I hope I don't mess this up like I did Christmas in Trenton's chapters. Maybe I'll have to remain a silent author or publish 7,000 word one chapter stories.
Lula (aka Tallulah) and Reginald (aka Reggie) enjoy a Caribbean meal in NYC with a little street scene at the end. Has Lula's blown her chance at a new life?
The black Audi smoothly sailed up I95 eventually turning into NYC. Reginald slide into his underground parking under his apartment building.
"Tallulah, we will be a bit early for our restaurant reservation, do you want to come up and refresh yourself in my apartment?"
Lula did't have an answer. She was street smart enough to hesitate. This was not a planned detour. While she trusted Reginald, he was still a man and Lula's luck with men was abysmal.
Perhaps sensing her unease, Reggie countered, "Talullah, I'm not inviting you up to seduce you, I have to pee." Lula laughed mostly at herself and admitted she too should use the facilities.
Reggie lived in a condo, not an apartment. It wasn't grandiose but above average for NYC. Where did he get his money? Not from being a retired civil servant. Maybe the consulting business was really paying off.
As she moved to look out the front window over looking the street, not the dumpster behind she asked, "Reggie, how long have you lived here?"
"About 10 years. My wife and I found it and couldn't pass it up. When she died, she left enough money for me to buy this free and clear. It is adequate."
Adequate, Lula thought. It was far larger than her apartment, plus this one had a kitchen and two toilets.
"Do you have an office? I don't see one here."
"No, this is as much as I can afford. A home office would be a luxury. I use the dining room table and keep my files in the kitchen cabinets."
"How do you cook? You're a gourmet cook."
"I use only a few cabinets for paper work. The rest are for cooking. My grandfather was a chef on the railroad. Those guys knew how to work in confined spaces. I learned from him. Plus there's a bodega at the end of the block so I don't need to store much food."
It came time to leave for the restaurant. The temperatures were indeed chillier. Fortunately Reggie had no trouble hailing a cab. Lula thought he made it look so easy, she'd have to stand in the middle of the street staring down a cab.
The restaurant interior was modern elegant; white tablecloths, black upholstered chairs, recessed lighting that created light islands on the dark hard floor. All the tables were filled with people finishing their lunch. Lula hoped they wouldn't have to wait long.
The host welcomed Reginald, "Welcome back Mr. Graham. Would you and your guest please follow me." They didn't go into the restaurant but through two doors. Holy cow, Lula thought, we are in the kitchen! Off to the side was an elegantly set table with white cloth and crystal. Lula looked at Reggie. "Do us lovely people of color have to sit back in the kitchen?" She asked.
Reggie explained, "Only the chef's friends get to eat in this exclusive area." If the table wasn't so magnificently set, Lula would not have believed him. A waiter appeared with two slender glasses with a pretty red liquid inside. "Talullah," Reggie asked, "Are you allergic to any foods. I'm sorry my dear I forgot to ask "
"I don't know. The only reaction I've had was when the chicken salad at the deli on Stark street was spoiled." Reggie winced.
"Jaques is working on a Thanksgiving menu. We will be trying different Caribbean dishes for their suitability for the holiday. I don't think he'll be serving us anything that might cause gastric problems."
Lula reminded herself she must remain in control. She sipped the red liquid thinking it wine. It was something with rum and delicious. Control she reminded herself as she noticed Reggie was barely sipping his aperitif. Fortunately a plate with nibbles arrived and she could concentrate on something else; grilled marinated shrimp on sticks and a crab spread with little bread rounds.
Control, control she kept reminding herself. Don't stuff your face. "The host called you by name. Do you come here often?" Lula asked.
"Yes, Jaques and I are good friends."
"Do you always sit back here?"
"Actually yes. Sometimes they let me help out at the prep center," he said as his eye twinkled.
"They let you cook?" She gasped. To Lula that did not sound like fun.
Lula noted there were two extra chairs and before she asked if someone else would be joking them, Jaques, the head chef, came from the kitchen area. "Chef Jaques, this is Tallulah from Trenton. She will be helping you with your holiday menu." Lula remained demur. Control, control, remain in control she kept repeating to herself.
