FOODFIC: Please Welcome Tricia Shiu, Author of Please Hold

About four years ago, on a searing Southern California afternoon, I came out to Tricia Stewart Shiu. It was a workday. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the event except for one small detail, which I’ll get to in a second.

She was driving on Pico Blvd. and making a left-hand turn into the Fox Studios Lot, when I sent out the news flash. As the information settled in, she managed to make her way to her parking spot, plod through the echoing NEB (New Executive Building) lobby and up to her reflecting fishbowl of an office. Wandering into the makeshift kitchen, her mind still abuzz, she filled the stainless steel electric kettle from the water cooler, pressed the button and waited for the rumbling boil.

Coffee had always been our ritual. In fact, it might have been one of the first things we did together. Every high-level executive assistant needs her “outlet” and that was ours. We’d chat for hours about all things work-related. It was during such conversations that her most prolific writing occurred. This time, though, she had no words.

Maybe I should have been more compassionate about my timing.

She silently grabbed a small coffee grinder, a bag of French roast beans, unfastened the clip, stuck her nose right into the bag’s opening and took a deep breath. Aside from the aroma of coffee, this was her favorite scent. The beans bounced into the grinder as she poured the oily darkness into the grinders container and held the button down, shattering the administrative quiet for exactly twenty seconds.

I’d noticed that Sarah had been a bit upset. It was probably because she sensed that I was holding something back, and well, I was. But from my perspective, timing is everything and Tricia just wasn’t ready for the information. Which brings me to the small, miniscule really, detail about my coming out to her. I, Sarah Marks, am the main character in her book, PLEASE HOLD. The coffee thing was our thing and this thing…I mean, finally telling her the truth…was a long, long time coming. Eight years to be exact.

She wiped the coffee grounds into the trash, then moved to the sink to meticulously wash and rinse the glass carafe and mesh plunger.

Damn, still no words! I hope I didn’t break her. I’m sure it’s happened before with other authors, why not Tricia? Maybe she thinks it’s all in her head? If that’s true, she will have sorely missed the point of “truth telling.” Within each of us we have a core Truth. As we uncover the layers, we slowly open up to our own knowing and, eventually, by telling those closest to us, we encourage others to uncover their own Truth.

After all these years of friendship and hard work invested, I can’t imagine she’d scrap the book.

She slowly counted the scoops as she inhaled in the nutty brown scent. Then, in a perfectly timed, “pop,” she grabbed the kettle and poured the steaming water into the french press. With a loud exhale, she stirred the mixture with a metal spoon before placing the plunger into the press and pushing it down. The remainder of the boiling water went into her usual white mug.

Ten minutes can be excruciating when you can’t read someone’s thoughts.

No timer needed. Tricia tossed the water out of the mug and poured the steamy brew into her pre-heated mug. During my wait, I had a lot of time to think. Screw her if she was blind to my Truth! Just because she is heterosexual doesn’t preclude her from kindness, understanding and acceptance.

Holding the mug up to her face, she inhaled the warmth and took her first sip. Savoring the experience, she exhaled and whispered, ever so gently, “I’m so proud of you, Sarah.”

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Tricia!

You can find Tricia here:

TStewartShiu.com

Twitter @tstewartshiu

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Jean Knight Pace, Author of Grey Lore

Grey Lore is really not at all about baking. It’s about a girl whose mother dies so she’s whisked away to live with an aunt she’s never met. It’s about a boy who’s lived in fourteen states in the last three years. It’s about wanting to fit in and not fitting in at all. It’s about trying to find your place with people who care. Also, it’s about werewolves (because you were totally getting that from the rest of my description, right?) It’s about a sleepy little town buried in secrets--a town that starts to wake up as Ella and Sam discover things about their pasts and themselves.

But a lot of cookies get baked, too. That’s because one of the main characters, Zinnie, seems to subsist only on cookies and herbal tea. In my first book, Grey Stone, she brought us some amazing Cinnamon Oatmeal Crispies. Here's that snippet from the book:

She got up and hobbled to what looked like a very old stove to retrieve the next batch of cookies. “You may call me Zinnie,” she said, even though Sam hadn’t tried to call her anything. “Now, what is your name?”

