Recipes for Life (24 page)

Beat in cocoa powder until well blended. One at a time, beat in egg and yolks. Beat in flour and vanilla just until smoothly incorporated.

Reduce mixer speed to low and slowly beat in chocolate mixture, scraping to bowl bottom to be sure mixture is thoroughly blended.

In a separate, completely grease-free mixer bowl with mixer set on medium speed, beat egg whites until frothy and opaque. Raise speed to high and continue beating until soft peaks just begin to form. Gradually beat in granulated sugar, continuing to beat until mixture stands in firm but not dry peaks. Add egg white mixture to chocolate mixture, folding with a wire whisk until evenly incorporated but not overmixed. Turn out mixture into soufflé dish. Immediately place dish in larger pan and transfer to oven. Add enough hot tap water to rise 1 inch up casserole sides.

Bake for 55 to 65 minutes or until mixture is set when tapped in center.

Remove large pan from oven; let soufflé dish stand in water bath for 10 to 15 minutes. Serve souffléd pudding immediately, spooned into bowls. Add a dollop of whipped cream, if desired. Alternatively, cover and refrigerate; rewarm in a low oven before serving. (The pudding will firm up and become brownie-like when chilled, and some people will like it that way.)

This is my version of this classic dessert. As far as I am concerned you can never have too many for chocolate lovers.

15 tablespoons (1⅞ sticks) unsalted butter, plus additional for greasing

4 ounces bittersweet Ghirardelli chocolate

4 ounces semisweet Ghirardelli chocolate

1 teaspoon brewed coffee

4 large eggs, plus 4 large egg yolks, at room temperature

½ cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

7 tablespoons all-purpose flour, sifted

Preheat oven to 325°F. Butter and flour six (6-ounce) ramekins or six (6-ounce) glass Pyrex dishes. Place on a baking sheet lined with foil.

In a double boiler, melt the butter, chocolate, and coffee. Stir occasionally, until there is a smooth consistency. Remove from the heat and cool.

In a large bowl, beat the eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and vanilla with an electric mixer on medium speed for about 8 to 10 minutes.

Slowly add the flour on low speed, blending for 2 minutes.

Next add the cooled chocolate mixture and beat for 5 minutes more. The batter needs a lot of beating. This adds air and lightens the cake’s texture.

Divide the mixture equally among the ramekins. Bake them in the middle of the oven until the edges are firm and the center jiggles slightly, for about 12 minutes. (If you want, you can refrigerate the ramekins and bake them later. But you will need to bake them 18 minutes instead of 12 if they are chilled from the refrigerator.) It is important the cakes cook for the correct amount of time, or they will be too molten or end up like brownies. Oven temperature varies, so check the cakes after 12 minutes, and if still too moist, cook another 2 minutes and check them again.

Remove from the oven and allow them to sit in the ramekins until ready to eat. They may sink a little.

Run a knife around the edge before inverting them onto individual serving plates. You may serve this with sweetened whipped cream.

O
VER THE YEARS
I’ve worked with some of the most talented artists in the industry. A few along the way also became dear friends, like Lon Bentley, a brilliant makeup artist (that I begrudgingly had to share with Tom Selleck and Robert Wagner).

Ironically, when Lon and I first met it was during
Tom Horn
, when Steve McQueen refused to let me wear any makeup. All Lon could do was make sure the gold cap I had to wear over my front tooth was in place; then he’d just slap my cheeks before each take to give me a bit of color. Thankfully, Lon’s genius was unleashed later for my most glamorous
Dynasty
days as well as many other projects. We’ve remained dear friends ever since.

Another extraordinary artist that I admired and adored was Armando, who did my makeup and hair for all my magazine covers and the Clairol commercials. Armando and Bunky were kindred spirits, constantly clowning and conspiring to be sure
no one
was ever bored on the set.

We all became close friends over the years. Tragically, Armando contracted AIDS, but he did his best to fight the disease and tried to live as normal a life as possible. One of the main reasons I loved Clairol was because of the compassion they showed Armando. Knowing he was ill, they still allowed me to keep working with him. This was back when little was understood about the disease.

I know a lot about the prejudice and fear people had toward AIDS in those days. After the highly publicized kiss I shared with Rock Hudson, some of the actors on
Dynasty
wouldn’t get near me and even close friends of mine were afraid to be around me.

I remember how poignant it was for Armando, especially toward the end. He was incredibly ill, hardly able to stand at times, but he was determined to be there for me. I, in turn, wanted him to know how much we loved and appreciated him. Clairol understood and allowed us to have our final days together. Who says that big companies can’t have a heart?

