and Daisy reached down to pet the pug, but she kept her sad, uncertain gaze on Mattie.  After a moment she smiled sweetly.

The spirit’s eyes wandered to the perfect red roses that grew behind the older woman.  Following her gaze I saw that white daisies grew in between the roses.  I realized that the setting was the same one I had seen in some of Mattie’s paintings.

Daisy’s words came back to me, “She said that I was as fine and good as any rose.  Kind Mattie — she knew I never thought as highly of myself as I should.”

“My dear, dear friend,” Daisy murmured looking at Mattie.  “How did you come to be an old woman?  Has it been so long?”

1920s Owl ClockAndy and Granny reacted to her words, but Mattie and Vicar Vance seemed oblivious to Daisy’s presence.  Granny fidgeted with the big purse in her lap.  I knew she wasn’t ready to accept the fact that she could see ghosts, but circumstances were forcing her to see them.  Then she opened the bag and took out that old wooden owl clock.  Maestro Martino bound himself to that clock when his cursed bottle was broken.  It was part of his curse — he had to be bound to an object, and could not be away from it for too awfully long.

But why would my grandmother bring the clock with her?  Yet she did, and moreover she held to it tightly, as if it was some sort of protection.  I was so intrigued by the scene playing out before me that I didn’t realize I was walking out into the open, making myself part of it.

Granny Fanny looked at me, and her eyes lit with happiness. However, the joy quickly flashed to pain, and then to anger.  I drew back, wishing I was still behind the dwarf palmettos.  No one spoke and it was uncomfortably quiet.  Daisy patted the bench beside her, and I gathered my courage and walked past my grandmother to sit beside my ghostly friend.

A pop-fizz sound broke the silence.  Maestro Martino appeared.  He was wearing his usual chef’s garb.  Wriggles started barking furiously at him.  Unlike Daisy, and I assumed most other spirits, Maestro Martino’s presence was so powerful that anyone could see him.  Of course, that was provided he actually wanted to be seen.

I was blocking their line of sight, plus the barking of the little dog distracted the vicar and Mrs. Maddox enough that they didn’t realize that Maestro had not walked into the garden inVintage Rose German Cologne the ordinary way.  He really had simply appeared out of thin air.  Maestro hurriedly took off the tall chef’s hat and hid it behind his back.  Remarkably, the pug quieted and sniffed his odd Renaissance era boots.

I had thought the dog was afraid of the ghost chef, but then I realized Wriggles was afraid of the hat, not the spirit.  Maestro was mischievous enough that he plopped the hat back onto his head for a moment and made a funny face.  The pug started barking again.  The poltergeist grinned and tucked the hat into his jacket.  Wriggles looked up at him, yapped once, and then wagged his curly tail.  His little black face looked like it was smiling.

Vicar Vance apologized and introduced himself and Mattie Maddox to the newcomer.  “I didn’t see you come up, sir.  Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

“This is…” Granny hesitated.  “This is Mr. Martino.  He was kind enough to escort me today on short notice,” she said somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh! It was you who radioed about the ferry being in trouble!” Vicar Varley cried.  “You have my heartfelt thanks, Mr. Martino.  I can’t tell you how helpful that was.  Some of those people might have succumbed to hypothermia if we had not been ready for them. But thanks to you we had everything in place when the boat limped to the dock.  I can tell you it was quite a scene on the beach last night.”

Maestro looked pleased but slightly embarrassed. He insisted that it was nothing, and started speaking Italian.  Since his English was perfect, if accented, I thought he must have done that to throw off the vicar — to keep him from asking unwanted questions.

Dormedary Coconut ad“Oh Signora, Che fortuna!” Maestro cried and pointed toward a palm tree that was different from the ones surrounding it.  “How fortunate, no?  It is a coconut palm.  Perhaps we could get the coconut milk for your special fruit cake recipe?”

“We don’t need to bother anyone with that right now, Maestr… I mean Mr. Martino,” she stammered.

I was amazed that Granny had helped the ghost come to the island.  She was still furious that Andy and I had unknowingly brought him into her kitchen in the first place.  Granny Fanny and the poltergeist argued more often than they spoke civilly.  Yet she backed up so that she stood closer to Martino than she did to the living people.

She didn’t get any closer to Daisy though.  Granny looked at the ghost woman suspiciously.  I supposed that Granny had grown accustomed to Maestro Martino.  And as he said himself, he was one powerful poltergeist!  Did she feel the need for protection?  But why?

My grandmother glanced at me, and I saw worry and sadness in her eyes.  Could she really have been so afraid for me that she took comfort in knowing someone powerful like Maestro was at her side?  Had an imagined need to rescue or protect me been stronger than her fear and distrust of the supernatural?  I suddenly felt like a heel for causing her to worry.

Meraviglioso,” he murmured and cast a meaningful look at Granny Fanny.  Maestro held the look for a bit longer than it seemed to me like he should have.  It wasn’t just a look.  It Vintage kitchen bouquet adwas an adoring gaze.  Then I knew he was up to something.  The exaggerated look of longing was an act, despite the fact that the spirit really was attracted to my grandmother.

