How I Learned to Sniff the Blue

The Today Café’s extremely popular scampi recipe is called Don’t Call It Scampi. If it had been up to me, I would have called it something fancier. Something like, like…damn, I’m drawing a blank here. Maybe I’ve been in Licketyville too long. Maybe I need to go scampi-hopping in Beverly Hills with a fist full of Franklins.

No matter. This recipe is called what it’s called because I promised Louie that’s what we’d call it. It’s his recipe, after all. I just transcribed it between bug-eyed gurgles. For the full story, you’ll want to consult your handy copy of Recipe Rangers in the West, starting on page 164. Don’t have one? Or your old copy has been rendered illegible from loving overuse? No prob. You can get a fresh copy at Amazon.com. You know the drill.

But if you’re not yet an adventurous Type 3 type and need your book-buying pump primed (and because I have more heart than brains), you can download the recipe and the whole remarkable tale for free at www.reciperangers.org. It's number 9 on the free samples page, which also has a link to Amazon.

But this isn’t a commercial, after all. This is a mystery.

In our restaurant-sized recipe for Don’t Call It Scampi, we don’t just use white cooking wine. We use Liebfraumilch...Blue Nun, in fact. Why? How about the possibly provocative fact that it literally means "milk from the Virgin," "milk of our Lady" or "milk of our Blessed Mother" in German? Not culinary enough for you? Maybe it's that we like the sweet, fruity bouquet that brings the stronger, sharper flavors together in joyous ecstasy. Or something like that.

One of our cooks had an emergency a while back and I had to make up the scampi sauce myself. I was in a hurry, but I did all the right things right…except sniff the Blue Nun before pouring just the right amount. That’ll never happen again. I promise.

Lillian Gaspode was the first to comment. “Did you change the scampi recipe? Something seemed…different.” Lillian is nothing if not diplomatic.

Hank Mendoza’s comment was more direct. “Wal, podnuh, I b’lieve some critter mighta done somethin’ unpleasant in your scampi today. I hear the greasy grunts in the Corona brewery used to…”

“Thank you, Hank. I know where you’re going, but this is a G-rated blog. I’ll check into it, though.”

Both Lillian and Hank got marked down for free meals. You don’t like it, you get your next meal free. Whatever you want. That’s the official, unwritten, known-by-everybody-in-Licketyville, Today Café guarantee.

When three other regulars got free meals on account of scampi, we “ran out,” meaning that what was left of that batch was history, not food.

Yeah, the customer is always right. But in this case, they actually were. The scampi just didn’t taste right. Not gut-wrenching awful, but not right either. Definitely missing something. Every ingredient in that recipe checked out…until I gingerly put my lips to the Blue Nun. Nothing but about a cup of fragrant water in a magnum bottle.

I’ve heard of establishments watering their wine, but really! This was almost like the Holy Savior’s trick of turning water into wine, but done in a mirror, or by a dyslexic, or by somebody standing on his head.

Do I know who did it? Yep.

Do I know why? Yep. A certain somebody felt an urgent need to down the contents. And in the barely half-lucid state that followed, this certain somebody figured water would cover up the crime well enough. I’ve seen that somebody pull the wool over his/her own eyes like that way more than twice. Mystery solved.

What am I going to do about it? Nothing…except make sure that all of us cooks check the bottle before pouring.

Yesterday, I asked Hank Mendoza to test our latest perfect batch of Don’t Call It Scampi. Naturally, I also had to tell him my little detective story.

If you don’t know Hank, he’s a Licketyville old-timer. Used to be a real cowboy, and he’s got way more than his share of cowboy anecdotes. Hank leaned way back in his chair, tipped his battered straw hat forward, stuck a toothpick in the gap between his front teeth and gave me that one-eye squint of his. “You know, podnuh, us ol’ cowboys have this sure-fire method for tellin’ a horse from a jackass. Works like this. You go lead the critter down to some water. If it drinks, you got yerself a horse. If it don’t, it’s a damn jackass.”

Sometimes I hope I get reincarnated as a cowboy.

QUOTE OF THE DAY: “Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish.”
- - Euripides

What can I say after that?

Comments

[Edgy Mama]

I can't wait to check out the recipe. Your stories are wonderful, T.