Diane Davidson - The Grilling Season

“He’s like herpes,” I said. “You just never know when he’s going to erupt.”

Tom offered no reply. I glanced at him expecting a smile, but his handsome face stayed set in deep thought, his lovely liquid green eyes fixed on the table. I turned back to the orzo salad.

Mediterranean Orzo Salad

1 cup (6 ounces) uncooked orzo pasta

3 tablespoons finely chopped red onion

1 cup seeded, chopped fresh tomato (about 3 small tomatoes)

ź cup chopped celery

2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil (or more if desired)

2 tablespoons finely chopped pitted Kalamata olives

2 tablespoons capers

1 teaspoon “grained” Dijon mustard

ź teaspoon sugar

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons garlic oil (available in specialty food shops, such as Williams-Sonoma)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

3 ˝ ounces chčvre, crumbled

Bring a large quantity of water to a boil and cook the orzo just until tender (“al dente”). Drain and allow to cool. Mix the pasta with the onion, tomato, celery, basil, olives, and capers. In a small bowl, whisk together the mustard, sugar, and vinegar. Gradually beat in the oil until an emulsion forms. Pour this vinaigrette over the pasta mixture and season with salt and pepper. Chill the salad. When it is cold, mix in the crumbled chčvre, then serve.

Serves 4

The densely fragrant chčvre cheese fell into appetizing bits as my knife sliced through it. I chopped fragrant fresh basil and crisp stalks of celery, then mixed them in with the orzo. Next I whisked seasonings into balsamic vinegar and began to beat in garlic-flavored oil for an emulsion. When the dressing turned thick and creamy, I poured it over the orzo and vegetables, then stirred it carefully. Although I knew the salad should chill, I was ravenous. I delicately mixed in the chčvre, then reached for a plastic spoon to have a taste. When I put the spoonful into my mouth, the pungent Mediterranean flavors of crumbly cheese and garlic-robed pasta almost made me swoon.

I turned to Tom. “Hungry? I’ll bet you haven’t had anything besides vending-machine coffee and Danish.”

“Sure. I’ll take whatever you’ve got going.”

I ladled out a large bowl of the warmly fragrant pasta salad. On a whim, even though it was just past noon, I poured him a glass of Chianti. I figured he needed it. Then I poured myself one, figuring I needed it even more.

“This is absolutely delicious,” he murmured appreciatively after the first few bites. “I’m sure the hockey folks will love it.” I gave him a kiss, thanked him, tucked the rest of the salad into the walk-in refrigerator to chill, and turned to the mountain of mushrooms, onions, and zucchini I needed to trim for the Grilled Slapshot Salad.

Grilled Slapshot Salad

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

3 large or 4 small garlic cloves, pressed, or 1 ˝ teaspoons finely minced garlic

3 medium-size or 4 small zucchini

8 ounces fresh whole mushrooms

1 sweet onion (sometimes called Mexican sweet onion or Peruvian sweet onion)

2 ears fresh or frozen corn, defrosted

1 tablespoon (or more) sherry vinaigrette (see Exhibition Salad with Meringue-Baked Pecans)

1 to 2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil

Whisk together the oil, salt, pepper and garlic and divide it between two 9-by 13-inch glass pans. Slice the zucchini on the bias into ź” slices, place the slices into one of the pans, and mi carefully with your hands so that all the zucchini slices are lightly coated with the oil-garlic mixture. Trim the stem of the mushrooms. Slice the onion horizontally into ź” slices. Place the mushrooms, onion slices, and corn into the other glass pan and again mix carefully by hand so that all the vegetable are lightly coated with the oil-garlic mixture.

Oil and preheat the grill. Preheat the oven to 400°. Place the zucchini slice on the grill and cook briefly – no longer than 30 seconds – on one side only. Place the zucchini slices back into the glass pan, cooked side up, and put them into the oven while you prepare the rest of the salad (no longer than 10 minutes). Briefly grill the mushrooms, onion slices, and corn on all sides, until they have grill marks but are not cooked through. This should only take a few minutes. Remove the onion slices and mushrooms and set them aside to cool. Holding each ear of corn perpendicular to the cutting surface, slice off the kernels. Remove the zucchini from the oven. Combine the zucchini slices, mushrooms, onion slices, and corn kernels. Pour the vinaigrette over the vegetables and carefully stir in the fresh basil. Serve immediately or chill for no more than 1 hour.

Serves 4

I said, “Want me to keep working, or do you want me to sit with you for a bit?”

He shook his head. “Think I need my hand held?”

“No, I didn’t mean – ” I blutted out. But he held out his hand and I took it.

“No. Fault’s mine, Miss G. I’ve been put in the background on this case and I’m blaming you, which I shouldn’t. Actually, please stop worrying about me. You’re the one who should be stressed out. My wife the caterer, the one who refuses to see a victim advocate no matter how bad things get.”

“Oh, please.”

“Oh, please, yourself, Miss G. Talk to me.”

I sat at the table across from him and took a sip of wine. Its acrid taste burned into my chest. I sighed. “This… event. It’s horrid. Whenever I stop chopping or cooking, the memories flood in. I’m desperate to know what’s going on. At the same time, I want – I need – it to be over.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. Should we all go up to the cabin for a while?” Tom’s lovely, remote log dwelling outside of Aspen Meadow had flooded this spring, and he’d lost his tenants. Tom and I had scrubbed the floors and walls. Over the Jerk’s objections that we were spoiling Arch, we’d paid him to wash the windows. But we hadn’t yet advertised for new renters. Maybe going to the cabin wasn’t such a great notion. I knew Tom, Arch, and Macguire wouldn’t relish being away from our home base for an extended time. And if I stayed up there alone, I’d brood and fret even more.

“No, thanks. I just need to work. Be with you all. And… although I know it’s going to be tough, I’d like to keep informed on what’s happening. Arch is going to have questions around the clock.”

His fingers stroked my hair. “Okay. Keep cooking, if that’s what you need to do. And I’d be happy to tell you what’s going on. It’ll make me feel as if I’m doing something on this case.” He sounded glum.

I frowned at the vegetables. “There’s one thing I told Beiner that you should know.” I related to him Macguire’s suspicion that ReeAnn Collins, John Richard’s secretary for the past six months, was romantically involved with him. Tom put down his fork, retrieved his spiral notebook from his back pocket, and made a note. While I heated the kitchen stove top grill for the Slapshot Salad, I shared Marla’s news about John Richard and Suz’s fight at the club last night, and that Suz had reportedly fired a doctor named Ralph Shelton and a nurse whose name I did not know.

“Yeah “– Tom shook his head – “there was some kind of problem with this Craig woman being able to keep people. We don’t know much yet, but we do know that.”

I nodded, then felt a pang of guilt. “Are you sure you want to talk to me about the case? I mean, after what happened last time, when Marla got into so much trouble?”

He looked at me intently. “Miss G. I can’t believe you’d really want to get any more involved in this than you are already.”

“Excuse me, but my first responsibility is to Arch. Whatever that looks like.” I felt the edge creep into my voice and despised myself for it. Tom, after all, was not the enemy. “I’m sorry. I … just need to know what’s going on. No surprises.”