The Nantucket Diet Murders (36 page)

“Remember the three-day one with cottage cheese and
sliced canned peaches for every meal?” Mary Lynne asked. “You got a toasted RyKrisp with it if you felt too awfully deprived. I could lose five pounds in those three days every time.”

“The real crash was the airline pilots’ diet,” Gussie recalled. “I can’t remember much about it except that it was a killer and you only had three or four hundred calories a day. That was for when you absolutely
had
to be ten pounds thinner by Saturday, to fit into something or other.”

“Tiger milk!”
Mrs. Potter exclaimed. “That was the forerunner of all the Metrecal things, only you mixed it up yourself. Instant dried milk and eggs and salad oil and whatever else I can’t remember. It was drinkable, but a terrible bore. After a day or so you began to think you’d beg on the streets for something to
chew.”

“Another one I used to fall for,” Mary Lynne admitted, “was the one where if you were absolutely dying for one particular thing, like a hot fudge sundae, it was all right to have one. You just had a hot fudge sundae, nothing else, for one meal. After that supposedly you were calmed down enough to go back to the lettuce and carrot sticks.”

“Remember the Drinking Man’s Diet?” Gussie asked. “Genia and I thought that was a dandy for a while.”

“Sort of like the Doctor’s Quick Weight Loss, wasn’t it, except with a martini before dinner?” Mrs. Potter said. “It was mostly proteins, which Lew thought was great for the cattle business and the ranch. Breakfast could be a big cheese omelet as long as you didn’t have any toast with it; lunch could be all kinds of cold meats and mayonnaise and a handful of salted nuts; dinner, lots of steak and not much else. Maybe you got a little jaundiced after a week or so, but you could count on losing ten or twelve pounds in two weeks on that one.”

“Until the next two weeks, when it started coming back pretty fast,” Gussie recalled cheerfully. “My choice was the one with sherry and prunes—remember, Genia?”

“A glass of sherry with every meal,” Mrs. Potter said, “including breakfast. I can’t remember which meal was which—
one was six stewed prunes, one was two hard-boiled eggs, and one was a small steak. I suppose it didn’t much matter.”

“The Scarsdale Diet wasn’t bad, do you think?” Leah asked. “One of the restaurants here on the island made quite a good thing of that for a while. It was really my favorite for a long while, although I certainly didn’t like Dr. Tarnower.”

“You know, I’m going to do an article on all this and see if
Éclat
will buy it,” Dee said. “A sort of summing up of all the diets we’ve lived through—the works. While I’m at it, I might include everybody’s favorite all-time diet tips.”

“Mine would be simple,” Gussie said. “Don’t eat anything out of the package, and don’t eat standing up. Put it on a plate, look at it, and then sit down to eat it nicely, if you’re going to eat it at all.”

“Always say you don’t eat candy unless it’s
white,”
Leah offered. “That’s almost foolproof. How often do you see divinity these days, anyway?”

Mrs. Potter interrupted. “That sort of contradicts another diet I just remembered,” she said. “One of those calories don’t count ones. You ate pretty much what you wanted to as long as you
didn’t
eat anything white. Or anything that had any white ingredients—flour, sugar, milk, rice, bread, pasta. Remember that one?”

“I’ve learned to cut a sandwich in thirds, drugstore style,” Mittie said, returning to the subject of diet lips. “You cut off one corner to make a triangle. Then you put your knife on the opposite corner and cut the rest in two. Plain halves never look like much, and four quarters look like four bites. This way you’re convinced you’ve got a sandwich and a half.”

Mary Lynne spoke soberly. “We’ve got to remember that we’re going to slip once in a while. My advice is this—don’t finish it, just because you started. The very minute you can stop gobbling, throw the stuff out, whatever it is, or drown it under cold water in the sink. You’ll have to feel guilty about a few hundred little old calories, maybe, but not about
thousands
.”

Mrs. Potter saw that Dee was looking at her expectantly. “The best thing I know
is
to brush my teeth three times a day,
just as soon as I can after every meal,” she said. “My dentist is very happy with me, and he says I’m probably saving myself some expensive periodontal work later on. It’s the best safeguard I know against eating between meals—it simply makes it too much trouble.”

She looked at Dee. “And what’s yours?” she asked. “Although I can’t believe you ever needed to diet.”

“Don’t be silly,” Dee replied. “I learned mine the hard way, too, and a long time ago. It’s just this:
Don’t eat when you aren’t hungry
. If you think you are, maybe you’re just thirsty—
drink a glass of water
. Maybe you’re just tired—
do something else
, like taking a walk if you’ve been working at your desk. You may just need to go to the bathroom—go. You might be putting off something you should be doing—
do it
. Just don’t get mixed up, that’s all I say, about what’s sending you signals.”

“That one’s great,” Gussie said. “Now, how about a glass of wine?”

As she passed the tray of filled glasses, she momentarily offered a new topic. “Did we tell you all that we finally showed up for our Portuguese bread lesson?” she asked. “You’ll love it! There we were, Genia and I, on a couple of straight chairs in the middle of the big bakery kitchen. Standing up in front and obviously expecting us to take notes, was our young Harvard MBA.”

“With a lecture on the action of yeast and gluten,” Mrs. Potter added. “This came after we’d been shown all the giant commercial mixers and the big bake ovens and the cupboards with specially controlled humidity. For what he called ‘proofing,’ which is what we call letting the bread rise.”

“We acted terribly interested, of course,” Gussie continued, “since Hans had been nice enough to make time for us. I mostly just enjoyed watching Mary Rezendes. She sat in a chair beside where Hans was standing, and she kept beaming up at him and once in a while patting his hand.”