The vicar and Mattie both noticed the way he was looking at Granny.  She blushed and looked away, clearing her throat.  Mattie gave an unexpected smile at Maestro’s behavior.  She leaned toward the vicar and whispered something about people in love being so sweet at any age.

I wasn’t sure if my grandmother heard what Mattie said, but she shot a glare at Maestro.  Then the flirty ghost bowed over Mattie Maddox’s hand in his courtly way.  He whispered something in Italian and the old gal actually giggled like a school girl.  I had to admit, the Maestro had a way about him.  He said something else to her in that accent of his.  It was English that time, but I didn’t catch what he said.  However, Mattie blushed and tittered.

When Mattie caught her breath, she looked at my grandmother.  “And you were worried about these two young people… but you set sail, so to speak, with this handsome rake!” Mattie chided playfully.  “Oh, now… I was only joking, dear.  No offense intended,” the older woman said when Granny’s glare transferred to her.

Maestro Martino laughed a bit too loudly.  He was still up to whatever it was.  “Sì, is it as you say, the pot calling the kettle black?” he exclaimed and then laughed again, but gave Granny 1920s two women gardenan adoring little tweak on the cheek.

Granny looked astonished, not just at Maestro, but at what Mattie said.  After a moment she shook her head ruefully.  “I guess you have a point, Mrs. Maddox,” she said, but I knew my grandmother too well to feel relieved that fast.

“Now please, you call me Mattie,” the other woman said warmly.

I wondered what Maestro had said to Mattie.  I couldn’t imagine what it was, but it seemed to have started things in the right direction.  Between Mattie and Maestro, maybe Granny Fanny would calm down enough that she’d give up the idea of sending me home to Florida.

Or maybe the antics of the little dog would distract her enough, I thought as I watched Wriggles wrap his leash around and around a bench leg.  When he ran out of lead, he started to whine and pull at the confining mess he’d made for himself.  However, no one was paying much attention to him.

Just as I noticed that Daisy had disappeared, I saw that a rose and a white daisy were at Mattie’s feet.  She wore a bemused expression as she leaned down to pick them up from the pavement.  The woman looked at Granny rather than me when she spoke.

“You know, when I was young I had a friend, a best friend… Pip reminds me of her.  She was so headstrong and intelligent, and so vital.  But she didn’t think as well of herself as she 1917 Vogueshould have,” Mattie said.  “I hope your granddaughter realizes how special and valuable she is,” she added looking at me from the corner of her eye and giving a little nod.

“I’d love to hear about her, your friend,” I cut into the conversation, causing Granny to raise an eyebrow at me.

“It was so long ago now, but I’ve never forgotten,” Mattie Maddox spoke in a soft voice as her memory stretched back over decades.  “Oh, she was a strong young woman, but just as sweet as she was strong.  I couldn’t imagine how anyone could fail to love her, but there were plenty of people who resented her.  King Henry though, that’s what they called Mr. Kingston senior, he worshiped the ground she walked on.”

Vicar Vance Varley at first gave Mattie a quizzical glance.  Then the look on his face shifted to worry and fear.  “Miss Mattie—”

“She?” Granny prompted, obviously curious despite the situation.

“Mr. Kingston’s second wife, Daisy,” Mattie said.  “I was her personal maid, but she always said I was her best friend.  She certainly was mine, but I always felt I didn’t do enough…” Mattie said but her words trailed away with her thoughts.

“I didn’t realize it at the time, but at the end, I think she thought King Henry had left her,” Mattie went on.  “She was so badly off by then, I think time was passing differently for her.  Daisy didn’t understand everything that was happening then as she drifted in and out of 1920s faceconsciousness.  Her husband wasn’t at her side every minute.  To be honest, I thought he should have been there more, but he was beside her more than many men would have been,” she said in a reasoning tone.

“He arranged for an important doctor to come to Savannah and take a look at her.  King Henry left on the ferry to pick up the doctor at Union Station.  I think the hours must have felt like days to Daisy, and she thought he’d left her.  She passed before he even got to Savannah.

“Miss Mattie,” the vicar interrupted.  “What you’ve told me in confidence… It might not be wise to disclose to strangers,” he said sounding very agitated.

Mattie sighed and smiled a small smile.  It reminded me of Daisy’s sad smile, and I wondered if they shared that expression because they had been so close.  “Vance, I’m an old woman.  I’m not worried about that.  And I’m not going to look over my shoulder anymore,” Mattie said flatly and my curiosity rose at her affirming tone.Stained Glass 2

Though I was mesmerized by the odd exchange between Mattie and Vicar Vance, it registered with me that something in my surroundings had changed.  Something was missing.  It was quiet.

I glanced at the bench where I last saw Wriggles pulling at his leash.  The collar was there, but the dog was gone.  Granny followed my gaze.

“Oh great heavens!  Where is that doggone dog?” she exclaimed.  “I have to find him. I said I’d take care of him,” she said and hurried down what was probably a random garden path.

Everyone followed Granny.  I heard barking up ahead.  Even before I could see the building I saw the bright golden glow.  My feet squished uncomfortably inside my wet shoes as I hurried along the paved path.  The barking grew louder and then I rounded a curve where huge shell pink camellias grew extraordinarily tall.  The path opened onto the beautiful stained glass window, the one Daisy showed Andy and me back at the abandoned warehouse, the same one Mattie Maddox had in her paintings.

