Cook the Books

know? I knew everything about Adrianna!
    “It’s an online group. A discussion board, really, and we just post messages back and forth about what life is like with a new baby. I thought I’d told you. There are some really nice people on there, except that we are all so deliriously tired that our typing tends to be filled with typos and made-up abbreviations. Anyhow, Kyle, this really is a treat, so thank you again for letting me impose.”
    Kyle smiled kindly at her. “The more people we have to taste the food at Oracle, the better the book will be.”
    The server returned to take our orders, and Ade and I insisted that Kyle choose for the table. The fall season meant that delicious upscale comfort food dominated the menu. I was looking forward to the pumpkin and apple bisque that came with caramelized apples and croutons, and there was a watermelon antipasto with prosciutto and fresh mozzarella that sounded unusual and fabulous. No one but a chef could get good watermelon in November. Especially in my all-but-bankrupt state, I envied chefs for being able to order any ingredients they wanted and charge everything to their restaurants.
    Kyle reached under the table and retrieved a thick accordion folder that he passed to me. “I... um, well, this is what I have. I’m mortified that I have to show this to you, but I suppose you’d figure out how disorganized I am on your own anyhow.” He shrugged. “You’ll see why I’m in need of help.”
    I removed the elastic from the folder and found that it was jammed with scraps of paper, notes scrawled on the backs of old envelopes, and the occasional full-sized sheet of paper with handwritten recipes. Oh my. I took out a piece of yellow paper and saw a list of ingredients followed by illegible notes.
    “Is that the one from Chez Marc?” Kyle peered at the paper. “Yes. At least I think it is. It’s his recipe for roast chicken with something on the side. What does that say? Rots manageable? That can’t be right.”
    “Root vegetables, maybe,” I suggested.
    “Yes!” Kyle said enthusiastically. “Root vegetables! The chef does the most amazing root vegetable puree that he flavors with cardamom.”
    “See?” Ade said. “Chloe is a natural.”
    Kyle smiled at her. “I think you’re right. I better hire her, don’t you think?” He turned to me. “What do you say? Has this folder of chaos scared you off?”
    I laughed. “Not at all. I can get in touch with these chefs and have them clarify any confusion we have, and then I’ll type everything up. Maybe we could get a little background on each chef? And have a short bio or an introduction of some sort for the recipe?”
    “Perfect! I’ll pay you by the hour, so just keep track of your time and give me a total at the end of each week.” Kyle quoted me an hourly sum that was twice what I’d hoped for.
    When our appetizers arrived, Adrianna practically inhaled her plate. “I had no idea how much I missed real food,” she said with a sigh. “This lobster mac and cheese is unbelievable. Owen refuses to eat seafood at home since he’s around it all day. Not that we can afford to be buying expensive fish fillets right now anyhow, but I’m pretty damn sick of eating plain chicken and pork chops, so this is such a luxury, Kyle.”
    Kyle laughed and smiled at my pal. “Please, it’s nothing. So his work isn’t going well? I’m sorry to hear that. And you at home with a young child? It sounds like things are tough right now.”
    Ade stuffed her mouth and nodded. God, she was really packing it in. Admittedly the food was excellent. My braised short ribs with hoisin sauce and wasabi mashed potatoes were outstanding. So was the watermelon appetizer. Who would’ve thought of this combination? But the sweet vinegar dressing went perfectly with the fruit, cheese, and meat. I was in heaven. But it seemed that Adrianna’s ravenous appetite had erased her memory of table manners. I signaled to her to wipe her mouth.
    She paused for air. “Yeah, he works hard as a seafood salesman, believe me, but I wouldn’t complain if his paycheck was double what it is. At least he’s had the same job for longer than a month. Progress, I suppose.”
    “Owen has a history of trying his hand at a... well, a varied set of careers,” I explained.
    “He’s worked on a blimp, assisted a puppeteer, sold insurance,” Adrianna said as she counted on her fingers. “You get the idea. So we’re all pleased that he’s