The chef was a giant of a black man instantly reminding Lula of Tank except this one spoke with a Caribbean accent. Apparently Reginald's grandparents came from the Caribbean. When the chef asked Lula if she had Caribbean roots she answered honestly, "I don't know. My family history is murky."
"Well tonight you are family!" The chef exclaimed earning nods from several other chefs in the kitchen.
Chef Jaques sat and and immediately one of the assistant chefs brought three plates. The first course consisted of two items; meatballs that contained a hot chile and what Lula thought would be a cooling guacamole but found it equally spicy. On the side were plantain chips. She watched Reggie dip the plantain chip in the guacamole. Being adventuresome, or actually not knowing any better, she dipped a meatball in the guacamole while the chef watched. Instead of saying anything he tried dipping his meatballs in the spicy guacamole.
"Miss Tallula," the chef exclaimed, "I would have never thought to try that. The two chiles compliment one another nicely. I'll change the presentation starting tomorrow."
A waiter appeared with a bottle of wine. "Lula would you like wine with your meal?" Reggie asked.
Since this was billed as a gourmet meal she thought wine was necessary and agreed. The waiter opened the bottle and poured a sample. "You taste, my dear, it is Gewurztraminer." Lula only drank wine with a screw top, not a cork so wasn't about to turn it away. "It's delicious," she answered as she truly liked the slightly sweet yet clean wine even if it did sound like a strange sausage, wurtz-what?
The same chef assistant brought three more plants. This time the offerings were chicken wings and something fried. Lula gasped in excitement, these were foods she could relate to. "Yes, conch fritters, something special for a special lady," Jacques said smiling.
She wasn't going to break the spell by asking what conch was. Her fear it was some disgusting plant or animal. But how bad could it be since it was fried?
When the chef excused himself, Lula leaned over and asked, "Reggie, how many dishes will we have today?"
Reginald laughed, "Normally 8 to 10 items but Jaques is taken with you. There's no telling how many dishes we'll sample tonight."
"I just want to pace myself," she said. This from a lady who eats a whole bucket of chicken for lunch.
Next out was a spicy bean soup where every spice in the cabinet had been added. It was delicious and complex especially when the fresh lime was squeezed over the top. "Soup for Thanksgiving?" Lula remembered she was here to develop a Thanksgiving menu.
Caribbeans eat a lot of beans and peas, maybe Jaques is trying to introduce them in a different form," Reggie surmised.
The jicama and orange salad was a nice break from the previous spicy foods. During her week or so with Weight Watchers Lula learned about jicama's benefits in dieting. Obviously being on the menu tonight must be an anomaly. She would withhold judgement.
Next came blackened snapper. Just one fish was brought out and the waiter carefully deboned the fish, filleted it and gave each diner a fillet. Lula wasn't wild about fish, so this small portion was fine.
A large plate arrived with several items. "This is Jerked Turkey...," Reggie began. Lula started a small giggle which she tried to hide from Reggie. She might have succeeded but she was drinking far more wine than he.
"Jerked Turkey is what I call people I've stunned so I can handcuff them," she admitted.
Reggie gave her a stare comparable to what Ranger gave Stephanie from time to time, "Do you often stun people?"
She looked down at the table and said, "Stephanie won't let me shoot them."
Reggie was horrified, "Have you ever shot anybody?"
"I've fired my Glock a few times but I only remember hitting someone in their small toe."
"Was that person standing or in some other position?" Reggie asked.
"Ah, standing. The gun went off when I pulled it from my purse."
Reggie looked longingly at his wine glass but controlled himself. "My dear I'm uncomfortable with you shooting people's toes. In fact, I'm uncomfortable with you carrying a gun if you are untrained."
"Reggie in my neighborhood people gotta know you carry a gun otherwise you are bait," she responded vigorously.
"Are you carrying now?" He said with a little fear in his voice.
"No, my Glock won't fit in this small purse and I don't have one of those lady guns like Ranger makes Stephanie carry, but she never does."