The golden and aqua light reflected in the glass was impossibly bright.  I knew it had some supernatural help.  It cast a golden glow over the red roses that grew before it.  I heard alphonse mucha 1Mattie gasp.  Vicar Varley clasped his hands prayerfully before his chest and murmured something about God.  Wriggles stood barking at the window.  With every bark his little body scooted backward a few inches.

Daisy, looking even more ethereally beautiful than I’d ever seen her walked toward us from the window.  She gave me that little smile that rarely reached her eyes.

“You are so close Pip.  I can feel it,” Daisy said.

Mattie Maddox crumpled to the ground.

***

Recipe:  Curry Mushroom Toast – Cooking Club 1908

Adapted from: Cooking Club Magazine, February 1908

1908 Cooking Club Curry Mushroom Toast

Recipe and Photo Credit:  Tori Avey at History Kitchen http://toriavey.com/history-kitchen/2014/02/curry-mushroom-toast-cooking-club-1908/

Please visit Tori’s great blog for step by step instructions and photos, as well as a terrific post.

Ingredients

1 baguette, cut into 12 slices

1 lb button mushrooms, cleaned and sliced

1 1/2 cups vegetable stock

3 tbsp olive oil, divided

1 1/2 tsp curry powder (or more to taste)

2 tsp flour

1/2 cup heavy cream

Salt and black pepper

Yields 6 servings

Directions

Preheat oven to 200 degrees F.

Heat 2 tbsp of olive oil in the bottom of a nonstick skillet over medium high heat. Add the sliced bread and toast for 2-3 minutes, or until golden brown.

Transfer the toast to a baking sheet and place in the oven at 200 degrees F to keep warm.

Add remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the skillet and add about 1/2 of the sliced mushrooms. Cook until brown, about 8-10 minutes. Then add remaining mushrooms and continue cooking for an additional 5-7 minutes.

Sprinkle curry and flour over the mushrooms and stir to evenly coat.

Add vegetable stock to the pan and stir to combine. Cook until the liquid thickens and is reduced by half.

Reduce heat to medium and add cream. Cook until thickened. Stir in salt and black pepper to taste (I used about 1/2 tsp of salt and a pinch of black pepper– your amount may vary based on the saltiness of your stock). Remove from heat.

To serve, place 2 slices of toast on a plate and spoon the curry mushroom sauce over the top. Sprinkle with chopped fresh parsley if desired.

 ***

Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Three Ingredients II – 6: Turnips, Onions, Sauerkraut

Casper cookingWelcome back everyone! I’m pleased to tell you that today’s ingredients were sent by a reader who hasn’t always been with us here at Teagan’s Books — Jo Robinson.

Jo lives in beautiful South Africa, and has written quite a remarkable collection of stories.  She has a wonderful imagination.  For instance in her novel “The Shadow People, The Finding” characters are hurled across time and space, and find themselves on Lapillus, a beautiful world made up of precious gems.  (If you had any idea what a self-proclaimed “rock geek” I am, you’d understand that is a huge attraction. I have such a thing for semiprecious gems…)

Jo says all creatures feathered and furred inspire her writing, so I’m curious to know which of the “critters” in our serial she likes best.

Jo Robinson bk

This week’s ingredients have remarkable health benefits.  I never knew that about sauerkraut!  Another reader, Sally at “Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life,” told me she recommends onions (among many other vegetables) for their healthfulness in her book on nutrition and emotional health. Check out Sally’s nutrition book, “Turning Back the Clock.”

Episode 6Maybe I need a nice “dose” of sauerkraut myself — to energize me. But on with our “interactive” serial instead! Without further lament, here is Episode-6.  Bon appétit!

6.  Turnips, Onions, Sauerkraut

A scent of mint was on the breeze and I inhaled with pleasure.  I sat on the ground in Granny Fanny’s garden wiping dirt from a turnip and an interesting idea popped into my head.  “I wonder how turnips would taste cooked with some mint,” I pondered aloud.Vintage rabbit driving

Cinnamon Bun, Granny’s Flemish Giant rabbit, looked at me quizzically and twitched his dirty nose.  I could have offered the huge bunny a turnip, but he clearly enjoyed digging up his own.  Just as we both went back to the dirt, a loud noise cracked the air.  I jumped half out of my skin, and Cinnamon Bun dashed to the security of his hutch.

The loud sound was followed by the beep-beep or a horn.  I looked down toward the road and saw a Dodge Roadster.  It wasn’t new.  I guessed it was about a 1921 model.  It was a black two-seater with a tan rag-top and tan spoke wheels.  The automobile was not familiar to me.  However, it pulled into Granny’s driveway.  A moment later Andy Avis jumped out and hurried to the back yard, where I sat in the vegetable garden.

I shook my head and chuckled to myself.  It seemed like every automobile Andy ever drove backfired like that.

“What do you think?” Andy asked motioning to the Dodge.