“Sam,” he said, clearing a spot for the cookies she was carrying.

The cookies were thin little things, like puddles on the pan. If Sam had pulled them out of the oven, he would have thrown them all in the garbage. But the old woman didn’t. She handed Sam a dish towel, which he put on the table so Zinnie could set down the hot, flat cookies.

“Help me out, dear,” she said. Expertly, Zinnie took a cookie and, using the handle of a wooden spoon, she rolled the flat cookie around the handle so that it formed into a small cone while it was warm. She looked at Sam, waiting. “Give it a try,” she said, handing him the spoon. “It’s not that hard once you get used to it. And after we’re done, we’ll fill them with cream.”


In the companion book, Grey Lore (just released December 7th!), Zinnie is back, albeit somewhat changed. Her cookies are back too, although you can see they’ve altered over the years as well.

Some things grow even better with time. :)

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Jean!

You can visit Jean here:

JeanKnightPace.com

Twitter @JeanKnightPace

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Assaph Mehr, Author of Murder in Absentia

History, Fantasy, and Food

Take one of the greatest empires the world has ever seen. At its peak it controlled vast swathes of land and many different cultures – and their associated cuisines. But what happens when you add a fantastical element to the mix?

Hi all. I’m Assaph Mehr, and I write historical-urban-fantasy – or, as I like to call them, Stories of Togas, Daggers, and Magic. Though set in a fantasy world, the background tapestry is based on the culture of ancient Rome, and to give this world authenticity and richness I do a lot of research in to ancient daily lives.

This, of course, covers food. My protagonist, cheapskate that he is, never passes on the opportunity for a free meal. And when invited to a feast, he very naturally, notes what delicacies were served – together with his somewhat deadpan reaction to them.

This leads us to the meat of this article (pun intended), namely, Fantastic Beasts and How to Cook Them. The world, being based on ancient Rome and Greece, hosts some mythological beasts.

Apicius et al already mentions dishes with ingredients that may sound strange to us. Patina is a Roman dish, somewhere between an omelette and custard. Asparagus and quails may sound like reasonable toppings, but how many of us would join Lucullus when dined on dined on jellyfish patina? Or join my protagonist when he has his favourite, childhood-memories-inducing, brains-and-pine-nuts sausage?

Drizzled with fish-sauce, of course. I always wanted to explore the production of Roman fish sauce – or garum – and, luckily, in the course of one adventure it so transpired that my protagonist – Felix – had to visit just such a factory. Garum, for the uninitiated, is made from salt-fermented fish-guts. As one modern recreator described it, the smell is akin to nasal napalm. Yet the Romans used it as we use ketchup, sprinkled liberally on everything. I sometimes think that writing is just my excuse to study about a period in history I love, from the olfactory-safe haven of my study.

The Romans also had a very practical outlook on life. What do you do with a captured gryphon? Why, you pit it against a bestiarius in the circus arena, naturally! The crowds were well pleased. It was a show to remember for years to come.

Of course, once the beast was slain, there was still a huge carcass to dispose of. Enter Felix again, with his epicurean tendencies. For reasons we shall not go into here, he required some of the tail feathers and sample internal organs of the gryphon. Being a tad loose in the morals department he ended up conning his way into the kitchens to gain access to the beast. He got what he wanted, but that cost him assisting the cook in the preparation of that night’s feast.

Which featured, you guessed it, the unique delicacy of gryphon meat:

The cook walked in after the beast, carrying his knives, and a train of slaves followed carrying plates. He proceeded to carve out bits of both the bird and animal parts and lay them on the plates. The first plate went to Aulus Paulinus who, after the briefest moment of apprehension, smiled and tasted the meats. He looked pleased, and raised a toast to his guests. I was certain some hapless slave had been force-fed this meat before it got to us though, just to make sure that the cook and I had indeed removed all traces of poison. Our turn came, as well, and a slave girl put down the plate with cuts of meat before us. While my little charmed wine had done the trick and the beast was well roasted, I have to say that the lion part was a bit gamy and the bird parts, while nice, tasted remarkably like chicken.

