Sarah's story:
A pinch of salt 5 A recipe, rev
Emma fell for him immediately. Tall, well-built but slim, dark, no wonder he had the lead role. But these qualities alone would not have sufficed. It was his deep bass voice, which not only made him the star of the show but also pierced deep into Emma’s heart. I suppose one should say, into her entrails, because we all know and admit nowadays that love starts with sex.
To herself, she admitted the crush. How could she not? But she hesitated to say she was “in love with him” because she didn’t know him from Adam, in point of fact. And there was little chance of her meeting him. The town was big, and she was not a member of that theatre group nor likely to be, as she could neither act nor sing. But she thought about that production for days, and was on the point of splurging and buying a ticket for the last performance, though she knew that was what silly groupies did.
And then it happened that on the Tuesday of that week, day on which she worked as a volunteer at the Food Distribution Centre after she got off work, she saw him there as well. Not asking for for food, surely! No, it seemed he was offering his services. A one-off? Or was he to be a permanent member of the team? She got up her courage and went over to talk to him.
“No, no,” he assured her, it was not just for this evening; he hoped to be able to make it a regular thing. These times were so difficult for some people. Her heart beat faster at this proof of his generosity and humanity. But there was little else to say and much work to be done at the centre.
She wondered if she could invite him to dinner? What a preposterous idea! The idea had come out of a memory: her mother’s saying to her that “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Her mother, whose family was from the French West Indies, made a certain dish that Emma remembered, though her mother had never made it again after her father had died. “Too many memories attached,” her mother had said.
This dish was the one, according to Emma’s mother, that had won over Emma’s father, if anyone could believe such a tale. A “chicken colombo” though not an authentic recipe, her mother had said. “I simply made up my own version, with the ingredients I had on hand,” she had said. As Emma remembered, it went like this:
Cut the chicken into bite-size pieces and brown them slightly in oil.
Add some finely diced onion and green or red pepper and cook gently till the onion is translucent.
Add some sliced carrots, some green marrows, a little garlic and a couple of spoonfuls of colombo (depending on how hot you want it to be, her mother had said).
Add chicken bouillon or fond de volaille and water, and simmer for at least half an hour.
At the end thicken if necessary, add coconut milk (or cream, if you can’t get the former), and serve over rice.
And, as she also remembered, it was delicious.
Inviting a man to dinner, however, was problematic. In the old days, that might have been a simple way of getting to know someone; you assumed that he didn’t know how to cook, and that you were doing him a friendly favour, and maybe things would go on from there and maybe not. But nowadays—what man would take such an overture as anything else but an invitation to jump into bed? And jump out of the next morning to go on his way. That was not what she had in mind, at least not yet. She wanted to know him better first. She felt that something more serious was in the balance. And so she hesitated.
But she could not help confiding in her best friend. Candee listened with interest, and said she had seen the show too and agreed that Robbie Chanda was hot stuff. But she agreed too that inviting him to dinner might be taken as too brash a move, considering how little they knew each other.
Now Candee was not someone who would win the prize as the world’s most loyal friend, and she had the expedient philosophy that all’s fair in love and war, so the next Tuesday she too showed up at the Food Distribution Centre. As it happened, Emma herself was not able to go that evening, as Candee had reminded her that this was the last evening of the sales and that if she still wanted to get that jacket she had better go now. Candee also lost no time in inviting Robbie Chanda to dinner, for she had no qualms about being brash. And she made the chicken colombo recipe, as she remembered it. Things went as expected, and Candee noted the evening down in her Leporello book, as she called it. (She had once seen Don Giovanni.) She didn’t mention the incident to her best friend, however. Some things are best kept secret. Then she waited for Robbie Chanda to call her back.
The following Tuesday Emma was back at the centre, but Candee did not appear. Not that Emma expected any such thing, for she had never heard that her friend had been there the week before. Robbie Chanda came over to her as they were taking a break.
“Where’s your friend?” he asked.
“Which friend?”
“Isn’t that Candee Jacobs a friend of yours? I thought she was.”
“She is,” said Emma, astonished. “But why would she be here?”
Robbie Chanda told her about the preceding week, and how he had looked for her but not found her and someone had said that the girl Candee was a friend of hers.
Emma was pleased a this bit of news, though amazed at her friend’s coming to the centre, and even more at her silence on the matter. She was, however, taken aback by his next words.
“And you know what? She even invited me to dinner. Out of the blue like that. Said she had a special recipe. I went, of course. Partly out of curiosity, and partly because I never turn down a dinner invitation.”
By this time Emma had almost bitten her tongue off. She was speechless. He glanced at her, and took on an apologetic tone.
“You’re not upset, are you?”
“Upset? Why should I be?” She was embarrassed at her own spluttering. Why couldn’t she be cool and collected as Candee always was?
“I mean, my sleeping with your friend.”
Emma stared at him. Had it gone so far as that? What a quick worker that viper was!
“It didn’t mean anything, you know. She obviously expected it, so why not? I’m not tied up with anybody. At least not yet,” he added as he looked at her, which confused her entirely.
