Silenced By Syrah (2 page)

She tossed back her hair, which lately she’d allowed to grow long and started coloring a medium brown. She’d done it at first for fun, but then had received a lot of compliments and also found that the old adage about blondes and brunettes was true. Blondes may have more fun, but she’d found in her case that as a brunette people seemed to take her more seriously, and she liked that. Blonde had also been
the look
she’d clung to when she lived in L.A., pursuing an acting career that flowed about as smoothly as a roller coaster ride, until she’d finally decided to get off and get a
real
job. Crossing her arms over her fitted striped blouse, she took a step back from Andrés. Now the job was stable, but the relationship stuff—another trip altogether.

“I’m sorry. He looks at you as if there is more there, and maybe I’m jealous.”

She reached out and touched his shoulder. Strong shoulders and arms, the kind she liked wrapped around her—a man who worked the vineyard. Andrés was a winemaker down the road at Spaniard’s Crest. “There is nothing between me and Derek. Nada. Nothing.” There wasn’t. A wink, a smile, typical flirtation, right? But nothing in terms of it meaning anything. “Okay?”

“Fine.” He made an attempt at laughing. “It’s my nature to be, uh, maybe protective, or as you might say in English I have a bit of that green-eyed monster lying within.”

“Tell the monster to relax.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “So, you’re going into the city? Why?”

He looked down and then away from her. “Some business.”

“What kind of business?” There was something he wasn’t telling her. She could see it. She’d known him long enough to know that Andrés didn’t lie well or hide things for that matter. In fact, his straightforwardness was one of the things she liked about him. They’d been friends before they’d ever decided to venture further into this new territory of dating. And, one day he’d laid it on the line for her, telling her that he had feelings for her and wanted to be with her. As much as there had been chemistry and flirtation with Derek, there had been honesty with Andrés. She’d decided to take a chance. And, so far so good.

“Nikki, yoo-hoo.” Nikki glanced over to see Derek’s brother Simon waving at her from the corner of the courtyard. She waved back.

“He would drive me loco,” Andrés said.

“He’s sweet and harmless.”

“If you say so, but he would still drive me loco,” he repeated.

She stuck her index finger into his chest and gave it a slight jab. “He’s my friend. You be nice.”

Andrés shook his head. “I have to go anyway. I’ll see you tonight.”

“You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you? Your business in the city, what’s it about?”

He kissed her on the cheek. “We speak tonight. Go and see your friend. He appears as if he is about to wet his pants.” He laughed.

Nikki glanced back over at Simon, who was doing some kind of little dance. She figured it was to the Peruvian beat. For a gay man, Simon had zero rhythm. He waved her over and before she could stop Andrés from leaving and question him further, he headed out of the courtyard. She made her way over to Simon.

“Hi, Goldilocks. I saw you over there talking to your Spaniard. He is so divine.” He puckered his lips and kissed the air.

Nikki smacked him on the arm. Andrés
did
have a point about Simon being annoying. The one thing about Derek’s brother was, even though she loved him and he’d become one of her best friends in the last year, he really could be as irritating as nails on a chalkboard at times. “Do you like my new do? I think it’s kind of Stingish. He’s so sexy. I bought his new album the other day. You should get it. It’ll put you in the mood.”

Nikki rolled her eyes at him.

“Oh, oh, oh. Wait a minute. What is this? News flash! No!” He ran his hand through his newly platinum spiked locks and made a face. “You and the Spaniard
haven’t
been playing nasty, have you? What in God’s name is wrong with you? I would have had him swinging on a chandelier by now. My God, you’ve been seeing him for what, two months, at least? Goldilocks. I guess I can’t call you that anymore. Hmmm, maybe Snow White. Oh God, why did you change your hair? It’s totally ruined my nickname for you. Anyway, you need to get busy, girl. I hate to say it, but you aren’t getting any younger and some other Miss Thing is gonna come along and get with it.”

Yep. Just like nails down a chalkboard. “My sex life is none of your concern.”

