Read Boiled Over (A Maine Clambake Mystery) Online
Authors: Barbara Ross
Boiled Over (A Maine Clambake Mystery) (22 page)
The next morning, I felt better. The doctor came in early and assured me my voice would come back completely once the swelling went down in my throat. She said I could go home in the late afternoon if nothing else turned up.
“You probably don’t see that many stranglings in Busman’s Harbor,” I croaked.
“I wish that were true,” she said. “Throttling is the most common form of domestic abuse.”
A physical therapist insisted I practice using my crutches. I went up and down the corridor outside my room so many times, I wore myself out. I ate a lunch of soft, unappetizing foods and fell asleep.
I awoke to voices in my room. One, high and feminine, the other low and rumbling. My eyes flew open. Even before I saw him, I knew from the voice it wasn’t Chris. But I hoped in spite of my own senses it would be.
Richelle sat in the guest chair. Cabe perched on the arm beside her.
“Cabe.”
“They let me go. Thanks to you. They had to. That other guy”—Cabe paused, before he said the rest—“my half-brother, confessed to everything.”
“I’ve told Cabe everything, too,” Richelle said.
“We’ve been talking nonstop since she picked me up at the jail.”
Richelle rested her hand on his forearm. He sat back, relaxed. I had never seen either of them looking so unburdened.
Cabe was a good kid. I had said it, Chris had said it, Sonny had insisted on it over and over. He was a good kid despite all that had happened to him. Lilia and Dave Stone had given that boy enough love in his first twelve years to carry him through.
Richelle had done the right thing by giving him up. And she’d done the right thing by finding him again.
When Richelle and Cabe left, I waited, but Chris never came. After my mother’s talk about love and trust, about acceptance and support, I spent a lot of time thinking about Chris and me. He had told me he loved me. He’d put his beating heart in my hands. He wanted to know, simply, declaratively, and in the moment, if I loved him, too.
I owed him an answer.
What held me back? Was it my innate snobbishness as Livvie had charged? Did I think I was “too good” for Chris? I couldn’t imagine that was true.
Was it my inability to grab hold of my own life, as Vee Snuggs had said? Was I unable to tell Chris I loved him because that caused me to think about the future and where we would live and what I would do? Chris wasn’t asking me for a commitment about the future. He was asking me how I felt right now. I understood that.
No, it was the trust part that my mother had talked about. Could I trust Chris?
Where did he go when he disappeared and what was he doing? I didn’t think he was off with another woman. Despite his history, I was absolutely secure in his love and—I was surprised to find this as I examined it—his fidelity.
Richelle had fallen in love with a criminal and look what it had done to her life. But she’d known who he was and fallen anyway. Despite my little transgressions of the last few days, I was the straight-and-narrowest person I knew. I had to ask myself, could Chris be doing something terribly wrong? And could I still love him if he was?
Just asking myself the question made me laugh. How absurd I was being! Chris was the most decent person I knew. He, and I was sure of this down to the core of my being, would never, ever do anything that would deliberately harm another human being. And he would never compromise himself, or me. What in the world was I so worried about?
He’d asked me to trust him and I found, when I poked into the very corners of my soul, that I did. I could always trust Chris to be Chris.
My mother picked me up at the hospital. The attendant wheeled me to the curb, which was ridiculous. I was banged up and sore, but otherwise fine.
When I got home, I unfolded myself from the car and pulled my crutches from the backseat. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Dear, do you really think—?”
“You heard the nurse. ‘Discharged with no restrictions. ’”
My mother sighed. She could see there was no point in arguing. I started down the driveway, using the crutches the way I’d practiced. By the time I reached the street I was exhausted. Vee Snuggs stood on her porch. I imagined her silently cheering me on.
I followed the sidewalk over the hill until it ran out in the back harbor. I hobbled past the shipyard, past Gus’s to the marina, rehearsing in my head what I planned to say. “Yes, Chris, I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you by not being able to say it until now. I was worried about too many irrelevant things. I let them get in the way of my feelings.”
I climbed onto the dock and walked toward the
Dark Lady’s
slip. Painful as it was to move, I sped up. I had to talk to Chris. Now.
The
Dark Lady
’s slip was empty.
I collapsed onto a bench, unable to walk another step. “I love you,” I said to the square of empty sea. “Come back to me.”
Julia’s mother Jacqueline is a terrible cook, and like a lot of bad cooks, she’s mastered one specialty, which she relies on whenever she’s asked to bring something to a party. In her case, it’s these scrumptious lobster deviled eggs. (The secret’s in the horseradish and smoked paprika.)