“It’s the berries,” I told him, because it really was a cute little vehicle.  “What happened to your Studebaker?” I voiced my thought.1921 Dodge Raodster

“Oh, it wasn’t worth the cost of shipping it to Hollywood, so I had to let her go,” he said with a touch of regret in his voice.  “Garth Gilley, down at the garage, let me rent this roadster from him.  If I knew more about how long I was going to be in town, I’d just buy it,” he said and I chuckled.  “Yes, Pip. I’ve already succumbed to the charms of a new vehicle, before the dust of the Studebaker has even settled,” he said, taking off his hat and placing it over his heart in pretend drama.

Garth,owned Gilley’s Garage.  Garth’s brother Godfrey owned Gilley’s Grocery where my grandmother and I bought much of our food.  Godfrey was attentive to Granny Fanny’s preferences for just the right produce, and Garth handled her Model-T with kid gloves.  They were good people, the Gilleys.

I took my basket of turnips, and on impulse plucked some fresh mint.  Andy followed me to the side of the cottage, that’s where the water pump was.  Always thoughtful, Andy got the water going and I rinsed off the vegetables and cleaned my hands.

Vintage Water PumpThe pump was near the open kitchen window.  An unexpected sound caused me to be immediately concerned.  Andy asked me if I needed any more water, and I shushed him.  Then I apologized in a whisper and motioned to the window.  Had I heard sobbing?  Granny was the only one inside the cottage.  Or was she?

I strained to hear, but Wriggles the pug was whining at Cinnamon Bun’s hutch, trying to get him to come outside.  I didn’t worry about Cinnamon with the dog, because the rabbit was much larger.  Besides, they seemed to be friendly with each other.  They weren’t making much noise, but it was enough to prevent me hearing what was happening inside the cottage.

Yes, yes… I know I shouldn’t listen that way, but I felt awfully protective of my grandmother.  Suddenly I heard a consoling voice.  A male voice.  Quietly I moved to the house and stood below the kitchen window.  Andy was right behind me.

“Holy Hannah,” Andy whispered.  “It can’t be.”

I scrunched up my face and gave Andy a look because he wasn’t making any sense.  Then the voices became louder.  The man had an accent.  Applesauce!

“No, no, no bella.  A flower like you should not cry.  Dry your tears and tell the Maestro all about it.  This will make you feel better, no?” the ghost chef consoled my grandmother — and she let him, despite the fact that she kicked his posterior into the refrigerator and slammed shut the door the first time she saw him..

My jaw dropped open.  I heard Granny mumble something about onions.man_ray_tears

“No, no, Luce dei Miei Occhi!  Light of my eyes, you do not fool the Maestro.  These tears are not from the onion.  Someone has broken your heart, I can see it.”

Suddenly the sobbing grew louder.  Poor Granny!  She was bawling her eyes out.  I moved to go inside and make sure she was okay.  However, Andy held me back.

“Actually Pip… the ghost seems to be doing a good job of comforting her.  There might be things that she needs to get off her chest that she wouldn’t necessarily want to tell her granddaughter,” my friend whispered.

I had to admit that Andy had a point.  My thoughts went to the big shindig where we had cornered the gang of bootleggers, and moments before I had accidentally found Dabney Daniels and Granny in a passionate kiss.  Granny had rejected him because she1920s Arrow couple couldn’t accept being older than the handsome detective.  I figured she was probably no more than a dozen years his senior, and I couldn’t understand why she let that bother her.  But it did, and it was her choice, so I didn’t try to convince her otherwise.  Anyhow, when you consider Granny’s mixed feelings for Detective Dabney Daniels, maybe the ghost was right.  Maybe her heart was breaking.

I heard indistinguishable words in between sobs.  Then finally she spoke clearly.  “I don’t know if it was the right thing for me, but it had to be the right thing for him.  It just had to be.  A beautiful man, still in his prime shouldn’t be saddled with an old woman,” she said, though Maestro Martino protested.  “But just because I turned him down — it didn’t mean I wanted him to move halfway up the east coast!” she cried.  “And I surely didn’t want him to run off and do something so dangerous!” she wailed.

In between a lot of blubbering we learned that Dabney Daniels went to Washington DC to become part of a special taskforce.  Granny also felt a little betrayed, because her old friend, Federal Marshal, Moses Myrick gave Daniels a glowing recommendation for the new position.

“So he’s gone for training with the U.S. Marshal’s Service Fugitive Taskforce.  That’s even more dangerous than his work as a police detective.  If anything happens to Dabney I’ll never forgive myself,” Granny sobbed.  “It’s my fault.  I pushed him into it by rejecting his romantic advances.”

Martino continued to console Granny Fanny.  Once she seemed calmer, Andy and I went to the back porch and inside the cottage.  As I opened the kitchen door I heard Kitchen Maid adbustling sounds.  To my surprise, it wasn’t Granny moving around her kitchen.  It was Maestro in his white chef’s apron and hat, along with those odd looking Renaissance era boots.  His back was to us, but he appeared to be making tea and a snack.

I couldn’t believe Granny would sit still for the ghost to be cooking in her kitchen — not after the way she had acted the first time she saw him.  I supposed that was testament to how distraught she was.  I also didn’t know what to expect the ghost chef to do when he saw us.  I thought maybe he’d wink out, disappear; whatever you’d call it.

“Ah! Signorina o Signore please do make yourselves comfortable.  The Maestro, he will soon have prepared something nice to make everyone feel better, no?” the spirit said.