“Hmmm. I think it is. You need some lessons in love, Goldilocks. I’m still gonna call you that. Even with the dark hair thing going on, which I have to tell you
is
working. Really it is. So, vamp the rest of it up and let’s get that love life in full swing. All you need is a pep talk and there are no two people better than me and my Marco to give you the facts of life on what men want and need.” He shook a finger at her. “Oh yeah, baby. I know you have that innocent thing going for you with those green eyes, your flawless complexion—what do you use on that skin of yours anyway? And your knit sweater sets that add to the girl-next-door image have got to go, because I know lurking behind all of that fluff is a woman, a
W
.
O
.
M
.
A
.
N
.”

“Don’t you have to go and give someone a spa treatment or something?”

“Oh God, no. I run the place. I don’t do treatments. I do host the nine a.m. and four p.m. meditations, though. You should come. We can do a visualization thingy. The Guru Sansibaba says that anger is only pent-up sexual anxiety. Once you get in
touch
with that inner Goddess you’ll be free. Free to fly like the wind, my friend,” he sang out.

“I need a glass of wine. I told you I don’t want to hear that Guru Sansibaba crap,” Nikki replied. The Guru Sansibaba was a New Age kook that Simon and Marco found while on hiatus in Sedona, Arizona. They’d gone in as two materialistic, pompous gay men and had come out as two materialistic, pompous gay men who now believed they could balance people’s chakras and spout New Age wisdom courtesy of their famous guru. Man, if she could ever get her hands around that freakazoid’s neck . . . However, their return from Sedona prompted them to get more involved at the winery and vineyard, and they’d even come up with the idea of opening the hotel and spa on an area of land where the grapes didn’t grow too well.

“You don’t need wine, honey. You need to get busy with the Spaniard.”

“Can we talk about this later?”

He sighed and looked at his watch. “I think we’re going to have to. Marco has me scheduled for the grapeseed facial.”

“Wait a minute, you’re going to get a spa treatment while people are coming in and out of here like this is a zoo? I’m sure your help is needed.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her hand. “Oh Goldilocks, I tell you, it pays to be the boss. There are perks. And, to run a tight ship in the spa, which is my job, I should probably try out the treatments on a regular basis to make sure it’s what we want here at the Malveaux Inn. See you at that meditation; we’ll work through that pent-up angst.” He winked at her.

Blah! Not just nails on a chalkboard, but the alarm clock on the nightstand at the crack of dawn, when Jose Cuervo was the best friend of choice the night before.

Another thought crossed Nikki’s mind. Was Simon so annoying with his suggestions of taking her relationship to another level with Andrés because maybe he had a point? Was it time to give up her crush on Derek and take a leap with Andrés? Too much introspection to deal with at the moment. She had an eccentric chef to tend to. Hopefully, things were running smoothly at the restaurant and no one had pissed Georges off on opening day, or vice versa. Georges wasn’t necessarily known for his couth, and already a handful of employees who’d originally been staffed at the restaurant had either been fired by Georges or had quit. Napa Valley was basically a small town in the scheme of things and Georges was quickly becoming the topic of choice for the gossip circles. It was one way to attract customers—come to Georges on the Vineyard and meet the quirky chef. Hmmm, one could cross her fingers and hope everything would go off without a hitch tonight, but the knot in the pit of Nikki’s stomach told her it was doubtful.

Pissaladiere with
Clos du Bois Shiraz

 

Hosting your own wine tasting can be a lot of fun. Nikki would say that the best tastings go well with friends. Invite a dozen friends and ask that each bring a bottle of wine. Suggest on the invites which varietals, so that you don’t get a dozen Chardonnays. Also ask if everyone could bring an appetizer that they might pair with the wine. If your guests aren’t sure what that might be, then do the homework for them. There are many sites online, including ones from the various wineries that also have recipe sections that make suggestions for the wines. Have each guest bring the dish and a copy of the recipe so that you all go home with twelve new fabulous recipes and wine pairings for future reference.

When hosting a wine tasting remind your guests to use all of their senses. In a well-lit room, hold your wine glass up to a white background. The color of the wine should be clear and intense, coming from the contact of the juice and grape during the wine-making process. Whites, depending on varietals, can be light green, clear, straw yellow, or gold with a slightly brown hue. Sweeter white wines start off with a deeper yellow.

