able to expense this.” Rose turned in exasperation to Jason. He’d called her a few hours ago and instructed her to meet him at an address downtown, which turned out to be a restaurant called Neo. She’d read about it in The New York Times a few weeks earlier, where it had been well received by the dining critic for its refreshing, offbeat menu.
“A friend of mine works here,” Jason assured her. “It’s part of our research.” He led Rose inside, where the hostess, a doe-eyed beauty with a huge Afro, ignored them.
From what Rose could tell, the entire waitstaff had been chosen from the cream of the genetic pool, young men and women with long limbs and shiny hair. “In what way is this part of our story? Do you think Darby’s working here as a waitress?”
He gave a snort of a laugh. “Now, there’s an image. No, I don’t think that. Did you bring the spice book?”
She pulled it out of her bag. “Yup. But I—”
“Good. Now please give this a chance for five minutes?”
Jason whispered something to the hostess and her demeanor changed dramatically. She laid a manicured finger on his arm and gave him a warm smile revealing even, white teeth. Then she turned and wobbled away on her four-inch heels.
Very impressive. “What did you say to her?”
“Just dropped a name.”
More people had squeezed into the narrow foyer and now they were pressed against one wall, shoulders touching. Chasing the latest trends in fine dining wasn’t for her. Too much posing, for one thing—she hated all those hot spots where more attention was paid to the atmosphere than the food. She’d take a good juicy burger over a celebrity sighting any day of the week.
“Jason!”
The crowd waiting to be seated parted like the Red Sea as a large man in a chef’s uniform strode forward. He shook Jason’s hand with enthusiasm and nodded when Rose was introduced. “So glad you could come.”
“Chef, you look sharp in that toque. And busy,” said Jason.
“Always have time for you.”
“Rose, this is my buddy Steven Hinds. Steven, Rose.”
He shook her hand and led them back to the kitchen. Jason gave Rose a wink.
She refused to rise to the bait. “I get it, so you know the chef. Stop showing off.”
They swept through swinging doors into the enormous open kitchen. Every surface was pristine, and the copper pots glistened under the fluorescent lights. The line cooks and sous chefs barely looked up, concentrating on the task at hand, whether searing meat or cutting herbs into slivers.
The chef directed them to a quiet corner. “Let’s see your book, then.”
Rose placed it on the counter, happy to see that he wiped his hands on his apron before handling it.
“This is from the fifties?”
“Nineteen fifty-two, to be exact,” she said. “A man named Sam Buckley compiled it, and we’re trying to find out more about him.”
He spent several moments perusing the text. “Well, I can tell you this much: Sam Buckley was way ahead of his time. No one back then would dare experiment with these spices. Several were unheard of in America until thirty or so years ago. Where did this guy come from?”
“From New York City, originally. But he was abroad during World War Two. We think he wrote this after he got back.”
“These are amazing blends, surprising even today. Let’s try one of them and see.”
He called out a list of herbs from page seventeen of the book to his sous chef, and in no time had a pestle and mortar as well as jars of fresh spices lined up in front of him.
“Nice to have someone do your bidding,” said Jason.
“Like when I used to make you do my science homework.”
Rose turned to Jason. “You were in school together?”
“High school. I did his homework and he fed me homemade pizza after school.”
“Sounds like a fair trade.”
The chef measured out the recommended amounts of each spice, mixing dried cilantro, dried kaffir lime leaves, and pepper.
“This is one of the simpler formulas.” Steven mixed it with lime juice and then chopped up papaya and mango and drizzled the dressing over the cubes. “Preferably, you’d want to dry or cure the spices yourself, to get the optimal flavor. Can you imagine the housewives of that time making something like this? We’re talking about the era when TV dinners first came onto the scene.”
He speared a mango and offered it to Rose. The taste was frighteningly powerful at first, with a sour finish that