8 eggs
3 Tablespoons mayonnaise
1 Tablespoon prepared horseradish, drained
1 teaspoon cider vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
8 ounces cooked lobster meat, chopped.
smoked paprika
snipped chives
Place eggs in saucepan covered with water. Bring to boil and remove from heat. Rest in water for 10 minutes. Rinse with cold water. Add ice and allow them to cool. Peel eggs and slice in half lengthwise. Scoop yolks into bowl. Add mayonnaise, horseradish, vinegar, and mustard and mash together. Gently fold in lobster meat. Spoon back into the egg white halves. Garnish with paprika and chives. Chill before serving. Serves 4-6.
Note: These are also excellent without the lobster meat.
Livvie’s the real cook in the Snowden family, and as you might guess, her lobster salad is a specialty. Too bad Julia doesn’t accompany her family to the picnic and concert in Waterfront Park, because this salad is terrific. The flavor is tremendous and the scallions and celery add a great crunch.
1 pound lobster meat
juice from ½ lemon
2 stalks celery, diced
2-3 scallions, white parts only, thinly sliced
2-3 Tablespoons mayonnaise
salt and pepper to taste
Chop lobster meat into bite-sized pieces and put in bowl. Toss with lemon juice. Add celery, scallions, and just enough mayonnaise to bind together. Taste, and add seasonings. Serve on plate or in buttered, toasted, top-sliced hot dog rolls.
Livvie made this potato salad for the Snowden family picnic before the fireworks at Waterfront Park. In reality, the recipe comes from one of the author’s most precious possessions, a handwritten book of recipes from her grandmother. The vinegar and sugar provide its distinct sweet and sour taste.
4 large potatoes cooked, skins on
2 Tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 large onion, grated
mayonnaise
sugar
salt
pepper
Boil potatoes until they are easily pierced with a fork. Peel and cut into rounds. Add onion. Stir in mayonnaise (enough to coat). Add vinegar. Add sugar, salt, and pepper to taste. Better if made a day ahead.
At the Rotary breakfasts, Viola Snuggs cooks up blueberry pancakes for a crowd. This delicious recipe has been adapted for home use.
2 cups cake flour
¼ cup sugar
4 teaspoons baking powder
2 cups milk
1 egg, lightly beaten
4 Tablespoons melted butter
2 cups Maine wild blueberries, fresh or frozen.
If frozen, thaw thoroughly.
Heat oven to 200 degrees.
Stir dry ingredients together. Add wet ingredients and stir. Fold in blueberries.
Melt butter on medium high heat in pan or on griddle. Spoon out pancake mix in ¼ cupfuls.
Flip pancakes when lightly browned on bottom. (Adjust heat, if necessary, to keep from burning.)
Put finished pancakes on ovenproof platter. Top with butter and keep in warm oven.
Serve with real maple syrup, or other syrup of your choice.
Mrs. Gus is renowned for her pies, and rightly so. This is the blueberry.
3½ cups flour
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1½ cups shortening, lard, or unsalted butter
1 egg, beaten lightly with a fork
1 Tablespoon apple cider vinegar
¼-½ cups ice water, as needed
1 Tablespoon milk (to brush over finished pie before baking)
In food processor, using the metal blade, pulse flour and salt to combine. Add shortening and pulse until reaching the consistency of corn meal. Add egg, vinegar, and ¼ cup ice water. Pulse, adding additional ice water, if necessary, until ingredients barely come together in a dough ball. Turn out onto cutting board and pat together evenly into a large oblong. Divide into four pieces. You will need two for the pie. (You can freeze the other two for a later pie.) Refrigerate. Remove from fridge ten minutes before using.
5 cups Maine wild blueberries, fresh or frozen. (If frozen, thaw thoroughly.)
¾ cup sugar
juice of ½ lemon
cinnamon
1 Tablespoon butter
Roll out bottom crust of pie and put in pie plate. Add blueberries. Over the top put sugar, lemon juice, a dash of cinnamon, and add the butter in pats.
Roll out top crust and cover. Slit top. Brush with milk.
Bake at 425 degrees for ten minutes. Then lower oven temperature to 350 and bake 25 to 35 minutes more, until top is brown and fruit is bubbling.
Q: I notice there’s no tapioca, cornstarch, or other binding agent mentioned. Isn’t the pie all runny?
A: Yes, and it is delicious. Even better with ice cream.