Reggie paused for awhile, "My dear, please don't carry when you are with me. If you are caught with an unregistered weapon, not only would you be in trouble, but so would I."
Along with the turkey was a dressing made from cornbread with chorizo sausage. The vegetable was roasted chayote. Lula thought the vegetable sounded like something the roadrunner should be chasing around the desert, but didn't share her thoughts. On the side was a purée of sweet potatoes and coconut.
Lula tasted the purée and paused. "My dear you look surprised. Is there a problem?" Reggie asked. "I thought it would be like sweet potato pie. This isn't very sweet."
The chef had come back to the table, "No, the coconut is fresh grated, not sweetened." Chef Jacques jumped to his feet, "Let me get you something special." He returned with a giant green ball with a hole cut in the top with two straws. "Fresh coconut water. Very young coconuts are mostly water inside. I've been thinking about serving coconut water along with the meal. You will be my first test."
Lula took a sip, "Interesting. If I didn't have the wine, this would be good. This is better for someone drinking only water. I'll stay with the purée."
"My choice too," shrugged the chef.
"I'll drink it," Reggie said as he took the coconut from Lula. He was still avoiding the wine.
The meal also had a potato gratin with a mild green chile. Lula sampled the dish and her eyes sparkled. It was simple, rich and delicious. Reggie winked, "I can make this for you."
The chef chuckled, "Of course you can, I gave you the recipe." Everyone laughed.
Three small dishes were brought from the kitchen holding a flat bottom spoon filled with an orange colored purée. Lula looked confused. "It's sorbet to cleanse your palette after such rich dishes," Reggie murmured.
"It's not dessert?"
"No, no, they are coming."
They? Lula thought.
When it was time for dessert, the dessert chef came and sat. She was also dark skinned, tall with a jolly disposition and sister to the chef. "I have a variety of desserts I'd like you to try. We need several options for the Thanksgiving meal."
Lula thought this was more a job for Stephanie.
Out came small samplings of coconut rice pudding, bread pudding, natillas made from milk only and another made from purée sweet potato and milk called boniatillo. Cakes included a chocolate cinnamon cake, a Caribbean black fruit cake, and Tres Leche cake. There were small servings of rum ice cream, something called Dulche de Coco which reminded Lula of the purée before and a cookie resembling coconut macaroons.
Lula looked at Reggie who also was overwhelmed. "Where do we start?"
The pastry chef reminded them they needed to select several to accommodate future diners.
In the end they decided on rum ice cream with a coconut macaroon on the side, chocolate cinnamon cake, and boniatillo. Everyone seemed pleased with the various assortment.
"Are you full my dear?" Reggie asked lovingly as he caressed her cheek.
"Anything more and I'll bust out of this dress."
Reggie's eyes twinkled, "Hmm, maybe we can get more food to go to help with the dress." Lula blushed. It was a new experience for her. She liked how her face grew warm.
As they left the restaurant, Lula pulled her wrap around her shoulders, it was definitely colder than earlier in the day. Just before they entered the cab, somebody bumped into Lula nearly knocking her to the ground. She was trying to hold her tongue avoiding calling the person some anatomical body part, but found herself looking into the face of Earl Lewis. He was a high bond fugitive Stephanie and Lula were looking for in Trenton.
Lewis recognized Lula, "You!" He looked around for Stephanie and immediately took off.
Lula, perhaps embolden by the wine, went into Rhino-mode and took off after Lewis. Her six inch heels didn't slow her down. "Bond Enforcement" she yelled. Reggie thought he had hold of Lula's upper arm came away only with her wrap. "Lula STOP," he yelled.
Automatic reflex had her reaching into her purse for her gun, but the smaller bag only held her ID, lipstick and tissue package. She looked up just in time to see Earl Lewis pull a .45 caliber gun from his back waist band. She yelled, "Gun" and wisely dove to the side. The gun went off like a cannon, the sound echoing off the buildings' walls. People were screaming and crying. From behind her she heard, "Oh Shit." It was Reggie's voice.