Death with All the Trimmings: A Key West Food Critic Mystery

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9780451465900: Death with All the Trimmings: A Key West Food Critic Mystery

The only snow in Key West this Christmas is Hayley Snow, food critic for Key Zest magazine, who is not getting time off for the holiday...or time off from murder.

It may be Christmastime, but thoughts of peace on earth, good will toward men, don’t seem to extend to the restaurant biz. Hayley has been assigned to interview Edel Waugh, chef/owner of Key West’s hottest new restaurant. But off the record, Edel reveals someone’s sabotaging her kitchen and asks Hayley to investigate.

Things heat up fast when the restaurant is set on fire—and a body is discovered in the charred wreckage. Is someone out to destroy the chef’s business—or actually kill her? Amid holiday festivities like the lighted boat parade and visiting relatives who stir up mixed emotions, Hayley needs to smoke out an arsonist and a killer who may turn up the heat on her next...

INCLUDES RECIPES!

Le informazioni nella sezione "Riassunto" possono far riferimento a edizioni diverse di questo titolo.

About the Author:

Clinical psychologist Roberta Isleib, aka Lucy Burdette, has had twelve previous mysteries published, including Murder with Ganache, Topped Chef, Death in Four Courses, and An Appetite for Murder in the national bestselling Key West Food Critic Mystery series. Her books and stories have been short-listed for Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity awards.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

PRAISE FOR
THE KEY WEST FOOD CRITIC MYSTERY SERIES

Key West Food Critic Mysteries
by Lucy Burdette

OBSIDIAN

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

1

Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

—Jackson Brown and H. Jackson Brown Jr., Life’s Little Instruction Book

My cell phone bleated from the deck outside, where I’d left it to avoid procrastinating via text messages, Facebook updates, or simply lounging in the glorious December sunshine with our resident cats, watching the world go by. The biggest interview of my career as a food critic was scheduled for this afternoon and I wanted—no, needed—to be ready.

Miss Gloria, my senior citizen houseboat mate, hollered from her rocking chair overlooking the water. “It’s your mother. Shall I answer?”

“Mind telling her I’ll call back in an hour?”

Miss Gloria would relish the opportunity to chat with her anyway, and maybe her intercession would slash my time on the phone with Mom in half when I returned the call. I am crazy about my mother, honest. But it had still been a shock when she announced she’d rented a place in Key West for the winter season. Wouldn’t it be so much fun to spend Christmas in paradise together? And New Year’s . . . and Martin Luther King Day . . . and Valentine’s Day? You get the picture. Mom had followed Diana Nyad’s attempts to swim from Cuba to Key West with rapt attention. When Diana overcame sharks, jellyfish, rough water, and advancing age to complete her 110-mile swim on her fifth try, at age sixty-four, Mom took it personally.

“Diana says we should never give up,” she announced on the phone a couple of months ago. “Why not ‘be bold, be fiercely bold and go out and chase your dreams’?

My mother had been a little down since the summer because her fledgling catering company had not taken off the way she’d hoped. Although she’s an amazing and inventive cook, the business part of owning a business eluded her. For her first five catering events, cooking with only the highest-quality ingredients, she’d lost money rather than made it. A lot of money. Even her newish boyfriend, Sam, who was supportive beyond any reasonable expectation and categorically opposed to meddling, had suggested she take a few steps back and reconsider her plan.

“Why not? You should go for your dream, too,” I remember saying. “That’s exactly what you told me when I lost my bearings: Keep putting yourself out in the universe, and eventually the wind will fill your sails.” I stopped myself from trotting out more metaphysical tropes. I hadn’t wanted to hear too much advice when I was feeling down; Mom probably didn’t want mine, either. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking of coming to Key West for the winter!”

Whoa. If that was her dream, who was I to stop her? But my big solo adventure on this island was about to turn into How I Met Your Mother.

Half an hour after the phone call, Miss Gloria came inside to report on her conversation with Mom, our two cats padding behind. I stroked my striped gray boy, Evinrude, from ears to tail, his fur warm from basking in the sun. His purr box caught and sputtered to life.

“She’s hoping we can swing by in half an hour to look at her condo and have a little lunch,” Miss Gloria said. “Sam is flying in later tonight, so this may be her best shot at girls-only time for a while. And then she starts her job with Small Chef at Large on Monday. Jennifer’s already assigned her to head up a couple of the Christmas parties they’re catering.”