These beans, made by Phil Johnson’s mother, are filling and hearty—perfect after a long day of physical work or play. Common to all the Wabanaki Confederacy tribes of Maine, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia, soldier beans were originally mixed with bear fat and maple syrup and cooked in clay pots buried with hot coals. They are the progenitors of New England’s famous baked beans. This recipe is adapted to make at home (as opposed to at camp).
1 pound soldier beans
1 Tablespoon vegetable oil
3 thick slices slab bacon, chopped
3 thick slices salt pork, chopped
1 onion, chopped
1 large celery stalk, diced, leaves chopped
1 carrot, diced
2 Tablespoons apple cider vinegar
½ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon dried basil
½ cup tomato sauce
½ cup molasses
1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard
2 quarts water
salt and pepper to taste
Soak beans for one hour. Heat oil in large saucepan. Render bacon and salt pork in oil for about three minutes. Add onion, celery, and carrot and sauté for another three-four minutes. Add remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Turn down heat and simmer for one hour. Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Put beans in a bean pot or covered casserole and cook in oven for four hours. (Alternative, after simmering, place in a slow cooker on high for four hours.) Check occasionally. Adjust seasonings. If you think it’s necessary, remove cover for last hour of cooking to thicken.
This hearty camp meal has the distinctive tarragon and cinnamon flavor common to French-Canadian cooking. Julia is knocked over by how good it tastes. It can be made with either ground beef or ground moose meat.
4 slices slab bacon
2 pounds ground beef
3 onions, chopped
4 large stalks celery including leaves, chopped
8 ounces mushrooms, sliced
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon dried tarragon
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup tomato sauce
2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar
Cook bacon until crisp and drain on paper towels. Using 1 Tablespoon bacon drippings, brown beef. Set aside in a bowl. Using another 1 Tablespoon bacon drippings, sauté onions, celery, and mushrooms together for six minutes. Add garlic and cook another minute or two. Add spices, tomato sauce, vinegar, reserved beef, and accumulated juices. Cook together for eight to ten minutes to allow flavors to meld. Either serve alongside baked beans or mix together with beans.
Lu’sknikn is traditional Mi’kmaq bread. It is considered a
bannock
, which is a Scottish word that describes a round, flat, quick bread. You can think of it as being in the family of Irish soda bread.
4 cups flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 Tablespoons baking powder
½ cup lard or shortening + additional for pan
¾ cup raisins or other dried fruit (optional)
2½ cups water
Stir together flour, salt, and baking powder in a bowl. Using your hands or a pastry cutter, cut lard into the flour mix. Add dried fruit and stir to coat. Make a hole in center of the flour, add water, and stir. Heat a 10-inch cast iron skillet over medium heat and melt about a tablespoon of lard. Add half the dough to the pan and press out close to the sides of the pan. Using a knife, make a hole in the center to allow steam to escape. Cook for ten minutes, then turn using two spatulas if necessary. Cook for an additional ten minutes being careful not to burn. Check for doneness with a toothpick or a cake tester. Repeat with second half of dough.
Richelle Rose lives on the road giving tours throughout Maine. When she’s home, she craves simple, local food, and in the summer, that means tomato salad. The basic recipe is wonderful. Add in one or more of the options only if you happened to have the ingredient at hand or desire the taste. Because the flavor of this recipe depends so much on the taste and texture of the tomatoes, it should be made only when you have access to really good ones.
4 large tomatoes
1-2 cloves garlic
kosher salt
½ teaspoon dried oregano
red onion, chopped or sliced
cucumber, seeded and diced
oregano, fresh
basil, fresh
8-12 ounces bocconcini (mozzarella bites) or other fresh mozzarella
Core tomatoes and slice into bite-sized chunks. Layer tomatoes in serving bowl, salting each layer with kosher salt. Mince garlic and toss with tomatoes. Add any other optional ingredients. Cover bowl and marinate at room temperature for 1-2 hours, stirring occasionally. May be served chilled or at room temperature. Also makes a wonderful fresh sauce for pasta. Serves 4.
This is a light, fresh-tasting salad. When Richelle comes off a long road trip, she can put this dish together from items readily available in her pantry.
2 6-ounce cans light tuna packed in olive oil
½ medium onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 15-ounce can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1 tablespoon olive oil
1-2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
Drain oil from tuna and put in bowl. Flake tuna with a fork. Add onion and garlic and stir with fork. Add beans and gently fold together. Dress with oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper. Allow flavors to marinate at room temperature for thirty minutes to an hour. If refrigerated, best to allow to come to room temperature before serving.
