Chapter 6 #2
The final task he’d set the group had been to have a go at making the radish roses, which Matteo had used to garnish the antipasti.
The enormous antique oak dining table, reminiscent of a royal banqueting table once it was fully laid out with its silver candelabras, condiment sets and cutlery for lunch or dinner, its matching high-backed dining chairs standing to attention around its impressive length, was already laden with platters of meats and cheeses.
Tad slid into a spare seat beside Kathleen, travelling solo and well into her seventies, hailing from a small mining town in the dusty outback of Australia.
She was viewing her European adventure as a bucket-list trip, although as far as Tad could tell there was plenty of life left in the fit and wiry antipodean.
‘I’m Kathleen from Kalgoorlie.’ Her introduction had been accompanied by a well-worn laugh, as though the joke was old enough to have become mandatory, even if it was no longer amusing.
‘I’m Tad from Torryburn, if that’s any help,’ he said.
‘Really?’ Kathleen’s expression had taken on a more enthusiastic edge.
‘Aye. It’s in Fife. I moved away to Edinburgh when I was seventeen to take up an apprenticeship in a restaurant, but I grew up in Torryburn.’
They shared a grin and Kathleen eyed the platters. ‘Do I have to take my own radish rose? Or can I steal one of the ones that actually looks like a flower?’
‘Which one is yours?’ Tad asked.
Kathleen pointed, pulling a face as she identified a pile of radish bits.
‘Oh. I think I need to check the knives are sharp enough,’ he said.
Kathleen laughed. ‘It’s got nothing to do with the equipment, Tad. It’s the wallaby operating it that’s the problem, at least it is in my case.’
‘Och, no. Surely not?’
The radish rose was disastrous – there was no getting away from facts – but Kathleen’s expression was animated as she spooned the radish onto her plate. ‘Can I be honest with you?’ she said.
‘Please,’ Tad said.
‘I’m not here because I want to become the next Australian MasterChef, I love cooking but there’s no pressure on you to transform me into a cooking goddess.
I’m already sure I’m going to break teeth when I try to eat my savoiardi biscuits.
What I do want, though, is to get the very best from being here.
It took me a decade to save for a trip like this and I doubt I’ll be coming again, so I want to make this visit really zing. Do you know Lake Garda well?’
Yet to have had time to see much of the lake, Tad felt disingenuous as he nodded. Kathleen’s expression was so genuine, he didn’t want to disappoint her. And he could always ask Matteo and Gianna for insider info.
‘Excellent. I need your top five picks for tourist visits designed to suit the older lady, if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Challenge accepted.’
As Kathleen chatted on and helped herself to some slices of bresaola beef and artichoke leaves, Tad’s gaze wandered across the table, to where Billie and her team had taken their seats.
Ron, the writer, had hustled into the seat beside Billie and, true to her word, Billie was asking him about his books.
She managed to maintain an expression of animation as Ron launched into a well-rehearsed monologue.
Hats off to Billie – in all honesty, he’d expected her to blow the bloke off; to pull the celebrity card and demand he should leave her alone.
Tad found his attention held as Billie forked cured meats onto Ron’s plate, nodding and grinning along with whatever he was saying. It was a convincing performance.
As Kathleen regained his attention, offering him a breadstick from a tall glass, Tad’s focus grazed over Amy, seated to the right of the photographer.
They caught one another’s eye, and as Tad looked at her, the inscrutable expression on her face altered, her hand running the length of her golden French plait as she frowned, then looked away.
* * *
Kathleen’s Savoiardi (ladyfinger) Biscuits
90g self-raising flour
1 tablespoon cornflour
⒈／⒉ teaspoon baking powder
1 pinch salt
2 large eggs (separated), room temperature
50g granulated sugar
⒈／⒉ teaspoon vanilla essence
2–3 tablespoons icing sugar for decoration
Preheat the oven to 190?C.
Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper
In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, cornflour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.
In a food mixer, beat the egg yolks, sugar and vanilla extract until light. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff.
By hand, fold the egg whites into the yolk mixture in three batches, making sure each addition is completely added before adding more. Continue until all the whites are added and the mixture is completely combined.
Fold the dry ingredients into the egg mixture in similar fashion. Then place the batter into a pastry bag with medium or large tip and squeeze sticks of mixture onto the parchment, about 2–2⒈／⒉cm long.
Sprinkle each biscuit with a pinch of granulated sugar and bake for approximately 10–12 minutes or until golden. Let the biscuits cool, then dust with icing sugar before serving with your zabaglione.
Kathleen favours making twelve large biscuits with her batter, but Tad said she could stretch the mixture to make fifteen, if she wants them to be more delicate.
She ate three of this batch with her pudding and they were bloody delicious.
Kathleen thinks they’ll go particularly well with a cup of strong tea.
Apparently, they keep well in a tin, too.