Recipes for Life (2 page)

To my sister Kat and my brother-in-law Al: my heartfelt thanks for your love, support, recipe, and photos.

To Nena: thank you for being my kitchen companion all those years.

To Francine LaSala: thank you for the endless hours of help and creative joy.

Thank you to Nancy Langkopf and Kim Hanley, my ever-faithful friends and helpers, who wear so many hats so well.

I am so grateful to each and every one of these beautiful people for richly contributing to this book and my life:

Tracy Johansen, Peggy Ledyard, Johan Pool, Stephen Breimer, Tony Williams, John Cahoon, Alan Markfield, Gary Bernstein, Kari Mozena, Ann Limongello, JZ Knight, Dani Janssen, Anne Stewart, Pilar Wayne, Diana Welanetz Wentworth, Julia Child/Random House, Ina Garten/Random House, Nancy Baggett, Yuk Mai Leung Thayer, Linda McCallum, Luciana Paluzzi Solomon, Anda Allenson, Yorgo Chryssomallis, Stephen Atkinson, Bunny Stivers, Julie Heath, Mark Shepard, Jennifer
Hozer, Joel L. Bouvé, Dana Baker, Marlee Simmons, Gaye Ann Bruno, Carol Rosegg, Chris Nichols, Ashley James, David Bowers, Douglas Dubler, Barry King, Jerry Nagin, and Nolan Miller.

I also want to thank the Ronald Reagan Library, George Bush Presidential Library and Museum, ABC, ITV, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., CBS, Blue Angels, Circus of the Stars, NBC, Playboy, Universal Studios, Crown Copyright, and the Vatican.

And last, but certainly not least, thank you to Roger Cooper and Georgina Levitt and everyone at Vanguard Press for being a supportive family to me and making this dream come true.

F
RIENDS LAUGH WHEN
I tell them “You could chain me to a stove and I’d be happy.” But it’s the truth. My two favorite things in life are people and food. Combining them by preparing meals for the people I love is simply my recipe for joy.

Victory in London.

My whole life I never could say no to food. I’m a mystery to my family. I was called “Bones” by my father when I was young and blessed
with an incredible metabolism that allowed me to eat, eat, eat, with little consequences, and I still can. It has been one of the great pleasures of my life.

I started cooking when I was about twenty-three. It was rough going at the beginning, and then I discovered Julia Child’s first cookbook,
Mastering the Art of French Cooking
. I was in heaven.

As I continued to experiment and learn and grow, I found it wasn’t just the
cooking
I was deriving such pleasure from, it was also the
cooking for
. Finding the right menu for the right person was a wonderful experience, and when I hit it, the alchemy was delicious. Since the first time I cooked something special for someone and saw the joy it gave them, I’ve been hooked. It became my passion, though not my only passion.

Ironically, I never planned to become an actress. I’d always dreamed of having children, a loving husband, and a beautiful home. Destiny definitely took me down a less traditional road. I have had beautiful homes, and two marriages that started off very lovingly, and I’ve been a stepmother instead of a mom. Not exactly what I’d had in mind, but God knows I have no regrets. Life led me in directions I never imagined, but it has always fulfilled my heart’s desire and has given me far more than I ever could have dreamed.

Acting has afforded me a lifetime of meeting remarkable people around the world. Sometimes I can’t believe that I’ve actually dined with kings and queens and presidents, that I’ve been invited to everything from intimate dinners in quaint little villages to the most prestigious restaurants from Paris and Hong Kong to Sydney. I even spent my fortieth birthday in the dining car on the Orient Express en route to Venice.

From
Big Valley
to
Dynasty
and everything in between and since, I have been collecting recipes. Some are from world-renowned chefs, others were handed down through the generations. Some are from friends and celebrities I have known, and, of course, many are from the hundreds of cookbooks I have amassed over the last forty years.

I love experimenting: creating my own versions of recipes and testing them out on my friends. As I’ve said, one of the greatest gifts you can
give to someone is to prepare their favorite meal. Being able to touch someone’s heart, while doing something I adore, is one of the reasons I so love to cook.

Since those amazing
Dynasty
days, my life has continued to be a wondrous adventure, enabling me to travel the world, getting to know others and myself. I’ve learned so much more than just how to separate the yolk or all the lovely ways to set an inviting table. Certainly, my wild ride on
Hell’s Kitchen
with Marco Pierre White was one of the greatest cooking experiences of my life. I’ve come to see the complete picture, why it’s not just about preparing a meal, but the importance of friends gathering to share their hopes and dreams.

This book is a love letter to all those I have known and cherished and shared wonderful foods with. I hope that you will enjoy the people, the recipes, and the banquet that has been my life—so far.

Linda Evans
      

M
Y PARENTS WERE
pretty typical of their generation: Mom cooked, Dad ate. My mother was one of those wonder cooks who could make gravy out of air and stretch a little pot of homemade soup to feed a small army, which she often did.

In 1943 my parents decided to move west. They had been working for years as professional ballroom dancers on the East Coast, but after my sister Carole (who is now known as Charlie) and I were born, my mother retired and we moved from Connecticut to California. My grand parents, Tony and Marie, were managers of a U-shaped complex in Hollywood and we moved into a charming little duplex right next to them. I loved it because it was on Sycamore Street, which actually was lined with beautiful old sycamore trees.

Daddy worked alone for a while, but then gave up dancing as well to become an interior wallpaper hanger / painter extraordinaire. He loved his job and would occasionally work in the homes of the famous, like Rudy Vallée and Dana Andrews.

It was tough work in those days. Daddy did not have paint rollers in 1948 or water-based paint and all the work was done with large, heavy brushes. Charlie and I always knew what color he was using since his white overalls would be splattered with the “Color of the Day.”

My father truly loved everyone and “never met a stranger.” Occasionally, he’d arrive home for dinner, walk in happy, and announce to Mom, “Add some water to the soup, honey, I’ve brought a new friend.” While driving home, he’d see a homeless man sitting against a wall and invite him to dinner. Daddy would always make the “new friend” feel at home, offering him a drink and, of course, one of Mom’s great meals. At the end of the evening, he would get back in his car and drive many miles to return the man back to where he found him.

Mom and Dad—my dancing stars.

Each time it was a brand-new friend. It gave Daddy great joy to give some happiness to an individual—even if only for one night. We all loved him for this.

Incidentally, the only time Dad ever cooked for us was when we went to this little cabin in the forest. There were no modern conveniences, so Dad would just warm up a can of something or other on the wood-burning stove. But for a kid, that was more exciting than a fancy feast.

W
HEN
I
WAS
around five and Charlie six, a mother and her little boy moved into an apartment in the back corner of our complex. The boy was very young, so my sister and I didn’t play with him much. One day, there was a large banner across the little boy’s door that read: ISOLATION POLIO–DO NOT ENTER. As a child it was hard for me to understand what was going on.