Sandra & Guest Farewell Dinner

 

 

 

 

"Psst, Graham," Sandra whispered. "Graham! Graham, wake up."

Sandra was trying to wake Graham by gently nudging his feet which hung over the end of the settee. 

"Graham..."

Finally Graham stirred, shook the cobwebs from his head, stretched his arms and looked up to see his beautiful bride of many years standing over him.

"Sandra dear, you look well rested."

"Don't "Sandra dear" me," she said. "It's the middle of the afternoon, there's a near empty bottle of rum on the coffee table and two glasses, neither one sitting on a coaster. They're going to leave a ring, I know it."

"Honey. Can I call you honey? There's a perfectly good ... (hic-up) ...'splanation. If I (hic-up) may, I'll 'splain." Graham said politely. 

"You'd better 'splain yourself. And while you're 'splaining, tell me who that exquisite looking man is in our kitchen."

"Oh, him?"

"Yes, him. The dashingly handsome, debonair blonde haired gentleman I see cooking, dancing and parading in our kitchen wearing nothing but a chefs coat!"

"What! Just a chefs coat? Why that  lousy, no ... (hic-up) ... good son-of-a..."

"Graham, stifle. That got your attention and sobered you quickly! I'm kidding about the chef coat, dear. Don't worry, he's wearing pants and fully clothed."

"He'd better be... oh my head hurts."

"Of course your head hurts, you old fool! You never drink rum. What possessed you to drink it today?"

"Well, my sweets. You were sleeping soundly when the man from the kitchen showed up at our doorstep," Graham paused a moment messaging his temples as his head was pounding like a jackhammer breaking concrete. "He wanted, what he called a two-finger rum pour."

"Uh-huh. And the stunning, fashionably dressed woman with him in the kitchen? Laughing and giggling like a school girl at his every word."

"Huh? What woman? There was no stunning woman with him. Just John. He arrived alone."

"Arrived? From where, dear? Outer space? We'd weren't expecting company."

Graham was perplexed. "This stranger introduced himself to me, and I quote ... "Hi. My name is John and I'm from the States. As in United States." Graham took a breath and continued. "We shared a few drinks. All he wanted was to hear about you. And I obliged. You're so easy to speak about, mi amore."

"Well, those two are in our kitchen, conversing in Italian, mind you. And John, well he's the real deal in the kitchen. So romantic. Um, I mean aromatic."

Graham quickly stood, took a step and as quick as he stood, he plopped back on the settee. "Whoa. I'd better do this slowly,"

"Oh, Graham you doddering fool. Just sit there before you hurt yourself. I'll get you some black coffee."

"Thank you, Sandra. And by the way, John did arrive alone."

"I know sweetie, I was asleep as you and John witnessed. Uugh, how embarrassing," Sandra replied, "and me in my bunny slippers."

"You're still wearing them, my love!"

"Shush. Here let me help you stand. We'll go into the kitchen and I'll introduce you to our second guest. You already know John, your new best buddy."

"You've met them already?"

"Yes, I woke up and heard strange voices in the kitchen. I grabbed the fireplace poker and tip-toed to the kitchen. What else was I to do?"

"I'm sure your tip-toeing was very quiet considering you were wearing bunny slippers," Graham jokingly replied.

Unfortunately, Sandra failed to see Grahams humor and told him he's treading in some deep waters about now and she had the only life preserver. 

Moments later in the kitchen ... 

"I see you two are getting along and getting to know each other I presume? Sandra inquired.

"Yes we are, Sandra, and I'm so delighted to finally meet Debbie. She's more stunning in person then her FanStory photo." I replied. "Graham my friend, how're you feeling?"

"Felt better before the rum!"

"Graham," Sandra began, "let me introduce you to our dear FanStory friend and colleague, Debbie D'Arcy. She as well is taking a hiatus from the site, and all her worldwide friends got wind of John's visit and wanted Debbie to share in the same love, appreciation and well wishes given to me."
 

"I guess you can say they are  two ... Principesse poetiche." (Poetic Princesses).

"And here we are," Debbie said. "It's so nice to meet everyone. Plus we finally get to taste and enjoy one of John's meals he so drives us crazy with on each and every post."

"John, it smells exquisite," said Sandra. "If I'm not being too forward, may I ask what you're preparing?"

"What you're smelling," I started out saying, "is a little Soffritto, the foundation for creating flavor in the Italian kitchen. Basically a simple sauté of carrots, celery and onion in olive oil and a little garlic. As I was not familiar with the surroundings and your food markets, I'm going to keep dinner simple, if that's okay?" I replied.

"Huh. When you use words like basic and simple, that's my idea of a gourmet meal if I were to prepare it," Debbie replied, with Sandra nodding affirmatively. 

I gave them both a smile. "Don't be so dramatic by selling yourselves short. I'll bet your cooking is on equal par with your award winning poetry and writing."

"Alright Chef John. Cut the schmooze. What's going to happen when this "basic" soffritto is complete?" Debbie asked as she poked me in the ribs.

"Once caramelized, it'll become part of the sauce for my Chicken Scarpariello, which will be served with an Arugula Panzanella Salad, and Patate Rosse al rosmarino.

Sandra and Debbie cast glances at each other before Sandra questioned, "Scarpariello, arugula, panzanella, rosmarino, that's an awful lot of syllables, John?"

"What? You two phenomenal poets are concerned about a few syllables? Graham, pour me a two-finger rum please."

"It sounds like a lot, John," Sandra said. "That's all. I don't want you to work so hard doing this. We all appreciate you and your gesture. Really!"

"Thank you, Sandra," I said, "but this is a piece of cake. I'll be done in no time! Actually while the Scarpariello and potatoes are baking, I'll make the arugula panzanella salad then whip up a batch of zabaglione for dessert! Sound like a plan?"

"I just gained ten pounds listening to you," Debbie said. "Stasera mangeremo come dei re."(Tonight we're going to eat like royalty).

"Ah, Debbie," I said, "Questo perché io e Graham stiamo mangiando con i reali di FanStory."  (That's because Graham and I are eating with FanStory royalty.)