Friendship

The glue that holds the five novels together is the friendship of Rick, Leti, Teresa and Erin. The excerpt below from Chapter 15 in the Winning Certificate shows the bond that they have with each other.

     "Do we have to walk down that winding path to get to the restaurant?" Erin said as she looked down at the tree and flower lined walkway to the Shadowbrook Restaurant. "It's a long way down."

      "Come over here," Rick said. "We can take the cable car."

    

  Rick, Erin, Teresa, and Leti all squeezed into the tiny red cable car to descend the seventy feet to the restaurant entrance. According to the sign near the door, this tiny car was actually a hillavator installed in 1958 and was the only inclined elevator servicing a restaurant in the United States. After a two-minute ride, they would come to the main entrance where the bar was located and then they could walk to the four dining rooms of the restaurant, which were below it, the last one opening on to a patio on the banks of Soquel creek.

     They entered the Rock Room, the restaurant's bar. The stunning back wall covered in stone featured a walk-in fireplace complete with ten-foot ceilings and skylights, which revealed the waterfalls, flowers, and trees located on the walkway to the restaurant. To the right of the entry way was a bar made of redwood milled from antique wine vats. The wood paneling and the hard wood floors provided elegance and warmth to the room. After being given a pencil, a tasting menu, and being seated, the waitress brought four two-ounce glasses of wine from the Santa Cruz Mountain Winery and four appetizers that complemented the wine. The winemaker circulated among the crowd telling about the wines.

    "I like this 2004 Branciforte Creek Pinot more than I like the 2004 Bailey's Pinot," Teresa said. "It's so light and smooth and the salmon mousse appetizer, is to die for."

     "I can't taste the difference between the two," Erin said. "However, I can taste the difference between the appetizers and my favorite is the barbecued ribs."

     Rick tasted the 2004 Merlot and the 2004 Durif. He knew that Durif was another name for Petit Syrah. In France and Australia, Durif is the preferred name of this grape.

     "This winemaker also makes brandy," Rick said. "I had the chance to visit his facility up in the Santa Cruz Mountains. He has a copper still that was made in France around 1900. He's using his vineyard's grapes to make several different brandies."

      "Let's do a toast," Leti interjected because she was sick of hearing about wine.

      "We've been together for twenty-seven years," Rick said. "Let's toast to our great friendship."

        "It's been a long twenty-seven years," Leti said. "Remember how we helped figure out who burned down the administration building and killed the principal and the time we helped destroy a smuggling ring run by the Chinese?"

        "And we all went through personal crises," Teresa added. "Rick lost his wife in a car accident. Leti became the godmother of the daughter of a girl who was trying to get out of the gang lifestyle and she became a grandmother when her son had a baby. Erin had a bout with some psychological problems and is doing well on her meds and I've been separated from my husband."

     "Don't forget we have spent twenty-seven years helping kids," Erin said. "That's the most important part."

    

 "And I taught Romeo and Juliet eighty-one times," Rick said laughing. "And I saw Leonard Whiting's naked buns eighty-one times in the Zefferelli movie of the play."

      "Let's toast Leonard Whiting's buns and our friendship," Leti said holding her glass high.

     They talked, ate, ordered full glasses of wine, and drank for at least another hour. Rick thought about  the old hippies that lived in his apartment building when he was in college. Even though they were over sixty-five, they were always affectionate with each other. They believed that love multiplies and since there was plenty of love to go around there was no need for jealously. Rick realized that he had a special love for the Hefty Trio.

Potato Pierogi with Fernwood Mirepoix

This recipe and wine pairing comes from The Fishy Chips.

Loyalty and betrayal quickly become conflicts in The Fishy Chips, set in the Silicon Valley of California where many of the titans of the computer world have research and development operations and manufacturing facilities. Educators, under the control of Chinese agents are using students from the Mission Community College’s Semiconductor Manufacturing Program to obtain a top-secret computer chip being manufactured by Intel for use in the United States Military's anti--ballistic missile system. Rick has to reconcile his loyalty to his students with loyalty to his country as he works with his friend from the FBI to recover the stolen component.

Also telling the story is George Yuan, a nineteen-year-old alienated Chinese-American. Through the help of a beautiful female spy, George discovers his love and loyalty to China. He agrees to help steal the computer chip. In the process of recovering the stolen computer chip, the FBI captures the members of the spying ring, and two others are murdered.

"Conflicting Loyalties: An Excerpt from The Fishy Chips." was a winning entry in the 17th Annual Mendocino Coast Writer's Contest, Summer 2006. It was published in the Todd Point Review. 

Rick's Potato Pierogi with Fernwood Mirepoix

A plate of pierogi fried in butter and topped with sour cream puts Rick in heaven. Pierogi are inexpensive and very easy to make. The Fernwood Mirepoix is light and fruity.

