The Body in the Piazza - By Katherine Hall Page Page 0,85
with a slice of proscuitto as an antipasto.” She pointed to one of the sellers. “They make an excellent one. We’ll get plenty. After that it will be seafood. Gianni will bring scampi for sure. He wants to do some of the shrimp on the grill, and that will be part of our antipasto, too. I won’t know the other fish until he gets back. We can have some of the asparagi in a cheese sauce as a contorni. It will go with any kind of fish. Any other ideas? Remember, this will be the last night we cook together, so you must tell me what you want.”
Tomorrow night the Rossis had arranged a banquet for the class at a ristorante on Lago Trasimeno. Francesca had told Faith they wanted to make the last night special—no one working hard, just spending time together at what was one of the most beautiful spots in Italy before they all went their separate ways. She’d worked on the menu with their chef and the meal would be memorable, too. Faith thought it was a lovely idea. She pictured the end of the evening with farewells, some fonder than others, and promises to stay in touch, which no one would keep.
“How about grilling some asparagus along with eggplant and peppers?” Jack said. “I had something like that in a restaurant in Santa Monica and it was great, a little charred with a strong garlic flavor.”
One of the two women who’d inadvertently become part of the group said, “Did you see the thin stalks of wild asparagus? I only saw it on one table and you might want to try it.”
Her friend laughed. “Stalking the Wild Asparagus, Valerie? Remember that Euell Gibbons book from the 1960s?”
She explained to the group, “He was doing what was common practice in Italy—foraging in the wild for mushrooms, greens, things Americans thought were poisonous or weeds.”
“Come for dinner tonight,” Francesca said as they started to leave.
The one named Valerie answered, “That’s so kind of you, but I’m afraid we’re moving on to Siena. We like markets and only stayed to see this one. Our bus goes in an hour. Enjoy your meal. And thank you for the card. Something tells me you could be our next destination!”
Faith felt an instant kinship with them. They seemed to be having such a good time. The mention of Siena destroyed any vestige of calm for her, though. It didn’t make sense. Tom couldn’t possibly have gone off with everything that was going on.
Hattie was offering a menu suggestion. “Isn’t there some kind of Italian asparagus dish with an egg? Alla Bismarck, although why in God’s green acre they would name a tasty dish after a Prussian general here in Italy beats me.”
“I do not know why either, but it is what we call any dish with a fried egg on it, Pizza alla Bismarck is another,” Francesca said. “Why don’t we make small portions of it, use the wild asparagi for a simple contorni with butter and maybe a little cheese, with one more dish, an asparagus sformato, which is like a soufflé?”
Luke, who seemed an endless font of culinary lore, knew the answer to the question of Bismarck. And it wasn’t North Dakota. It was indeed named for the Prussian chancellor.
“Otto von Bismarck was well known not just for his abilities as a statesman and on the battlefield but as a molto trencherman who could consume vast amounts of food at one sitting. He was partial to eggs, topping everything from meats to vegetables with plenty of them fried.”
“To do the dish well, we need very fresh eggs, so it is fortunate we are here in the market,” Francesca said. “You need to keep chickens, Jean-Luc, and then we can have the uova and a nice bird, too, once in a while.”
“All I know is that with all this asparagus my piss is going to stink,” Len said, and after a glare from his wife, “pardon my French, my urine is going to stink.”
Terry wasn’t the only one who didn’t laugh, or at least smile, at the remark. Olivia seemed miles away, as if she hadn’t heard him.
“Well, odore or no, let’s select our ingredients and then meet back at the van in an hour. Some of you mentioned you wanted time to explore the town,” Francesca said, handing Mario a large market basket. Faith had noticed that the sous chef had not been left behind on his own.