“It was rather warm,” Mrs. Potter went on, “and I found myself pressing my fingernails into my palms trying to keep from nodding.”

“The only really interesting part was that Hans’s father came in at the end,” Gussie said. “He’s here on a visit from St. Louis to look over the operations. I could see he’s delighted with everything. In fact, he seemed to be fascinated by Nantucket, and I think he may be staying on for a bit.”

Mrs. Potter was inwardly groaning at the thought of another wonderful man in Gussie’s life. If Gussie became Mrs. Klaus Muller (it was possible—Helen had said he was a widower), she would become Hans Muller’s stepmother. If Hans and Mary got married, she would be Mary’s stepmother-in-law. Stepmother-in-law to her cleaning lady’s granddaughter, and step-something to Manny, when he got back from his Fort Lauderdale condominium in the spring. Only Gussie could manage this social tangle gracefully. She would always bet on Gussie. And Teresa.

“That ends the chapter on learning to bake Portuguese bread,” Mrs. Potter said, trying not to think about these complications. “There’s one other piece of news. February is time to prune roses at the ranch. Gussie already knows—I’m leaving tomorrow on the early plane for Boston, and then to head west.”

As she spoke, she thought of mountain valleys of pale winter topaz, of blue cloudless skies, of mountains holding violet shadows at sunset, of cold nights and dry, bright sunny days. She could hear the morning question of the Mexican doves in the tall pine trees around the ranch house.
Who cooks for you?
they’d be asking.
Who cooks for you?

What Mrs. Potter did not know was that the Gulf Stream was bringing a Tuesday of fog, grounding all planes from the island. Gussie would be waving at the morning boat as it rounded Brant Point, and she would be scrabbling in her lighthouse basket for pennies.

PETER’S SCRIMSHAW INN RUM PIE

Combine
1 ¼ c. milk, ½ c. sugar
, and
¼ t. salt
and bring to boil. Mix
⅜ c. milk, 3 T. flour, 2 T. cornstarch
, and
2 egg yolks
and add boiling mixture slowly. Return to saucepan, cook slowly, stirring until thick. Cook slightly, beat in
½ t. vanilla, 3 T. butter
, and
2 T. dark Myers’s rum
. Turn into
baked 9” graham cracker crust
and chill. Top with
whipped cream
and
grated bittersweet chocolate
.

GUSSIE’S CRANBERRY CHEESE NUT BREAD

Chop
1 c. cranberries
. (Freeze quickly first, put through coarse chopper blade.) Cream 2 T.
shortening
, beat in
1 egg
and
¾ c. orange juice
. Sift and add
2 c. flour, 1 c. sugar, 1 ½ t. baking powder, ½ t. soda
, and
½ t. salt
. Stir in cranberries,
1 c. grated cheddar cheese
and
½ c. chopped walnuts
or
pecans
. Turn into one large loaf pan or two smaller, bake 40–60 min. at 350°. Cool, slice with sharp knife.

BO HEIDECKER: TENNESSEE MOUNTAIN STICKIES

Melt
5 T. butter
in a heavy 10” skillet (in an “iron spider” on Lookout Mountain) with
1 ¼ c. brown sugar
. Prepare dough, using
2 c. biscuit mix
and ⅔
c. milk
. Turn out on floured board, knead lightly, roll to rectangle about 8 × 12. Spread with most of sugar mixture, roll as for jelly roll, cut in 1” slices. Arrange in same skillet and pour
boiling water
to barely cover. Bake uncovered for 30 min. at 350° until brown and bubbling. Serve hot or cold, without cream, in cereal or berry bowls.

JULES BERNER: GUSSIE’S SOUR CREAM APPLE PANCAKES

Peel and thinly slice
2 firm tart
apples and brown gently in
2 T. butter
. Whisk together
¼ c. milk, 2 T. sour cream, ¼ c. flour, ¼ t. salt
, and 2
egg yolks;
fold in
2 egg whites
, stiffly beaten. Arrange a fourth of apple slices with
1 t. butter
on hot griddle or skillet at 375°, and cover with a fourth of the batter. Fry until golden, turn carefully. Sprinkle with
sugar
and keep warm until all are cooked. Serve with additional
sour cream
.

NANTUCKET CRANBERRY CUP PUDDINGS

Mix
1 c. sugar
with
2 c. flour
sifted with 2 ½ t.
baking powder
. Stir in
⅔ c. milk, 1 egg
, and
3 T. melted butter
, then
2 c. cranberries
. Fill 12 greased muffin cups, bake 20–25 min. at 350°. Serve hot (or reheated) with old-fashioned pudding sauce: Heat in double boiler
½ c. butter, ¾ c. cream
, and
1 c. sugar;
add
brandy
to taste.

LEW POTTER: MOCHA WALNUT TORTE

Beat
6 egg whites
and ½ t.
cream of tartar
to soft peaks, gradually beat in
½ c. sugar;
set aside. Combine
6 egg yolks, 6 T. strong cold coffee
, and 1 t.
vanilla
. Gradually add sifted dry ingredients:
1 ½ c. flour, ½
t.
salt, 1 t. baking powder
, and
1 c. sugar
. Beat well. Gently fold into beaten whites, along with
1 c. broken walnuts
. Spoon into ungreased 10” tube pan, bake 40–45 min. at 375°. Invert until cool, remove from pan. Slice in thirds crosswise, fill and frost with
2 c. cream
, whipped, flavored to taste with
chocolate syrup
.