My Culinary Love Story , livre ebook

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145 pages

English

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In a quaint English market town in the 1980s, Pauline Parry finds herself a divorced mother of two small children. A chance encounter leads her to a new life, one that begins in the most unlikely of places - a flat above a restaurant. There, she soon realizes her true calling as a culinary explorer, ready to embrace a passion for food that will guide her for life.But cooking isn't the only passion that Pauline discovers. As her professional rise takes her from Michelin-starred castle restaurants to California's famed Napa Valley, she's joined on the journey by Dennis, a handsome craftsman and confirmed bachelor - that is, until he meets Pauline.

Sujets

Philosophie et théologie

Memoir

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Publié par	Distributed by eBookpartnership
Date de parution	01 juin 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781915036278
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0350€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

First published in the United Kingdom and United States in 2022 by
Pauline Parry, in partnership with whitefox publishing
www.wearewhitefox.com
Copyright © Pauline Parry, 2022
ISBN 978-1-915036-28-5
Also available as an ebook
ISBN 978-1-915036-27-8
Pauline Parry asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author.
While every effort has been made to trace the owners of copyright material reproduced herein, the author would like to apologise for any omissions and will be pleased to incorporate missing acknowledgements in any future editions.
All photographs and illustrations in this book © Pauline Parry, unless otherwise stated.
Photograph on p. 5 by Megan Meza
Designed and typeset by Siulen Design
Cover design by Siulen Design
Illustrations by Janette Carpenter
Colour reproduction by Rhapsody Media
Project management by whitefox
Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY
This book is dedicated to our grandsons George and Miles
They were my inspiration to write the journey of why we left England to live in California
Contents

Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One An Unexpected Encounter
Chapter Two In the Mendips
Chapter Three A Snowy Christmas Eve
Chapter Four Our First Official Date
Chapter Five Children and Dating
Chapter Six Beaujolais, Picnics, and Children
Chapter Seven Meeting the Children
Chapter Eight Dinner at a Castle
Chapter Nine Two Proposals
Chapter Ten Falling in Love
Chapter Eleven Love Letters
Chapter Twelve A Trip to California
Chapter Thirteen Burgers and Beaches
Chapter Fourteen Back to Reality
Chapter Fifteen Wedding Bells
Chapter Sixteen The Holidays
Chapter Seventeen Final Decisions
Chapter Eighteen California Here We Come
List of Recipes

Prologue

My very first kitchen as a young single mother was above a bistro on a nondescript street in a small market town in England. To get to it, I had to go through the bistro’s kitchen and climb a flight of stairs, making sure to duck my head to avoid bumping the beam at the top, which I did a little more often than I care to admit.
I never minded this less than glamourous entrance. Entering my new home this way constantly enveloped me in beautiful, comforting aromas – slow-roasted lamb, a delicate pie crust, the pungent whiff of freshly chopped garlic.
My little kitchen had a sturdy table, a few chairs and very simple cooking equipment. To me, it was heaven. It was here that I learned who I was and what I was truly made of. Up until then I had been someone’s daughter, someone’s wife, someone’s mother. In this kitchen, at twenty-seven years old, I began to find out who I was as a woman and then as a cook. There would be other kitchens, other self-discoveries, but we never forget our first, do we?
In no time at all, I began to learn about the world of hospitality in England and later in America. My path wasn’t a “career” as such. I never set out with a destination in mind. But I stayed sharp and took advantage of every opportunity that came my way.
There were many hurdles, which at times seemed insurmountable. And yet, I kept making it over each one. Soon I realized that all these obstacles only made me stronger and success in the culinary hospitality world came much like the hurdles – when I least expected it.
My love of food led me to Dennis, my husband now of more than forty years. And it led me to a job at a Michelin-starred restaurant in a castle that I helped convert into a hotel – an establishment that is still there and doing well today. It led me to the Napa Valley, where I learned more about wine from people such as Robert Mondavi. And it led me to a lifelong joy of burgers and margaritas on the beach in Malibu.
In this book, I share my story with you. Food is an important part of it, as is love. Both are the foundation on which my marriage and my business are built. It’s the reason I say that everything I do has been guided by food, fun, and love.
I hope you will enjoy my story of where love and life can take you if you follow your passion and palate. As I said before, I didn’t have a plan in the seventies except to explore my two loves – Dennis and hospitality, both of which brought me to America, where I’m writing these words.
There is no way I could have imagined any of this at twenty-seven, sitting at that little kitchen table above a restaurant while my children slept. I was so busy I didn’t even have time to dream about the future. But then, dreams happen when you are asleep. In my culinary love story, I was always wide awake. The better to savor every delicious experience as it came my way.
CHAPTER ONE
An Unexpected Encounter