Granny avoided looking at us.  I knew she didn’t want me or Andy to see her tear stained face.  She excused herself and went to wash her face.  She gave a sidelong, annoyed glance to Maestro for daring to do anything in her kitchen, but she hurried out of the room without saying anything else.

Maestro Martino turned to watch her retreating form as she went down the hall.  He was humming a tune that I recognized for a madrigal, It Was a Lover and His Lass.  So intent was the ghost on watching my grandmother’s backside that he overfilled a teacup and didn’t notice, even when the liquid spilled over the countertop to the blue and white tile floor.

It Was a Lover and His Lass – Highland High School Madrigal singers 20131215

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qTvcDjOrA9A

I cleared my throat loudly and then got a dishtowel and mopped up the mess.  The Maestro acted as if nothing had happened.  He served tea and sat down at the kitchen table to join Andy and me.  There was something different about his face.  I looked at him closely.  The corner of his lower lip was swollen and inflamed.  He seemed to sip his tea very carefully.

It was puzzling to me… after all, he was a ghost.  “Maestro, is everything okay,” I said pointing to the corner of my own mouth to show what I meant.

He sighed unhappily.  “No, Signorina.  It is only …” he paused, searching for the correct term.  “It is only a canker sore, I think you call it,” he said sardonically.

“Oh, that can be miserable,” I said sympathetically.

I moved to the refrigerator.  I took out a dish of sauerkraut and got a fork from the drawer.  “Here.  Get a wad of kraut Sauerkraut adand put it against the mouth ulcer for a minute or two.  Then chew it up and swallow it,” I instructed him in the same remedy Granny had
given others in the past.  “It works, I promise.”

He did as I said.  After a moment he chewed and gulped, then washed down the sauerkraut with his tea.  Andy looked at the ghost chef with a speculative expression on his face that probably matched my own.  My friend seemed to weigh a couple of options and then discard them.  Finally Andy cleared his throat and questioned Maestro Martino.

“Pardon me, but how can a ghost have a canker sore?” he asked what might have been an impertinent question as politely as he could.

“Ah Signore,” Maestro began and shook his head remorsefully.  “When first I met you two lovely young people, I told you of my predicament.  Through no fault of my own, I pissed off the Pope and in short the point of the parable is now I am a poltergeist,” he said and waited for us to confirm that we remembered.  “Perhaps I postponed providing the piece where my predicament also presents another problem,” he said looking embarrassed.

Had the spirit really used that many Ps?  I blinked and gave my head a shake to make sure I was keeping up with him.

Vintage kitchen bouquet ad“Well, part of the predicament is…” he paused and winced as apparently the ulcer pained him when he moved his mouth a certain way.  “Whenever I lust after a beautiful woman… I get the canker sore.”

Andy chortled and I gave his ankle a little kick under the table, and told him he was being insensitive.  However, Andy just laughed again.  “Pip, don’t you realize?” he asked, though I didn’t understand what he meant.  “The beautiful woman he was lusting after was your grandmother,” he said as he leaned his chair backward and
 rocked it on two legs while he chuckled at me.

My eyes popped open wide as I looked at Maestro Martino accusingly.  The ghost looked down at his teacup and nodded penitently.  I got up but I didn’t know what to do with myself.  When I rested my hand on the countertop it landed on the dishtowel, sopping wet with tea.  I threw the towel at Maestro’s face.

The ghost immediately became transparent, and the wet towel went right through him.  It plopped wetly across Andy’s face.  Apparently I threw it pretty hard.  Andy was still leaning his chair back on two legs, and he toppled over when the wet towel landed, covering his face.Lon-Chaney_London_after_Midnight poster

When Andy sat up, wet white towel still covering his face, he looked like a ghost out
of a Lon Chaney movie.  I made a comment to that effect, and Andy proceeded to make monster-like motions and chase me around the cottage, with the towel still covering his face.  It was amazing that he didn’t run into more furniture than he did.

Wriggles the pug’s sensitive ears picked up the excited noises of play and he barreled into the game.  The little dog barked as he chased behind Andy.  I ran into the parlor and both of them followed.  Granny Fanny must have been “on a mission” to learn something again, because there were several stacks of newspapers and other periodicals from the library around the room.

Unable to see very much, Andy stumbled over a stack of newspapers.  Our laughter subsided, but Wriggles hadn’t given up the game.  The pug bounced around on the strewn papers and in a moment the entire floor was covered.  Andy and I set about collecting the pages and putting them back into the right order.

I noticed that they were very old issues of the Savannah Tribune, from before I wasVintage Pug even born.  Andy was on his hands and knees trying to get newspapers away from the dog without tearing them.  Something caught his eye, and he shifted from his knees to a sitting position to read a page.  He scratched his head and made a humpf sound that I’d often heard him make when he was thinking about an idea for one of his science fiction stories.

“What is it?” I asked.

“This name is familiar, but I don’t know why.  It’s an announcement article about a local boy rising up in the organization of the Church here,” Andy said as he continued to browse the write-up.  “Two brothers had been on scholarships to some hoity-toity business university, but during summer break, back home in Savannah, one of them suddenly joined the priesthood.”