She recovered enough to ask, “And what was this dish that she concocted for you, if I may ask?”
“A sort of chicken colombo. It was good, but not exceptional. And yet, I think it could be made better.”
She nearly strangled on her next words. “It was my mother’s recipe!’
Robbie Chanda laughed, a hearty bass laugh and her heart flipped over. Oh, that treacherous Candee! And now she could never invite Robbie Chanda herself, not after this!
“I’m a pretty good cook,” he said. “What do you say if I invite myself over and we try to better the recipe together?”
She stared at him again, and only just barely managed to get out whatever words were necessary to agree.
So he came over and they made the dish together and it was delicious. “Why didn’t you like it when … my friend … made it?” Emma asked.
“She obviously forgot an essential element.”
“But I gave her the directions just as my mother gave them to me, and Candee is nothing if not scrupulously accurate in everything she does. She’s not very original, but she does know how to follow a recipe.”
“Perhaps your mother forgot to tell you something that was obvious to her, and maybe even to you. A pinch of salt. That makes all the difference.”
There is no need to go on with this story, which developed very nicely just as the reader may expect. Whether or not the relation endured, I cannot say, but perhaps it did. They say too many cooks spoil the broth, but sometimes two good cooks make a fine pair, especially when that is not the only thing that unites them.
+ 1450 wds
Annemarie's contribution:
A Pinch of Salt
As they stepped down from the plane a gust of stifling heat met them. Alan wondered why he had agreed to come, particularly as he didn't feel part of the group. But Anna insisted he was included. He privately believed that the grant from the Royal Astronomical Society, which had made possible the young astronomers' visit to the observatory, had been 'influenced' by her father, Professor Bright. Whenever Alan put forward one of his theories to the professor it was as though his words ricocheted back without the professor hearing or he would respond with an offhand gesture and a joke. It certainly was not his hearing; he always seemed to listen intently to the other students and as to the joking Anna said « Oh! It's just his way. You must take it with a pinch of salt.»In fact Alan was often told «to take it with a pinch of salt.Don't take it so seriously. Lighten up! «Well he would see how light this working holiday in the Sierra de San Pedro Martir would be and how seriously his fellow companions took him. Already they had spent had more than eighteen hours together in the confines of the plane with a brief stop in Mexico City, followed by another six hours and more along the coastal road in a bus with narrow upright seats. They had been told there was the possibility of food, drink, WiFi and toilets on board the bus, only one of which proved true - fortunately the toilet, only one of which was working. And that was very smelly and there was no paper! It was an interminable hot, dusty and bumpy ride. Sleep was intermittent, conversation desultory, hunger and thirst preeminent. On reaching the cabins in the National park they dumped their baggage and, exhausted, headed for their beds, the three girls in one cabin, the three guys in the second cabin. No time for anything but along, long sleep. Midday and the sun beat down; underneath a copse of sugar pines, the mountains in the distant view, six dishevelled astronomy students sat outside the cabins discussing the programme for the rest of the week. Apart from the nighttime visits to the observatory where they would be researching and testing their theories they planned on hiking in the park where there were a great variety of mammals: mule deer, bighorn sheep, cougar, bobcat, ringtail cat, coyote. They also hoped to see the many avian species including bald eagles, golden eagles, falcons, woodpecker, black vultures and particularly the condors, which had been re-introduced to the wild in the National Park. Then there was an incredible variety of vegetation, trees and plants. Alan muttered that they hadn’t come all this way to hike in the sweltering heat or to see birds and animals they could see in a zoo back home. After all, this was a chance in a million - a new moon, one of the best observatories for stargazing - so why not spend more time in the observatory where they could meet, discuss and learn from the astronomers who worked there. In unison the others laughingly mocked him;«All work and no play makes Alan a dull boy... oh, Alan we're in Mexico ...fantastic scenery, we'll have to try the food and then there's the Tequila to try, barbecues etc...have some fun, lighten up. Hell, why don't you try a drink for once!»Alan swallowed, his Adam’s apple prominent and the muscle at the side of his mouth twitching. Another dig at him for being teetotal. Well, yes, perhaps he would 'lighten up'.They hiked the pine trails high in the mountains during the day and cooked on wood fires outside the cabins before the evening visits up to the observatory. With the moon a mere super-thin silver crescent the stars were astonishingly clear and after a long discussion with one of the resident astronomers Alan knew he would make the professor listen to his theory once he was back at Warwick university. No more ignoring him or worse still, mocking him in front of the class. The visits to the observatory had exceeded his expectations; he had even learnt something from his forced hikes.On their last evening the guys went off foraging for wood for the fire while the girls prepared tostadas and enchiladas. It was Alan's turn to be barman and while the others sprawled around the fire he cut some limes, placed salt in a small dish and poured a measure from a bottle into six glasses.«I just want to thank you,» said Alan, «for including me on this trip. I know I am often the but of your jokes, that I supposedly take life too seriously but I have learnt a lot from our hikes about the flora and fauna of Mexico and tonight I propose a toast to us all with tequila, made from the blue agave plant. As you know, and you keep telling me, I don't drink but 'enjoy!'as you always say.»He handed round the six glasses, the salt and wedges of lemon to the five of them as they sat round the fire. He watched as they went through the ritual - lick the back of the hand, pinch of salt, swig of tequila, bite of lemon - and he watched again five contorted faces. He added a heap more wood to the fire, this time wood he had collected, and he retreated to his cabin. The extremely bitter and nauseating taste of the sap of the Mexican oleander, well-hidden by the sour lime, made them shake their heads and pucker up their mouths. The fumes of that same oleander reinforced the effect of the sap. Who knew that this so-common shrub harboured such toxicity in its sap, its branches and in its leaves. Drowsiness, dizziness, nausea - he watched from the darkness of the cabin as one by one his five friends toppled over. Slowly a silence fell, heavy like wet autumn leaves on a London pavement Too far, too late to call for hospital help. No more would they call him a nerd. He lay on his back and contemplated the dark Mexican sky peppered with bright stars holding, who knew what, fame for him.