Serves 4-6

1 cup white flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 egg separated

1/8 cup warm water

4 tablespoons butter

1 large yellow onion, diced

Salt and pepper (to taste)

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup mashed potatoes

2 egg whites

Pour the flour, egg yolks and salt into a food processor and blend. While blending, slowly pour the water into the flour. Mix until the dough forms a ball. If more water is needed, add 1 teaspoon at a time.

Remove the ball of dough from the processor and place on a floured surface. Cover with a damp cloth and allow to rest for about an hour. Knead the dough into a ball and roll it into a 1/16th of an inch thick sheet. Cut the dough into 2-3 inch circles using the top of a glass. Combine any excess dough together and repeat the kneading/rolling process. You should get approximately 25 circles.

Place a large skillet over medium heat, and place 2 tablespoons of butter in the pan. When the butter has melted, add the onions, salt and pepper. Add the garlic, cover, and cook until the onions are just starting to turn brown.

In a mixing bowl, combine the mashed potatoes with the onions and mix well. Place the dough cutouts on a floured surface.

From the mixing bowl, take 1 teaspoon of the potato/onion mixture and place it in the center of the pierogi. Take a brush and dip it into the egg whites, and the brush the edges. Fold in half and seal with the tines of a fork. Set aside. Repeat until all the pierogi are filled.

To cook, place the pierogi in boiling water. Cook until they float for approximately a minute or so. 

They can be served at this point, or you can fry them in butter as Rick does. Top with sour cream and enjoy.

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Fernwood Cellars

The land at Fernwood Cellars, located at the base of Mt. Madonna, has been in the family for six generations since 1863. In 1891 people came by stagecoach to spend time in the countryside at a twenty-room Victorian Hotel, which included tennis courts, bocce ball and the first outdoor pool in Santa Clara County. The resort was very popular until it burned down in 1908 and was immediately replaced by a lodge style building and ten cabins, which were in use from 1908 until they were forced to close during the depression. The buildings fell into disrepair and in the 1960s trespassers burned down the cabins. The lodge was restored in 1991 and the vineyards were planted. In 1999, the winery was built and Fernwood Cellars was established.

Matt Oetinger is the owner and winemaker and along with his wife and two children. They operate the winery as a family business. Their award winning wines include: Chardonnay, Riesling, Zinfandel, Petite Sirah, and Cabernet Sauvignon. The winery produces about 3,000 cases per year.

Rick really likes their Zinfandel and their Mirepoix. The Zinfandel won a gold medal at the 2009 Santa Cruz Mountains Commercial Wine Competition and their Merlot, Chardonnay, and Cabernet Sauvignon won silver medals in the same competition.

The Inspection

The novels in the  Rick Podowski and The Hefty Trio series are about solving the mystery, eating great ethnic food and drinking fine wines.  In addition, each book examines a pressing issue of the day.  In Death of a Foster Child, the absurdity of the rules associated with being certified are examined.  Below is the story about the social worker inspecting the house.

Up the walkway came the inspector—a woman wearing a tight yellow blouse tucked into jeans that were at least one size too small. A very visible tire circled her midsection. Pumps held up this structure and on top of it all was a very round face framed on three sides with short brown hair with a double chin as its base. She was here, she informed Rick, to certify the home for foster care.

"Are you ready to let me look around?" she asked. "We have to approve your home first before we can make any of the other foster care preparations. The Community Care Licensing Agency is very strict, and the regulations must be followed exactly. You never know when their representative will show up at your door."

"I didn't know that CCL visited homes unannounced," I replied. "After researching this, I understood that they only visit when there is a complaint. They don't bother people who are following the rules."

"Oh yes they do," she responded. "In fact, we just had a meeting because a CCL employee entered one of our homes and the foster parent had left his wood working tools out. The foster families at the meeting knew the seriousness of the offense. CCL almost took their foster license for one unlocked hammer."

I had a nagging feeling that things were not about to go well as she walked into the kitchen, opened the cabinet under the sink and exclaimed, "Oh my God. The dishwasher detergent, scouring powder, and the window spray are not locked up."

"We keep them there," I said after I was able to regain my composure. "Doesn't everyone keep their dishwasher detergent under the sink? Besides......"

"It's against the rules," she interrupted me before I could remind her that we wanted to take in a teenager, someone to whom detergent would not present a hazard. "What happens if the child drinks the bottle of dishwasher detergent? Do you want that on your conscience?"

"You have a point," I said, deciding not to say anything about the twenty bottles of wine in the unlocked wine cooler under the granite countertop on the island directly across from the sink. I also didn't mention the cabinet above the stove filled with rum, vodka, and liqueurs, or the beer in the refrigerator. I could try to argue that the age of the child made a difference, but the woman would not be deterred from her script.

"Yes," she said, "we have to protect the children at all costs, and always according to the regulations."

With newfound dedication, she opened the cabinet where they kept the canned food and staples such as flour and sugar, and barked out, "You have powdered milk. That's against the regulations. You can only serve whole milk."