“Do you mean the Binghamtons?” I asked

“Yepper,” he said and then smacked his palm against the polished oak floor with a loud smack that started the pug barking.

I shushed the dog by scratching his back.  Wriggles lived up to his name.  That little dog loved getting his back scratched.  He stuck out his tongue to lick his little pugged nose and wagged his tail until I thought he’d tip over.

Andy continued. “Now I remember where I’ve seen that name.  I saw it when I was researching the ownership history of the abandoned factory Manny Mayer had me buy for him.  I don’t remember the first name, except that it started with a ‘B’ but the surname was Binghamton for sure,” he said.

I remembered the old photograph I had seen at the Kingston mansion during the big shindig. It seemed like Daisy wanted me to see something in it.  I remembered it clearly.  I saw Daisy step through the broad French doors.  She went to a large framed photograph and placed her hand on it.  She nodded to 1917 Vogueme.  I knew there was information in that photograph. But then Daisy vanished.

He handed me the yellowed page.  It had a much smaller version of the same old photograph.  However this one had the surnames of the men listed under it.  Sure enough, one of them was Binghamton.  The image was so small, that it was hard to tell if one of them was a much younger version of the man who was now a bishop.

Looking closely, I realized there were two men who were thinner than the others.  The bishop was a very slight man.  So those must be the Binghamton brothers.  However, I couldn’t make out much about their faces from the old newsprint image.

Andy and I sat back and looked at each other.  One of the Binghamtons had owned the factory where Daisy the ghost girl said something happened to her.  It was something so horrible that she blocked it out of her living memory and she was afraid to go inside the place even as a ghost.

“We need to make tracks back to that factory and look around,” I said.

***

How to Preserve Onions

Next time, Barbeque Sauce, Baby Bok Choy, Aluminium Foil

 

Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Cookbook-2 Begins! Cherries, Mascarpone, Marsala

Cat_menu_Episode-1Hello and welcome back!

I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve been patient during the past couple of weeks, while I got ready for Cookbook-2 of our Three Ingredients Serial.  

The first set of “ingredients” for Cookbook-2 came from Evelyne Holingue. I guess they’re leftovers,  because I’ve been hanging onto them.  Evelyne sent them just before the first Three Ingredients Serial concluded.  Thank you, Evelyne for being patient while I got around to using them.

The first time I visited Evelyne’s blog I was amazed by how much I feel she has accomplished.  The blog is charming and includes posts in English and French.  There are also links to some National Public Radio (NPR) recordings of her lovely voice as she reads her stories.  (Yes, Americans are always charmed by accents, but hers really is lovely.) You will also find information about her books, including Trapped in Paris.

I can’t promise to dive right in for immediate shenanigans and chaos. Sometimes it1920s face
takes a bit of writing for the ingredients to lead the story, but I hope to entertain you just the same.

The cupboards are bare — so leave a comment with your three food-related ingredients.  

As before, I’m determined to let your “ingredients” drive the story.  I considered moving this story several years forward… but that was just what I wanted to do.  When I sat down with the ingredients, “Marsala” had other ideas.  So Cookbook-2 picks up about a month after the previous story.  It also brings back an old friend from The Three Things serial. (And watch out for that Marsala. Wink.)

Bon appétit!

1.  Cherries, Mascarpone, Marsala

Lucille Ball teenaged 1The pile of pits grew steadily as I worked.  My thoughts were a million miles away so I did the task absently.  But I wasn’t so preoccupied that I didn’t pop one of the dark ripe cherries into my mouth now and then.

It had been a month since the spirit of Daisy, the dainty dish, asked me for help.  She wanted me to find out who killed her.  However, I was no closer to solving that mystery than I had been the night she made the request.  Daisy helped me get incriminating evidence against the murderous gangsters, but she asked for my assistance in return.

I sighed and ate another cherry.

I had not seen Daisy again since that night.  Despite her claim that both Granny Fanny and I could see spirits, I hadn’t seen her or any other ghost.  I was actually relieved about that part.  However, I was very frustrated at not finding any new information about Daisy or her death.  I didn’t see how I was going to be able to do anything helpful.  The idea of not keeping the promise I made to her irked me.1920s Owl Clock

Occasionally I looked up at the clock on the counter.  I didn’t want to be late.  I wondered where my grandmother had gotten that unusual clock.  It was set into a hand carved wooden owl.  It took a while for the clock to grow on me, but I decided that I liked it.  When the owl chimed fifteen minutes past the hour, I got up and washed my hands, popping one last cherry into my mouth.

As if on cue, Granny came into the kitchen.  She began mixing milk, coffee, and mascarpone cheese, humming an old song as she worked.

“If the train is on time, you and your friend are welcome to have a snack with us.  Arabella’s cousin might come with her, but I expect it will just be Arabella and me,” Granny said.

Arabella Wong’s family came to the United States from England.  (It was many generations since that branch of their family had been in Hong Kong.)  So tea was customary with the Wongs.  It was something Granny enjoyed too.

1920s RefrigeratorEver the generous and flexible hostess, Granny wouldn’t mind if I brought half the people on the train, or if Arabella brought her family and everybody who worked at Wong’s Chinese, for that matter.  The friendship between Granny and Arabella Wong
had grown since the night of the big shindig Granny catered.  The two women, without guns or knives, fought back Queenie Wetson’s henchmen long enough for Detective Daniels and the mysterious Mr. Farceur to move into action.

