Читать книгу Beyond Delicious: The Ghost Whisperer's Cookbook - Mary Ann Winkowski - Страница 21

SPANISH CORN AND SPANISH ZUCCHINI

THE HOME IN THE LOS ANGELES HILLS was beautiful. It was one of the movie mansions from the 1940s, when style and detail mattered more than simply having more square footage than your neighbors. Since the home was old and no longer in favor with the current movie stars, it was sort of off the beaten path, but no less expensive for it.

The owners were Betty, a corporate lawyer, and her husband, Bob, an accountant. They were no-nonsense people who had quickly reached a point in their lives where they felt entitled to what they had and looked down on those who had not. They were cold but polite, even to each other, and their two children—five-year-old Gracie and seven-year-old Eric—seemed to look to their live-in nanny, Rita, for the affection and attention most children get from their parents.

To be honest, I was amazed they’d called me in the first place. It did take them a while to call, Betty admitted, but it had finally gotten to the point where their logical explanations were failing. The kids were always sickly, but they wrote that off as kids being kids, but the workers who came to restore or refurbish parts of the mansion were another story. They’d work for a few days, then leave and never come back. The footsteps, the glimpses of moving shadows, the missing tools that turned up later in other parts of the house—it was too much, and Betty and Bob were sick of trying to find replacements.

Not to mention the kids. Gracie hadn’t slept in her own bed for months, afraid of the woman who stood and watched her in the night. Gracie said the woman had a long braid on the one side of her head, tied off with a blue ribbon. Eric stayed in his own bed, but only because he was afraid to move. His closet door liked to open and close by itself, and his toys would move across the floor of their own volition. He was convinced that the ghost hid under his bed; sometimes he could feel it tugging the covers.

Still, when I got there, the buttoned-down, business-minded couple was still dismissive, or perhaps I just wasn’t the kind of guest they usually had over. Betty didn’t like me telling them about their unwanted guests, though. She kept correcting me on where the ghosts had come from and how to reduce their influence. At one point I suggested to Betty that she clearly knew better than I and I’d just get out of their hair, but Betty changed her mind and asked me to stay.

There was a male ghost there who did not like Betty. He’s what I’d call “residue” from a case she’d won, so he already had a chip on his shoulder. Besides that, he thought she was arrogant and controlling, and he wanted to make life hard for her because of it. There was also a female ghost, a Mexican woman who looked exactly as Gracie had described. She may have been genuinely concerned for the health of the children and the food they ate, as she said, or she may have been slightly embarrassed that Rita, who was also Mexican, was not preparing any of her country’s more traditional dishes. I got the sense of both from her.

“I’ve been trying to tell her,” the female ghost said, nodding toward Rita, “but she won’t listen!”

I asked Rita if this meant anything to her, and she seemed ashamed to speak. Finally, she admitted that the food Betty and Bob wanted her to make was very simple, just meat and potatoes.

“There are no colors in the food!” the ghost cried. “No colors!”

“Colors?” I asked. “Do you mean colors, like vegetables?”

“Yes! Of course!” she agreed. “Those kids would be much healthier if they ate better! I gave her the recipes!”

That was when Rita remembered the dreams. She had actually dreamed two recipes, one for Spanish corn and one for Spanish zucchini. She’d also found some of the ingredients pulled out on the counter, like a tomato one day and a zucchini the next—items she hadn’t even purchased or brought into the house!

Well, I could tell this conversation was not pleasing Betty, who clearly could do no wrong, especially when it came to picking the right foods for her family. She must have suspected it was some plot cooked up between me and the nanny to make her look dumb—at least that’s what the expression on her face said. So I made it seem like a big joke, to calm her fears.

“Why don’t we get these recipes?” I suggested to Betty with a wink. “Then she said she’d cross over and leave you alone.”

Betty seemed unsure, so I winked again. The ghost was standing behind me, so she didn’t see it.

“Okay,” Betty finally agreed, still not sure if she was in on the joke or the butt of it.

I don’t know if Rita was ever allowed to make the dishes, but Betty and Bob did refer me to several other people, so apparently their nights were easier after I’d helped the two spirits cross over, if nothing else.

Spanish Corn

2 cups canned corn

¼ teaspoon sugar

2 tablespoons chopped green peppers

1 egg, well beaten

2 tablespoons chopped pimientos

½ cup cracker crumbs

1 tablespoon finely chopped onion

½ cup milk

1 tablespoon salt

2 tablespoons melted butter

Combine ingredients and pour into a buttered baking dish. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes. Serve in baking dish.

Spanish Zucchini

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 clove garlic, finely chopped

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 pound small sliced unpeeled zucchini

1 can tomato paste

½ cup boiling water

1 4-ounce container pimiento cheese

Salt and pepper to taste

Simmer onion and garlic in oil until tender. Add zucchini; cover and cook until tender. Add tomato paste, water, and cheese. Season to taste. Cook slowly for 5 minutes. Serves 6–8.