Red wines may be purple, ruby, or blood red. As red wine ages, it will lose color and appear more brick brown. Blush wines like dry rosés or white zinfandels are pink.

For the special event at the Malveaux Inn and Spa, Nikki paired the Estate Syrah with a Pissaladiere, a.k.a. French-style, white pizza. Since Malveaux Estate Wines can only be found in Nikki’s world, another she suggested trying with this recipe is Clos du Bois Shiraz. The Sonoma County Shiraz is a full-flavored wine that pairs well with a wide range of foods. It’s reminiscent of the Australian Shiraz, with rich flavors of berries that include raspberry, blackberry, and a hint of blueberry. On the back palate the wine leaves the impression of spice, fennel, and black pepper.

 

Preheat oven to 400°. Spread Alouette on pizza crust. Arrange onions and olives on top of cheese. Sprinkle with olive oil, herbs, and Parmesan. Bake for 10-15 minutes. Cut into 8 slices and serve immediately. Serves 4-6.

Chapter 2

Nikki walked through the lobby of the inn on her way to meet Georges at the restaurant. The inn resembled a Mediterranean villa with a central cloistered courtyard that served as a reception area, lounge, café, and wine bar. The rooms were mainly on the second story, all with sweeping views of the estate’s vineyard. There were thirty rooms divided and located among three separate courtyards. The pathways at night were lit by candles on patio stakes, bouncing shadows off the sand-colored walls. To walk through the serene gardens and past the waterfalls throughout the courtyards was nothing less than spectacular.

A pianist played one of Norah Jones’s hits in the golden lobby of the inn. Outside the lobby was a stone pathway that led up the hill to the restaurant. As Nikki entered Georges on the Vineyard, she caught sight of the view through the windows. The restaurant had been built on the hillside to take full advantage of the vistas a few hundred feet from the hotel. Patrons could hike the steep path up to the restaurant or choose to be chauffeured in one of the vineyard’s golf carts. Nikki had chosen the hike, having missed out on her morning run. As she stepped into the foyer, she turned to look out at the view. She sighed. It never ceased to amaze her: the greens, golds, ambers, and shades of red and purple that took hold of the valley and brought it to life like an earth-toned rainbow, never to be duplicated by man’s hand.

The clinging and clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen broke her reverie. She entered the kitchen to the scene of a half dozen men and women, their heads topped with chef beanies, working at a frantic pace chopping and dicing, and Georges Debussey yelling at all of them.
“No, no, noo!”
he hollered at a young woman at the pastry counter, who appeared to be blending cream. “Sacre bleu. You do not beat le crème? Where did you go to school? Are you an
imbecile
? I do not remember you. Did I hire you? Who are you?” The young woman looked up at him, her dark eyes brimming with tears. “
No, no, no
. Do not cry in my kitchen.” He took the blender from her. “Like this. You do it like this.
Oui?
” He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, monsieur,” the young woman said, and as what seemed to be an afterthought, “My name is Bridgette.”

“Ah, well, Bridgette, you must do as I do in my kitchen.
Comprends?
”

“Yes, I understand,” she replied.

Georges moved on and stood over a man rinsing dried porcini mushrooms. “Nice.
Bon
. Good. Those will be perfect in the
Daube de Boef aux Cèpes et à l’Orange
.” He then turned and caught Nikki’s eye. “
Mon Dieu
. Who do we have here?” He spread his arms out as if he’d just seen a long lost friend.

Nikki had learned that this was the way Georges greeted everyone. She’d become his “new best friend” after working with him on the cookbook he’d done in conjunction with Derek. Nikki’s participation in the project had been to take notes for Derek about the vineyard, winery, and wines produced at Malveaux, compile them, write them out in text format, and pass them on to Georges, who then took the notes and fit them into the cookbook. It had been a fun project to work on and Nikki had discovered during it that writing was something she enjoyed. She’d had to meet with Georges at his restaurant in the city a few times in regard to the book, and although he’d always been a bit off the wall, he’d also been fun to be around. He always had a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes, even when scolding the underlings working for him. Right now that look was directed at Nikki. He licked his thin lips.