Exhibit two: my mother’s new job with Small Chef. You had to give her credit for sheer brass guts. How long had it taken me to land my position as food critic at Key Zest? A couple of months at least. And lots of groveling and dozens of sample restaurant reviews. Key West is chockablock with talented, overqualified folks who swarm every decent job opening like roaches to crumbs. And yet my mother had landed a position with the premier caterer in town after meeting her once, at my best friend Connie’s wedding reception last spring. She’d been here only a week, but I suspected she was already best friends with half the natives on the island. She’d probably be designated an Honorary Conch at the next city commission meeting.

“Give me fifteen minutes to finish this up and we’ll go,” I told Miss Gloria.

Today I was interviewing Edel Waugh, chef-owner of the new Key West restaurant Bistro on the Bight. I skimmed the review her New York restaurant, Arnica, had scored in the New York Times last spring. Overall, the review glowed with praise, but Paul Woolston, the critic, had ended with this punch to the gut: “With bad blood between the ex-husband and -wife co-owners of Arnica, one wonders when—not if—their personal poison will seep into their food.”

I tweaked the list of questions to ask Edel when we met later, then changed out of my sweats and into a pair of slim-fitting black jeans and a red swing shirt that drew the eye away from the waistline and matched my sneakers. Christmas, just two weeks away, was the one time of year that I broke my own rule about not wearing red because it clashed with my auburn hair. Miss Gloria was waiting for me on the deck, dressed in the first of a deep rotation of Christmas sweatshirts, this one spangled with sequins and glitter-dusted reindeer.

“You look so cute!” we said at the same time.

We locked the cats up in the houseboat—things get a little dicier on the island during the high season, with an uptick in partying visitors and in the homeless population—and headed down the dock to the parking lot, where I keep my scooter. Miss Gloria began to sing “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” as she fastened her pink helmet and swung her leg over the bike. As we puttered down Southard Street to the end of the island, Miss G pointed out which Conch houses had been newly decorated for the season. The specialty here, of course, being white lights wound around the trunks of the palm trees. Who could be grumpy on a day like this?

Ten minutes later, we rolled past the wrought-iron gates and the guardhouse that mark the entrance to the Truman Annex complex, and took a right onto Noah Lane, the last developed street before the Navy’s harbor, aka the mole. My mother could not have afforded a seasonal rental in this neighborhood, except that her boyfriend, Sam, had gotten excited about a winter getaway and bankrolled a nice house just blocks from my ex Chad Lutz’s condo. When the gates closed at six p.m., there was only one way out of the neighborhood; it would be hard to avoid him. If I wasn’t already inured to running into Lutz the Putz, I would be by Easter, when Mom headed north.

Mom came bursting out of the front door onto her new home’s wide wooden porch and hugged us both. “My two favorite ladies,” she yelped. “I’ve made chicken salad and cupcakes. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour and we can eat out by the pool.”

“I can’t stay long,” I told her. “I have an interview set up with the chef at Bistro on the Bight.”

“The restaurant opening on the harbor!” Mom said. “I read about it in the Citizen. I can’t believe my favorite chef in the world will be right here in Key West. I’m dying to eat her food again. Any chance—”

“Sorry, Mom.” I cut her off and grinned. “I’m happy to share a lot of things with you, but not my job.”

I’m the food critic for the Key West style magazine Key Zest. It’s complicated because we have only four people on staff. One of them, the co-owner Ava Faulkner, despises me and would happily slash me from the masthead at the first opportunity. Next is Danielle, our administrative assistant, who manages all the online intricacies of the magazine and scrambles to keep the whole project from sinking under the weight of Ava’s negativity. And last but not least is my editor Wally Beile, who makes my heartstrings and other body parts twang in a most unprofessional way. Though with his own mother dying of cancer, I hadn’t seen much of him lately.

Afraid I’d hurt my mother’s feelings, I sputtered a little more explanation. “I don’t think bringing my mother along on the interview would give the appearance that I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay, honey,” she said, “I don’t have time, anyway. I’ll catch up with her another time.” Then she gripped my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “I swear, Hayley Catherine Snow, I will not cramp your style while I’m here.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’m sure there’s room for two Snow women on this island.” I wasn’t sure, really, but I was going to try hard to make it work. Because the truth was, she had always been my biggest fan, and she was a lot of fun besides. And, let’s face it, utterly out of my control.

She spun away, leading us into a spacious living room furnished with expensive rattan furniture, cushioned with pillows covered in pale linen fabric patterned with palm fronds. The kitchen was even more magnificent—a bright yellow-and-white-tiled space that included a six-burner gas range, two dishwashers, two ovens, a wine chiller, a bread warmer, and a center island topped in green granite that made me vibrate with envy.

“You could throw one heck of a party here,” I said, as we followed my mother onto the back porch. White rattan chaise longues overlooked a perfect little dipping pool shaded by palm trees with an elegant waterfall at the far end.