“Is it okay if I play that by ear, Granny?” I asked.

“Of course, Sweet Pea.  I know you young people have a lot of catching up to do,” she said amiably.

Excited yapping preceded the sound of a knock at the front door.  Granny didn’t seem surprised, but I wasn’t expecting to hear a dog.  I followed her to the door and greeted Arabella.  She had brought a little pug dog.  Its curled tail wagged merrily.

“Where did you come from?” I said as I stooped to scratch the dog’s back.

“I haven’t had him long.  This is Wriggles,” Arabella said and the little dog wagged his tail so hard that his entire back half wagged along with it.Vintage Pug

Granny laughed.  “I can see how he got his name.  It’s too bad he didn’t get to be in the pet parade,” she said, referring to part of the aforementioned party.

“Oh no, he gets into things. You know how puppies are, and Wriggles is only six months old.  There’s no telling what trouble he would have caused at a posh party like that,” she said, but then she put her hand to her mouth and giggled.

Arabella was right. The pet parade had turned into utter chaos, so we all laughed.  “But I suppose he would have fit right in with the other pets,” she added.  “Anyway, there wasn’t anyone at home today, and I didn’t want to leave him alone.  So thank you Fanny, for letting me bring him with me.”

A moment later I was on my way to Union Station.  To my delight, Granny let me use her yellow automobile.  It was as old as the hills, but she kept it in pristine condition.

When I reached the station I realized the train arrived early.  I looked all around for a familiar face.  Finally I saw a man standing at the courtesy desk, talking animatedly on the telephone.  I’d know him anywhere.  I moved up behind him and stayed quiet while he finished his conversation.  He hadn’t heard me sneak up on him.  After a moment he hung up the phone.

Union Station, Savannah, GA

Union Station, Savannah, GA

“Andy, look at you puttin’ on the Ritz!” I said, causing him to jump and turn around.

“Pip!  You’re the cat’s pajamas for picking me up.  It’s great to see you,” Andy Avis exclaimed.

Back where I lived in the same building with my group of friends in Florida, I had nicknamed Andy the Astronaute-man because he wrote science fiction type stories.  You know, like H. G. Wells or Jules Verne.  Thanks to John Ringling, Andy made connections out in Hollywood, California and sold one of his screenplays.  He had been living out there ever since.  Based on the nice suit of clothes he wore, Andy was doing Buster Keatonpretty well for himself in Hollywood.

“Mona wrote to say she was going to Hollywood for that short film thing you got started back at Ca’d’Zan.  So I was surprised you would leave,” I said, trying not to let speculation show on my face.

My shy little Astronaute-man had always carried a torch for our beautiful friend Mona, but she didn’t return his feelings.  I knew he took it hard when she developed a really serious interest in our other friend, Boris.  Andy blushed and looked down.  I figured he was still hurting from that.

“Actually, that was one reason why I took this trip.  It kind of smarts to see Mona.  But she was looking great, as always.  Said to give you a big hug for her,” he said and followed Mona’s instruction.

Andy wasn’t much taller than me, so he had to bend back some to get my feet off the 1920s Friends at Beachground in a big bear hug.  We both laughed.  It was the bee’s knees to see Andy again.  Yes, I had been missing my little group of friends.  But I didn’t realize just how terribly I missed them until that moment.  I brushed a tear away while Andy wasn’t looking.

“One of the executives at the studio, Manny Mayer, he knows I’m from Florida, and he figured that wasn’t much different from Savannah,” Andy said and rolled his eyes.  “The guy needs to brush up on his geography… But I remembered you were here.  So anyway, I’m here for a couple of reasons,” he chattered away.

I chuckled to myself about the executive.  From then on, I’d think of him as Manny Mayer the Movie Maker.  After all, it went along with the other nicknames I’d given folks, Andy the Astronaute-man, Boris the Ballerina, and Frankie the Fireman.  Frankie — I didn’t want to think about him any more than Andy wanted to think about Mona.  Wishing my thoughts had not gone there, I turned my full attention back to Andy.

“So Manny asked if I could look at an abandoned factory he’s thinking of buying here.  He even gave me power of attorney to buy it, if I think it’s decent.  So I’m hoping we
can go take a look at it,” he said with an imploring expression.

“Sure thing,” I told him.  “Want to go check it out right now?” I asked and he agreed wholeheartedly.1914_Ford_Model_T_Speedster

“But here’s the fun part,” Andy said in a conspiratorial tone and wriggled his eyebrows playfully.  “The building predates the Civil War.  I looked into it before I ever left Hollywood.  It was a stop, a sort of hideout for blockade runners back then!” Andy said excitedly.  “There’s no telling what kind of stuff we might find in there — Naturally I told Manny about all that.  I wouldn’t swindle anybody.  He laughed and told me if I found anything I wanted that it was mine.”

I got caught up in Andy’s enthusiasm and grinned at him.  “That was a long time ago,” I said gently, not wanting to disappoint him.  “It’s probably been ransacked of anything good years ago.”

Maybe not…” he said in a meaningful tone.  “It’s supposed to be haunted!

