advantage of my research."
"You can bet your cute little butt I don't give a flying . . . hoot . . . about cow genetics. I do give a damn if you're going to bore the pants off my housewives in Peoria."
" I myself, speak from the heart. I have no written speech. In Russia," Leonid continued darkly, "it is sometimes not wise to write things down."
"Yeah, right," Lally said. "Then you're going to have to do it once for the crew and once for the camera. Otherwise, forget it."
Meg, who had ignored the wrangling, sat back with a gusty sigh and a satisfied wriggle of her fingers. "Got it. Now, Lally, you know you're locked into this program. We've already got the column slated to run in New York magazine next month, same time as the show will be broadcast. So don't be so hard on everyone, okay?"
"You have the menu?" Colonel Calhoun asked.
"I have the menu. Guaranteed heart-healthy and delicious as well." She wrinkled her forehead "I hope. I'm going to have time to practice. I've already tried out a couple of filets, Colonel, and I have to tell you, they were tough. I've devised a marinade that might work, and it's working away in my kitchen right now. We'll have to see."
"I admit that's always been a problem with the longhorn," Colonel Calhoun said. "I'm depending on you to come up with the answer. A longhorn marinade is crucial to success. We all are aware of that."
"I might have it. And I might not. Anyhow, here's the meal." Meg jumped up, grabbed the eraser, and vigorously swept the white board clean. Then she wrote:
INTERNATIONAL DINNER
Starters
Filet by Quilliam—a variation on steak tartare
Grapefruit broiled in mint sauce
Longhorn p â tè
Soup
Oxtail consomme
Fruit sorbet
Entrée
Stuffed bracciole à la Longhorn
in a sweet potato nest
Vegetable
Asparagus
Salad
Basil, arugula, and iceberg lettuce
with Longhorn vinaigrette
Sweet
Mascarpone from Longhorn cream
with raspberry sauce
"And, of course, the appropriate wines to accompany each. I think I'm going to look for a full-bodied red, with some citrus overtones to go with the bracciole."
"Now, about my private wine label idea," Harvey said. "I have several wineries standing by."
"To make Cow-bernet and Moo-lot?" Meg said rudely. "I think not. And as much as I love the New York whites, there is no appropriate New York State red to accompany this meal." She wrote DONE at the end of the menu with a flourish of the Magic Marker.
Quill led the applause.
"And the recipes?" The colonel pressed. "The one for the marinade? That will be made available to the audience?"
"No," Meg said shortly. "It will not. A chef's recipes are like your . . . your whatever. Breeding papers. My recipes are my . . . my . . ." She waved her hands, searching for the right word.
"Net worth?" suggested the colonel.
"You could say that, I suppose." She exchanged a glance with Quill. " Our net worth."
"But what good are Longhorn beef recipes going to do for you? They could do so much good for people who love beef and have to give it up because of the cholesterol and the fats. It would be a genuine charitable act. A genuine charitable act."
Quill noticed that Meg flushed. Her sister had a gen erous heart, underneath the crabby expressions on her T- shirts. But she was right. Meg's recipes and her skill as a chef were the only thing that differentiated them from the competition. Quill cleared her throat and said rather loudly, "Would you like to choose the program cover? I'll need a few days to make the sketch camera ready."
"I myself find these cows in the circle too melancholy," Leonid said. "Much sadness in these cows. I prefer that as a program."
"I prefer the other one. Although I really don't think Royal would feel comfortable with his picture on the cover with my bull," said the colonel. "On the other hand, it is very important for people to realize that the genetics of these bulls is what makes the beef so healthy. We have a duty to use that first cover, the one
"You can bet your cute little butt I don't give a flying . . . hoot . . . about cow genetics. I do give a damn if you're going to bore the pants off my housewives in Peoria."
" I myself, speak from the heart. I have no written speech. In Russia," Leonid continued darkly, "it is sometimes not wise to write things down."
"Yeah, right," Lally said. "Then you're going to have to do it once for the crew and once for the camera. Otherwise, forget it."
Meg, who had ignored the wrangling, sat back with a gusty sigh and a satisfied wriggle of her fingers. "Got it. Now, Lally, you know you're locked into this program. We've already got the column slated to run in New York magazine next month, same time as the show will be broadcast. So don't be so hard on everyone, okay?"
"You have the menu?" Colonel Calhoun asked.
"I have the menu. Guaranteed heart-healthy and delicious as well." She wrinkled her forehead "I hope. I'm going to have time to practice. I've already tried out a couple of filets, Colonel, and I have to tell you, they were tough. I've devised a marinade that might work, and it's working away in my kitchen right now. We'll have to see."
"I admit that's always been a problem with the longhorn," Colonel Calhoun said. "I'm depending on you to come up with the answer. A longhorn marinade is crucial to success. We all are aware of that."
"I might have it. And I might not. Anyhow, here's the meal." Meg jumped up, grabbed the eraser, and vigorously swept the white board clean. Then she wrote:
INTERNATIONAL DINNER
Starters
Filet by Quilliam—a variation on steak tartare
Grapefruit broiled in mint sauce
Longhorn p â tè
Soup
Oxtail consomme
Fruit sorbet
Entrée
Stuffed bracciole à la Longhorn
in a sweet potato nest
Vegetable
Asparagus
Salad
Basil, arugula, and iceberg lettuce
with Longhorn vinaigrette
Sweet
Mascarpone from Longhorn cream
with raspberry sauce
"And, of course, the appropriate wines to accompany each. I think I'm going to look for a full-bodied red, with some citrus overtones to go with the bracciole."
"Now, about my private wine label idea," Harvey said. "I have several wineries standing by."
"To make Cow-bernet and Moo-lot?" Meg said rudely. "I think not. And as much as I love the New York whites, there is no appropriate New York State red to accompany this meal." She wrote DONE at the end of the menu with a flourish of the Magic Marker.
Quill led the applause.
"And the recipes?" The colonel pressed. "The one for the marinade? That will be made available to the audience?"
"No," Meg said shortly. "It will not. A chef's recipes are like your . . . your whatever. Breeding papers. My recipes are my . . . my . . ." She waved her hands, searching for the right word.
"Net worth?" suggested the colonel.
"You could say that, I suppose." She exchanged a glance with Quill. " Our net worth."
"But what good are Longhorn beef recipes going to do for you? They could do so much good for people who love beef and have to give it up because of the cholesterol and the fats. It would be a genuine charitable act. A genuine charitable act."
Quill noticed that Meg flushed. Her sister had a gen erous heart, underneath the crabby expressions on her T- shirts. But she was right. Meg's recipes and her skill as a chef were the only thing that differentiated them from the competition. Quill cleared her throat and said rather loudly, "Would you like to choose the program cover? I'll need a few days to make the sketch camera ready."
"I myself find these cows in the circle too melancholy," Leonid said. "Much sadness in these cows. I prefer that as a program."
"I prefer the other one. Although I really don't think Royal would feel comfortable with his picture on the cover with my bull," said the colonel. "On the other hand, it is very important for people to realize that the genetics of these bulls is what makes the beef so healthy. We have a duty to use that first cover, the one
Similar Books