Story from Geraldine:
A PINCH OF SALT
When George woke up that morning, he felt as if he could have gone back to sleep for another very long time but that he would never forget, never, never, the blaze of the previous evening.
He could still feel smoke in his nose, his head was spinning, his eyes were swollen and tearful and he could just about hear Joan’s faint voice crying out « it’s OK Dad, you’ve made it ! What about having breakfast now, I’m starving ! »
And this little voice pulled him together, his consciousness waking up to his small flat where they were all packed tight, waiting for instructions from the local authorities to what would be their next step.
He sat up in his bed, his girlfriend Leonie fast asleep next to him , her son Alexander tucked safely under her arm. And, in the kitchen his 2 other children, also with swollen eyes, waiting to find out what steps to make towards breakfast.
As he opened the door, he discovered that everywhere was covered in cinders, the air was blurred, the outdoor temperature was more than 40°C , so he slamed it which woke up Leonie and Alexander still fast asleep.
Dad, why did you come back so late last night and why are we all scrambled in here ? Is it going to be like this during all our holiday ? asked Suzan, his young eleven year old daughter.
Look sweetheart, you’ve been seeing lots of pictures on Television showing how our country is burning and…we had very hard times last night at Leonie’s home where we were staying for New Years Eve, as we were told by the firemen around 11o’clock to get our belongings safe in the cars in order to leave if necessary. They also suggested that we shouldn’t drink too much, although we were to celebrate a lovely New Year full of hope,joy and hapiness !
So what happened then, asked David, his thirteen year old son ?
Well my boy, we did what they asked us to do and went around the farm to see if Leonie’s Mum was Ok in her house : it was very hot : the eucalyptus around were on fire and the strong wind was blazing towards us, so we got quite nervous : this New Year was looking as if was going to be a nightmare. Nevertheless, we celebrated at midnight with a little toast to the future, and went to bed to try and get some sleep : it could be necessary for the coming hours said the firemen who had their hoses out and were fighting the flames.
And did you sleep, were you frightened, asked Joan, his eldest daughter ?
Well, we didn’t get much sleep but we tryed to rest a bit. The firemen were at work, asking us to get out of their way so they could try and do the job. It was so terribly hot too… So we took a few showers and had a laydown.
Then, everything went very quickly : Leonie’s Mum was evacuated as it was getting too hot and we were told that the flames were starting to lick our house, so we grabbed Alexander, ran towards the car and got started : yes I was frightened : the three of us had to get out of here as quickly as possible, the heat was intense, the smoke was thick, making my head spin and I had to keep control on what I was doing : rescuing us and getting onto the main road before we would get trapped ! It needed an enormous amount of concentration and energy, so yes, I was frightened, but I didn’t have time to give in to it.
But why did you get here so late then ? Well, because we started driving down along the coast, but there were huge traffic-jams all the way down, because the Authorities told all the people on holiday to move back to their homes immediately before they would get surrounded by the forest fires and so everybody was on the roads…. And the smoke was just terrible : we had our headlights on all the time, tried to get some air to breathe and had to stop from time to time because of the headache that was creeping up my temples and to get a bit of food and drink for us all…. And empty our bladderes ! Smiles…
And now, lets get some breakfast on. We all need to support each other for the next few days : Leonie was given bad news on her mobile : her house has burnt down to the ground… so she and Alexander are now homeless and going to be staying with us for a while. Let’s try and make the place as confortable as we can and be nice to each other.
We are only allowed out to do our shopping as quickly as possible and if things get worse around here, we will be evacuated by sea by the Army. So, listen carefully : the meeting point on the beach is beside the children’s playground : it’s covered with a thick 10 centimeter ash carpet which means you have to have good shoes on, just in case. So whatever happens, we all stay together all the time and behave as responsible people : do you understand ?
Yes Dad, yes we do. What about some cereal and eggs and bacon for us all ? I’ll take the order : how many eggs ?
Thank you sweatheart. That’ll be great.
And turning towards Leonie, George said in a whisper « It’s good they are taking it with a pinch of salt, but it was really the worst chapter in my life I could ever imagine ». Love you.
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