Well, I can tell you… that was one spooky old building.  There was no wonder it had a abandoned factoryreputation for being haunted.  With all the cobwebs and the thick coat of dust that covered everything, it was hard to tell much about what was inside the old factory.

So Andy set about business first, and went over the big old place from top to bottom, making sure it was still solid, at least for the most part.  He said that it fit within the guidelines Manny Mayer gave him, so afterward went into town and took care of the paperwork.  Mr. Mayer was the proud owner of an abandoned Civil War era factory.

We decided to come back with flashlights the next day, so we could get a better look at things.  However, there was one storeroom where part of the floor above it had fallen in.  Under the debris we spotted some old crates that turned out to be filled with bottles of Italian wine.  The crates were heavy, but the two of us managed to get them to Granny’s automobile.

I told Andy that he could store them at Granny’s for the time being.  Granny Fanny also offered the guest room to him.  So we headed back to the cottage.

When we got there I found a note from my grandmother saying that she would be spending the evening with her ladies group.  She also left fried chicken, hush puppies, and coleslaw. “Incase Andy decided to stay,” the note said.  Based on the amount of Back porchfood, she must have been pretty sure he would stick around.  Andy’s expression when he saw all that home-cooked food was enough to confirm he was at least going to stay for dinner.

We had left the crates of wine on the cottage’s wraparound porch, beside the kitchen door.  All the crates looked old, but one of them was even older than the rest. We had to move it very carefully because it was about to fall apart.  Andy opened the crate and pulled out a remarkably ornate bottle.

Marsala!  I guess we should have white wine with chicken, but I won’t stand on formality.  Will you?” he asked with a wink.  Then looking more serious he warned, “It might be spoiled.  I can’t make out the date, but this must be plenty old.”

Andy dusted off the label.  We could make out a vineyard name, and Italy, and other words that told us it was in fact wine, but the date was not readable.  The bottle was so dirty that I insisted on washing it before we opened it.  I took a damp cloth and carefully cleaned every curve and crevice of the lovely old bottle.  Some of the designs were amazingly intricate.  This was going to be a very special bottle of wine, I was absolutely certain!

1922 Cherry RocherI didn’t realize that I was humming as I worked until Andy asked me what I as singing.  Suddenly puzzled, I stopped because I had no idea what the song was.  It was a tune I wasn’t even aware of knowing.  I hummed it louder for Andy, but he didn’t recognize it either.  I shrugged it off.  Obviously I must have heard the tune somewhere.
Turning the bottle this way and that, I admired my handiwork, as well as the beautiful design.  Only then did I notice that the top of the bottle’s neck was shaped like a skull with two swords beneath it.  I made a face and showed Andy.

“You don’t think that means it’s poison do you?” he asked.  “I’m sure the label doesn’t say that. And the seal hasn’t been broken.”

I had really been excited about that gorgeous bottle of wine.  I didn’t want to think it was anything other than what the label said.

“Wait.  For poison they use a skull and crossbones.  Those things look like swords — not bones.  Isn’t that the pirate symbol?” I commented and Andy nodded and grinned.

“Maybe that means it really is a pirate’s bottle!” he offered.  “This wine could have been made before the Civil War.  Or even before that.  It could date back to the American Revolution — or who knows how far!”

I handed Andy the corkscrew and told him to do the honors.  However, the cork was stubborn.  Finally I held the bottle with both hands, while he removed the cork.  It came loose with a reverberating pop, which I felt inside my teeth and eardrums.  The harmonic sound shifted into the melody I was humming a moment before.

“Holy Hannah,” Andy commented quietly.Skull Ghost Bottle

For a moment I thought the bottle must have been mislabeled. I thought it must contain Champagne rather than marsala.  A sort of fizzy purple vapor filled the air, expanding wider and taller.  I started waving a napkin, trying to clear the air.  Then I sneezed.  It was a big bend your neck, eye-squinting, bless-you-and-everybody-around-you sneeze.  Like I said, the vapor was weirdly fizzy.

I was about to make a smart-alecky remark to Andy about the fact that he didn’t say “Bless you.”  But as I raised my head and opened my eyes I saw a man standing where the vapors had been.  He wore a white apron, but his clothes were from an era long past.  When I looked closely, I realized that he wasn’t particularly… well… solid.

He bowed quite formally.  “At your service, Signorina,” the ghost said.

***

Recipe:  Coffee Milk Mascarpone

Coffee Mascarpone

Recipe and Photo Credit:  Purewow.com

Yields:  1 cup

Total Time:  2 hours 25 minutes (includes chilling time)

Ingredients

½ cup mascarpone cheese

¼ cup strong espresso

2 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk

½ teaspoon kosher salt

Ladyfingers or shortbread cookies, for serving

Cinnamon, for garnish (optional)

Directions

1. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whip the cheese with the espresso, condensed milk and salt on medium speed until medium-stiff peaks form, about 3 minutes. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate until well chilled, at least 2 hours or overnight.

2. Remove the coffee milk mascarpone from the refrigerator and let warm until just slightly chilled. Garnish with the cinnamon, if desired, and serve immediately with desired accompaniments.

 

All images from Pinterest unless otherwise noted.

Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.