“Wait until you hear how many events Jennifer has me working,” Mom said. “She wants me in the kitchen a couple of days a week, of course, but she’s already put me in charge of two parties. I’m developing the menu for tomorrow—a Southern belle’s Christmas luncheon. I’m thinking curried chicken salad with grapes and pecans, and a green salad, and then for the ladies who don’t eschew carbs, big buttermilk biscuits and maybe Scarlett O’Hara cupcakes.”

“Oh swoon,” said Miss Gloria. “No one in her right mind is going to eschew those carbs. What is a Scarlett O’Hara cupcake?”

“It has to be red velvet, don’t you think?” I asked.

“Maybe with raspberry cream cheese frosting? That’s what I tried out this morning. We’ll see if you approve.” Mom led us to the table, which she’d set with shimmery gold place mats, tan polka-dot napkins, and white plates. A bright orange bird of paradise swooped from a clear glass vase at the center for contrast.

“Watch out Martha Stewart,” Miss Gloria said with a cackle. “You are so clever. It already looks like you’ve lived here forever!”

We loaded our plates in the kitchen and brought them out to the poolside table. Mom slid a platter of the pink-icing-slathered cupcakes in the center, to remind us to save room. I spread a thin layer of honeyed butter onto a warm biscuit, admiring the tiny flecks of green scallion in the dough, and then bit into it.

“Oh my gosh, these are the best,” I said, and then tasted the chicken. “And the curry is exactly right—a little bite but not enough to put anyone off.”

Miss Gloria only rolled her eyes and moaned with pleasure.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Mom said when we were halfway through lunch. “I almost forgot to tell you the other news. You remember my cousin Chuck? His daughter, Cassie, is a pro golfer. She and her husband are popping down to the island for a couple of days this week and I’ve insisted they stay with me. And weren’t you going to make a dinner reservation at Latitudes when Sam’s here this weekend? Would it be a problem to add two more people?”

“Not really,” I said, though more people made it challenging to concentrate and harder to manage. “As long as they don’t mind me ordering and tasting their food.”

Latitudes is the restaurant on Sunset Key, the small private island a stone’s throw from Mallory Square, at the very bottom of Key West. Dinner guests have to make a reservation well ahead and then take a water taxi to the island. For me, this dinner would be work more than pleasure, as I’d been assigned to review the restaurant for the next issue of Key Zest. I couldn’t afford to take a second trip over—I had to get what I needed in one visit.

“I know they’ll get a kick out of a little window into your world,” Mom said. She bit into one of the cupcakes, sighed with satisfaction, and patted her lips with her napkin. “I also set up a tee time at the Key West golf course for Cassie and her husband, Joe, and Eric and you. I invited Eric because he and Joe are both psychologists so I figured they would hit it off. I know Eric played a little as a teenager. Your muscle memory doesn’t forget that kind of history, right?”

This was crazy in so many ways that I was struck dumb. Well, almost dumb. “Back up a minute. I don’t play golf,” I managed to squeak, because I couldn’t say the things that really came to mind. Out loud. To my mother. In front of Miss G.

Mom laughed, a silvery peal that meant she’d started marching down a path and would not be deviating from it. “How hard could it be? And, besides, Cassie’s a pro. I’m sure she’ll be happy to give you some pointers.”

2

Revenge is like serving cold cuts.

—Tony Soprano

As you might expect from our island’s near-Caribbean status, Key West restaurants tend to be casual, with wide-plank floors, doors thrown open to the outdoors, and waiters with tattoos, cutoffs, and weathered faces. Bistro on the Bight had not adopted this trend. The designers had set the eatery apart with clean, spare decor heavy on stainless steel, copper trim, and leather. Orchids bloomed purple and pink on every table, and I noticed no funky odors—almost unavoidable in a humid climate when a place had been around awhile. I jotted a few notes on my phone and waved to the server, who emerged from the swinging door that I figured must lead to the kitchen. He was clean-shaven, dressed in a full-body white apron with all black underneath, as though he might have just flown in from New York City. Black is not big on this island.

“I have an appointment with Ms. Waugh. I’m Hayley Snow.”

“The chef is expecting you,” the server said, and led me to a table for two in the far corner of the room, near the kitchen. “Can I bring you a beverage?”

“No, thanks,” I said, pointing to the BPA-free water bottle clipped to the side of my backpack. I was still swimming from a second glass of my mother’s Arnold Palmer—half lemonade, half iced tea, and one of the drinks in the running for her southern Christmas party menu. “I’d love to look at the menu while I’m waiting, though.”

He crossed the room to the hostess stand and returned with a crisp linen folder.

“She’ll be with you shortly.”

