Double Jeopardy

     Double Jeopardy

Suzanne Marsh

My grizzly little story begins with a simple ad in the newspaper:

“Wanted head cook experience required.”

That wouldn’t work I had no real practical experience; just what my Mother had taught me preferably; not to burn water. I was disparate I need a job NOW. The lease on my apartment was due, I had no income. I decided that I would apply for the job. I knew the basics of cooking how complicated could it be? I rounded up my go to cook book. I sat down and thumbed through it; I hoped I would be convincing to the people who wanted a head cook. I was sort of hoping it would be a restaurant; but hoping and what happened are two very opposite things. I dialed the number; my hand shaking:

555-545-1235. The phone rang several times, then a cultured voice answered:

“Hello, Brumbee residence.”

“Yes, I am calling about the head cook job.”

“Young woman, if you would like to apply for employment please be kind enough to

arrive here at five thirty this afternoon. We will speak then.”

That seemed like a brush off, but honestly I was really interested. I hand wrote a resume immediately; I did not have the luxury of a lap top or desk top computer. My cell phone only allowed me to make phone calls no fancy things like texting.

Five thirty arrived; it seemed like I had just spoken to the person who was about to interview me. I hoped I looked professional in a white suit. My hair as usual was a pain; but hey what is a girl to do? The taxi took me to the address situated in Westchester, New York. I hoped they had live in staff otherwise I had a larger problem.

The lovely gray haired woman opened the door:

“Come in Miss, Mrs. Brumbee will see you in a moment.”

She smiled as she walked away. I sat waiting with anticipation then there she was. She seemed as if she were at least six feet tall, built like a linebacker as she looked curiously at me; as if I were an insect under a microscope. This interview made me very uncomfortable then this high pitched squeaky voice began:

“Hello my dear I am Ethel Brumbee, I placed the ad because I need a head cook. I don’t

have time to interview you as I should so I am going to hire you. You ah can cook?”

“Yes mam my Mother taught me to cook.”

“Good, tonight we are having company Senator Hugh Cathcart. Dinner must be special I wish

to have Crown Roast Pork with Mushroom Stuffing, as the main course. Coffee will be served

with dessert which will be Sous Vide Burlee. The vegetables you may choose. This is

an extremely important dinner.”

I gave her sort of a half smile, I had no idea how I was going to prepare a dinner I could barely pronounce. I got myself into this and I would get myself out of the predicament I now found myself in. Mrs. Brumbee looked aghast.

“Oh my dear you must wear the chef’s uniform, a white suit is very inappropriate.

There are uniforms in the closet off of the kitchen. Your room is off the kitchen. I

pay bi monthly twelve hundred every two weeks. I trust this is satisfactory.”

It more than satisfactory it was so much more.

“Yes Mrs. Brumbee it is more than adequate.”

I half curtsied as I rushed from the room. Mrs. Brumbee simply shook her head in wonder. I picked up my back pack, heading for the kitchen. I found the room I would occupy. I went in closed the door; dug out my go to cook book, reading like a fiend. I still had to go to the butcher for a pork crown roast. The fresh grocer for the mushrooms. I had no idea how to prepare Burlee. This was going to be an experience I will never forget. I had never cooked for another living being except my Mother; how was I ever going to cook for five people; especially a Senator. I have done some crazy things but this was beyond any expectation of mine. Cooking for myself, well at least I did not burn water so that was in my favor. I feverishly began to read about Burlee. The Burlee require six egg yolks, vanilla extract, salt, sugar and heavy cream. Reading the directions for the Burlee I just hoped that I could do it without my usual mess; somehow I knew Mrs. Brumbee would not be pleased with a messy kitchen.

I was still unsure of the crown pork roast but that at least seemed manageable or so I thought. I was concerned with Brulee more than anything else. The Brulee had to chill for at least four hours according to the recipe in my cook book. I gave the butler Hodges the shopping list. He was very gracious about taking the list. I just wondered if I had done something to offend him. He glowered at me as he walked by. I decided if that was the worst thing that happened I would survive this ordeal. In the interim I gathered the items I needed to begin the Brulee. It was one disaster after another. I managed to find a whisk. The eggs had to separated since the recipe called for egg yolks. The recipe called for ramekins. I had no idea what those were so I used small white bowls. They looked like the picture in the cook book. I was off to a good start.

I whisked the egg yolks together, while I heated the heavy cream. I had no clue what to do with the egg whites but they did not belong in the Brulee so I put the egg whites and shells down the garbage disposal. I still had the problem of chilling the Brulee. I thought about the freezer but then discovered that freeze was not the operative word. I had no choice now however: the freezer was my only option otherwise the Brulee would not be ready in time. I put five small bowls into the freezer; crossing my fingers. The delivery boy arrived with the crown roast of pork and the mushrooms. I had to have dried bread inorderto cube it. I remember Mom using dry bread from toast. Well, if it worked for Mom it would work for me. I quickly grabbed the toaster; a four slicer and began to dry the bread. I stared at the crown pork roast. I thought about the instructions I had read; I began in earnest to begin the roast. I found the tin foil; that was the easiest part of the whole meal. I grabbed a shallow roasting pan, wrapped the crown pork roast just as was shown in the pictures.

I then proceeded to make the mushroom stuffing. Mrs. Brumbee entered the kitchen to see how I was getting along. Other than the chef’s hat, that was hanging limply covering most of my face everything was fine. Periodically I would blow air up to get the hat out of my face. My face was red and dripping sweat; this did not bode well. I just hoped I could get Mrs. Brumbee out of the kitchen so I could finish the stuffing. The mushrooms, I sauteed carefully in butter...burned mushrooms are very unappetizing to say the very least. The bread cubed nicely. Now all I had to do was get the crown pork roast in the oven. It had to cook at least sixty minutes. I thought I had everything under control until I remembered the Brulee. I ran to the freezer; pulled open the door. The Brulee was frozen solid. Suddenly smoke began to billow from the stove. Instead of setting the oven for 350 degress I accidentally set it for 450 degrees.

I have no idea where Mrs. Brumbee came from but she came into the kitchen with woosh:

“What, my dear are you doing? I can’t serve burned whatever or oh good lord you froze

the Brulee. You are fired! Do you hear me fired!

I have never again prepared a meal for another living human being nor do I intend to.