"We use it for cooking," I replied, although, by now, I realized that there was no use trying to reason with her. "Sometimes when we run out of cream, we use it for our coffee. Why should the state...?"

"Get rid of it," she snapped and without further explanations, went on to check the fire alarms that were mounted on the ceilings. With the handle of a broom, she pushed the button on each one. Clearly, nothing would be overlooked.

Going into the bathroom, she asked me where we kept the first aid kit and when I showed her, she snapped, "You have antiseptic and low dose aspirin in the kit," she said, shaking her head. "These things need to be locked up."

"Wait a minute," I said, feeling confident because he had just taken the required first aid course. "The Red Cross said to keep everything together in a first aid kit. That way, you don't waste time looking for something. If I cut my finger, for example, I immediately need to clean the wound with antiseptic and then bandage it."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "CCL says that the antiseptic must be locked up. What would happen if your foster daughter ate this stuff? Then, you'd be whistling another tune."

"The Red Cross says that one low dose aspirin should be given immediately after a heart attack. That's why they're in the first aid kit."

"You're not getting it," she bellowed in frustration. "It's the CCL regulation."

"So," I countered, "it's tough if someone dies because of a regulation that doesn't make any sense."

"And just look at your medicine cabinet," she said ignoring my comment. "This will never do. The Neosporin, the cream for your hands and all these creams need to be under lock and key."

"So I have to lock up the toothpaste?" I asked, trying to hide my amusement. "After all, it says on the label that if a child under six eats some, that child must be taken to the hospital."

"That's not in the regulations," she said. "Keep the toothpaste, but take all the rest of this out."

This was one of the few times where I had nothing to say. It's not possible to argue with this type of logic.

"Where's your evacuation plan?" she asked as we headed to my office. "You need a plan so people will know how to leave the house in case of fire."

"Every room has a door to the outside," I said. "All you have to do is to open it. I could put an 'open in case of fire' sign on every door."

"Don't you understand," she said, making an obvious effort to remain calm. "That's not enough. The plan must show where to turn off the gas and the water."

"There was a huge gas explosion near San Francisco a few months ago," I responded, "and because of that, the gas company has advised everyone to leave the house if they smell gas and call 911."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "CCL regulations require you to turn off the gas. Now, where do you intend to keep the child's records? They have to be locked up because people break into houses to steal the identity of foster kids."

"Interesting," I said, refraining with an effort from asking why on earth anyone would want to do that. It would be, I realized as I showed her my filing cabinet, just as well not to mention that, unfortunately, we had lost the key to it about seven years ago.

Finally, it was time to go into the garage. "All these chemicals, this paint, and the wood glue all have to be locked up," she told me. "Your teenage foster daughter could drink these things."

"Drink latex paint, and wood glue?" I was bewildered. "Nobody in their right minds would touch any latex product and you can't get high sniffing wood glue."

"Lock it up," she said, as she looked at the shelf above the washer and dryer.

"You can't have laundry detergent, fabric softener, and bleach out. Lock them up."

Next we went outside where the four-foot three-tiered fountain became the focus of her eagle eyes. "You have to drain the fountain," she said. "Or you can put a five-foot fence around it."

"But there isn't enough water for anyone to drown," I said. "Hell, it's even too small for fish."

"Doesn't matter," she said. "Rules are rules. We have finished the inspection, and you have failed. I'll be back after you get this place cleaned up."

And with that last comment, she turned and lumbered out the gate to the street. Air warmed by the sun rushed in to fill the space where she had stood.

Arrabbiata Sauce Made From Garden Tomatoes

The situation is deteriorating.  I've made garden salads with tomatoes, Caprese salads, stuffed tomatoes and salads with just tomatoes and red onions, but it has been to no avail--the tomatoes in the garden keep getting riper and riper.

So today I gathered up the fifteen or so tomatoes and made an Arrabbiata Sauce which I am going to freeze.  Arrabbiata is a spicy tomato sauce that gets its heat from crushed red peppers.  The recipe below is for those who like to throw things together so if you need exact measurements then  this is not the recipe for you.

The first step is to boil some water.  Remove the pan  from the stove and put the tomatoes into the water.  Wait a minute or so and the tomato skins will just slip off.  If you have to do this in more than one batch, reheat the water to boiling.

Chop a couple of onions and add some garlic to the pan with some olive oil.  Cook until the onions are soft.

Chop the tomatoes in the food processor and add them and some wine to the pan.  Also add a little bit of sugar, some Italian spices and it you want some tomato paste.  Add the crushed red pepper.

 Cook for about twenty minutes.  Taste frequently to get the correct mix of spices and to be sure that the tomatoes are cooked.

You can use the sauce immediately over pasta or you can freeze it.  I'm going to rest because soon my wife will be making frequent trips from the garden and  I will be cooking   fried zuccini, zucchini bread, zuccini soup and stuffed zuccini.