As the heavy wooden doors opened, the cold English wind and our first customers of the evening blew into Blostin’s, a popular bistro in the quaint market town of Shepton Mallet, in the Mendip District of Somerset. I could hear Bill, the owner, chef, and my boss, suggesting I greet them out front. It was unlike me to ignore his instructions, but I shut it all out briefly, giving in to one more moment of delicious love with the lamb Bill had prepared for the night’s menu. The best part of this job was that I not only got to see Bill at work in the kitchen, but, as we had a very small staff and I often did double duty as hostess and waitress, I also got to try all the food so I could answer questions about it when customers ordered.
I closed my eyes and slowly put another forkful in my mouth. It was his special braised lamb shank. Not only did it taste rich but the presentation was also beautiful. The lamb was served in a deep white bowl, embellished with a rosemary sauce made with a local dark beer and reduced for hours. The shank was placed on a helping of roughly mashed swede (which, when we had American customers, I made sure to call rutabaga), richened with butter, salt, and pepper. Roasted carrots finished with a rosemary sprig were served alongside. The aroma of the fresh rosemary begged me to breathe in this heavenly concoction as I took another mouthful.
I hadn’t had many jobs in my twenty-seven years and this was my first at a restaurant. I had married at twenty-one, become a mother at twenty-three and again at twenty-four and divorced at twenty-six. Yet I had found myself instantly at home in the kitchen and the dining room – particularly on a day like today. It was the winter of 1977 and we were having a cold snap. The weather was perfect for the braised lamb special. The meat had been delivered that morning, prepared by the butcher with the bone in. I had watched as Bill tied string around the meat.
“This will keep the meat from falling off the bone while cooking,” he explained as he deftly wound the string and tied it off in one easy move. “We need to keep the meat on the bone for presentation until the customer cuts into it and then it will fall off the bone.” Ah yes, that moment of beauty that lets the customer know they are in the hands of a master.
“Chop chop, Pauline!” Bill’s voice cut through my reverie.
“On it,” I called back, reluctantly leaving the lamb to go and greet the customers.
He laughed as I made my way back into the restaurant. But there wasn’t that much to do. It was about 6:30 p.m. and although it was winter and dark out since 4, the regulars never came in until about 8.
I found a couple waiting by the door to be seated. A first date? I wondered. This was the first time I had ever seen him or her. He had called earlier to be sure there was room and left his name –Dennis. He was quite tall and slender, with short blondish hair and a mustache. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes as he said hello and I found myself looking at him just a tad too long. He wore a brown corduroy jacket with leather elbow patches, a polo-necked sweater, gray slacks, and desert boots, which were in fashion.
He had his arm around the waist of the auburn-haired girl he had come in with. As they came toward me at the bar I thought, damn, they look so happy . What a shame as he’s quite dashing – my kind of chap.
Like all guests, the couple had come into the bistro from the street through an oversize door fitted with a brass doorknob. The doors led not into the restaurant at first but to a small cozy cottage sitting room with a wood-burning fire, a large chalkboard menu and a small table with two chairs. There was a window seat, half draped with a red velvet curtain, and a chaise longue for guests to sit on. The bar had been converted from a pine chest, behind which we stored all the mixers. Behind the bar, a mirror alcove with shel-ving was filled with glasses and spirits.
I took the couple’s coats and got them the drinks they ordered – Scotch for him, red wine for her – and then left them alone while they looked at the menu.
I fluffed the velvet drapes a bit as I walked back to the kitchen. The restaurant looked beautiful that night and the ambience was perfect for the French country food Bill served. The room was warm, romantic, and quaint, making it a perfect spot to take a date in Shepton Mallet.
I knew, because I had been on a first date here after my divorce. Andrew was the accountant of the building contractor I had taken a job with right after I split with my husband for good. He had a studious look and a shyness to him, which I think was why he could not always look me in the eye when we talked. But he did eventually get up the courage to ask me out and he took me to Blostin’s. The owners, Bill and Monica, were also his clients and after dinner we joined them at the bar.
Bill and Monica were a hip-looking young couple. Monica was Greek, slender with big dark eyes and long