I
LOVE CATS
. When I married John, we had six running around our Encino home. Since we lived up in the hills, I was always very protective and careful to bring my cats in every night because of the coyotes.

The same was true when I moved to my house in Beverly Hills: coyotes were notorious for killing small pets in the area. As cautious as I was, I still lost some of my beloved cats. Coyotes would often come running through our yards in packs at night, howling.

It is devastating enough to lose a pet, but it was tragic that we were losing so many animals to coyotes. It was particularly unnerving the way you’d know when they had their victim by the savage scream the pack would make.

One morning around five, while it was still dark, I was driving to the
Dynasty
set when suddenly I heard this bang on the side of my car. I instantly slammed on my brakes and looked in the rearview mirror. I saw a dark four-legged figure darting to the side of the road. I was horrified, thinking that I may have hit a dog. I quickly backed up but I couldn’t see where it had disappeared.

Still believing it was a dog, I got out and found the creature hiding in some ivy. Frightened little eyes stared up at me; the eyes of a coyote lying there, hurt. Until that moment, I hated coyotes, or at least I thought I did. Looking into those eyes pierced my soul. She was so little, so vulnerable, that I knew I couldn’t leave her there to die. But I didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately I had my car phone, so I called my home security company, hoping they could dispatch a patrolman to help me. But at that
hour all I got was an answering machine. The same happened when I tried calling animal rescue and my vet.

The sun was coming up and I knew I would hold up filming if I didn’t leave right away. I’ve never been late for work in my life. I was out of options. When I tried to get a closer look at her she growled. I could see that she was as frightened as I was. So I did the only thing I could think of: I took off my coat and took a deep breath and threw it over the coyote. I scooped her up and rushed to my Jeep Wagoneer. I kept her wrapped in the coat, placed her in the back, and slammed the hatch.

As I drove toward the studio, desperate to find a veterinary hospital, I glimpsed movement in the rearview mirror and saw that the coyote was coming out from under the coat. Now I wasn’t just upset, I was scared.

Just then, I saw a parked police car and quickly pulled up in front of it. I ran to it thinking, thank God, I can get help. I wasn’t thinking about what I must have looked like when I started rambling through my tears about having a coyote in my car and that I was late for work. There were two officers, one male and one female, who looked at each other as if I was totally insane. The female officer followed me to my car and then nodded to her partner, “Yep, there really is a coyote back there.”

My prayers were answered because she got in my car “to protect me” while I drove to the studio, with her partner following in the squad car.

When I arrived at the gate with my police escorts, needless to say, the security guard was surprised. But not nearly as surprised as John Forsythe, who’d also just pulled in.

I still wasn’t sure what to do next. I couldn’t leave the studio since I was scheduled to work all day. The officers said they were going off-duty shortly and they could take her to the nearest emergency animal hospital. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart and gave them a check for the vet.

Feeling hopeful, I went to the makeup department to see if they could work a miracle. Wouldn’t you know, it was one of the few days Krystle didn’t have a crying scene.

Later that afternoon, I heard from the vet that they couldn’t save her. I felt a deep sadness—I couldn’t forget the vulnerability in her eyes. There was so much more to her than just the predator.

At the end of the day, I went to have my wardrobe fitting with Nolan Miller. Rumors had spread quickly around the studio about my coming to work with the cops and a coyote. Nolan, noticing that I was emotionally struggling with it, said he was sorry to hear about what had happened and tried to cheer me up by saying, “I know we’re having budget cuts, but really, Linda, you don’t have to bag your own furs!” Through my tears, I could not stop laughing.

The famous
Dynasty
staircase with Nolan Miller.

I blessed that morning, and my encounter with the coyote. She gave me a greater understanding and compassion for something I thought I hated . . . that is, until I looked into her eyes. Now I see that predators are simply trying to survive . . . just like us.

Little did I know, my younger sister, Kat, would experience a similar revelation many decades later.

Every family usually has one special person that stands out from all the rest, and my beloved sister Kat is that special person in my family. Just a little over five feet tall, with a truly independent spirit, she’s a petite and witty bundle of fire.

When my two nephews (Charlie’s sons), Jimmy and Bruce, were four and five years old, Kat was only fifteen and a great built-in baby-sitter. She was a total hippy at the time, with her long black hair in ponytails on each side of her head, laced with feathers and beads. All of her jackets were leather, with long, beaded fringe, much like one Davy Crockett would have worn. My nephews thought she was the “coolest aunt and babysitter” and now in their fifties, they’re still close to her. Charlie and I feel exactly the same way: we are truly blessed to have Kat as our sister.