As he exited through the swinging door, I heard a voice from the kitchen, feminine yet husky with intensity: “This is not rocket science. You need to prepare it exactly as I showed you yesterday. Our customers don’t want a new adventure every time they order a dish—they want what they loved last time and the time before. Exactly as the recipe is written. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Chef,” chorused a few voices.

I began to peruse the pristine pages of the menu and was immediately drawn to the shrimp salad with fennel and orange and a roaste...

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Descrizione libro Penguin Putnam Inc, United States, 2014. Paperback. Condizione libro: New. Language: English . Brand New Book. The only snow in Key West this Christmas is Hayley Snow, food critic for Key Zest magazine, who is not getting time off for the holiday.or time off from murder. It may be Christmastime, but thoughts of peace on earth, good will toward men, don t seem to extend to the restaurant biz. Hayley has been assigned to interview Edel Waugh, chef/owner of Key West s hottest new restaurant. But off the record, Edel reveals someone s sabotaging her kitchen and asks Hayley to investigate. Things heat up fast when the restaurant is set on fire--and a body is discovered in the charred wreckage. Is someone out to destroy the chef s business--or actually kill her? Amid holiday festivities like the lighted boat parade and visiting relatives who stir up mixed emotions, Hayley needs to smoke out an arsonist and a killer who may turn up the heat on her next. INCLUDES RECIPES!. Codice libro della libreria AAS9780451465900

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Descrizione libro U.S.A.: Signet, 2014. Soft cover. Condizione libro: New. 1st Edition. 2014. Mass Market Paperback Original. First Printing. A "Key West food critic Mystery". Cozy. From the author of "Murder with Ganache." The only snow in Key West this Christmas is Hayley Snow, food critic for Key Zest magazine, who is not getting time off for the holiday…or time off from murder. It may be Christmastime, but thoughts of peace on earth, good will toward men, don’t seem to extend to the restaurant biz. Hayley has been assigned to interview Edel Waugh, chef/owner of Key West’s hottest new restaurant. But off the record, Edel reveals someone’s sabotaging her kitchen and asks Hayley to investigate. Things heat up fast when the restaurant is set on fire—and a body is discovered in the charred wreckage. Is someone out to destroy the chef’s business—or actually kill her? Amid holiday festivities like the lighted boat parade and visiting relatives who stir up mixed emotions, Hayley needs to smoke out an arsonist and a killer who may turn up the heat on her next. INCLUDE RECIPES. Mint in full color wraps. Codice libro della libreria 7664

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Descrizione libro Penguin Putnam Inc, United States, 2014. Paperback. Condizione libro: New. Language: English . Brand New Book. The only snow in Key West this Christmas is Hayley Snow, food critic for Key Zest magazine, who is not getting time off for the holiday.or time off from murder. It may be Christmastime, but thoughts of peace on earth, good will toward men, don t seem to extend to the restaurant biz. Hayley has been assigned to interview Edel Waugh, chef/owner of Key West s hottest new restaurant. But off the record, Edel reveals someone s sabotaging her kitchen and asks Hayley to investigate. Things heat up fast when the restaurant is set on fire--and a body is discovered in the charred wreckage. Is someone out to destroy the chef s business--or actually kill her? Amid holiday festivities like the lighted boat parade and visiting relatives who stir up mixed emotions, Hayley needs to smoke out an arsonist and a killer who may turn up the heat on her next. INCLUDES RECIPES!. Codice libro della libreria AAS9780451465900

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Descrizione libro Berkley Books 12/2/2014, 2014. Paperback or Softback. Condizione libro: New. Death with All the Trimmings. Book. Codice libro della libreria BBS-9780451465900

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Descrizione libro Penguin Putnam Inc, United States, 2014. Paperback. Condizione libro: New. Language: English . This book usually ship within 10-15 business days and we will endeavor to dispatch orders quicker than this where possible. Brand New Book. The only snow in Key West this Christmas is Hayley Snow, food critic for Key Zest magazine, who is not getting time off for the holiday.or time off from murder. It may be Christmastime, but thoughts of peace on earth, good will toward men, don t seem to extend to the restaurant biz. Hayley has been assigned to interview Edel Waugh, chef/owner of Key West s hottest new restaurant. But off the record, Edel reveals someone s sabotaging her kitchen and asks Hayley to investigate. Things heat up fast when the restaurant is set on fire--and a body is discovered in the charred wreckage. Is someone out to destroy the chef s business--or actually kill her? Amid holiday festivities like the lighted boat parade and visiting relatives who stir up mixed emotions, Hayley needs to smoke out an arsonist and a killer who may turn up the heat on her next. INCLUDES RECIPES!. Codice libro della libreria BTE9780451465900

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