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Assaph!

You can find out more about Assaph and his

culinarily curious protagonist Felix here:

Egretia.com

Twitter @AssaphMehr

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

Assaph has been a bibliophile since he learnt to read at the age of five, and a Romanophile ever since he first got his hands on Asterix, way back in elementary school. This exacerbated when his parents took him on a trip to Rome and Italy - he whinged horribly when they dragged him to "yet another church with baby angels on the ceiling", yet was happy to skip all day around ancient ruins and museums for Etruscan art. 

He also loves to cook, and says he will eat almost anything at least once. Though his family has curtailed some of his more experimental endeavors, he hopes some of dishes – in addition to his books, of course – will go down in the annals of history as an achievement worth repeating.

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Carole Brown, Author of The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman

Country cooking for Caralynne Hayman is as common as the West Virginia mountains. A method to keep her sanity in a difficult environment and provide her girls with healthy, homemade food.

Caralynne is angry and bitter over the death of her eleven-year-old daughter, but when Dayne MacFarland re-enters her life, Cara is torn between her determination to render revenge upon the murderer and Dayne's love. Can she have both?

When Dayne returns home, determined to bring the truth to the people he’s known all his life, he rediscovers Cara and realizes the love he once felt for her is still deeply embedded within his heart. But can Dayne's love for Caralynne bridge the gulf of anger and bitterness that divides the community? Or will Caralynne's deadly secrets prove too high a price for her redemption?

Amid all the angst and trouble in this small community, Caralynne's cooking is a gleam of hope. Even when some of the ladies belittle her cooking abilities, Cara knows jealousy is at the root of their problem. For her? She has people like Dayne who sample and enjoy such temptations as her apple pie and cherry cobbler.

Here's the recipe for Caralynne Hayman’s Cherry Mountain Pie . . .

• Melt one stick of butter in round pan (I suppose you could use square, but I can’t see how that could improve the flavor!)
• Pour thickened, sweetened cherries (you can use canned cherry pie filling, but really? Who doesn’t want the “real” thing? We’re not talking easy! ) into the pan

Dough:
Stir one cup sugar, 1 ½ cup of self-rising flour and ¾ cup milk together. Pour batter onto top of cherries.

Bake till brown 350 degrees.
Enjoy!

Caralynne received this recipe from my mother. We children thought it was divine! The only problem? I wasn’t crazy about cherries so I always requested “no cherries” (the juice was okay), and my patient mother dipped out nice chewy crust with lots of juice onto my plate and topped it with ice cream.  Hmmm. Delicious. 

And to prove to you that Caralynne Hayman's an excellent cook, here's a short excerpt where Dayne MacFarland, the preacher, praises her apple pie. And since he'd always adored her, that was an easy task. :)


Chapter 15 Excerpt on Cara's apple pie:

“What shall I do with this?”

Kathy Raymond popped from behind Ruby Simmons and sniffed. “What did you bring?”

“Meatloaf.”

Another indignant sniff. “Common.”

“And cherry cobbler,” Cara offered. Nothing she did ever pleased Kathy Raymond.

“Ruby brought cherry cobbler. Two of them. You know very well our men love her pies. You should have brought something else.”

“Can you ever have too much pie?” Cara ordered herself to smile. Sticking out her tongue seemed way too childish and improper and would let them know she was miffed. “My pie is different. The preacher liked it.”

“Liked what?” Dayne stepped up beside her.

“My cherry cobbler.” Cara allowed her eyes to twinkle at him.

Dayne strolled away but tossed over his shoulder. “Delicious stuff. Best I've ever eaten.”



Tempted to try it? Dayne sure was! I think it might have sealed the deal on the love between them—at least for him. :)  Check it out at the link below and see for yourself why The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman is a best seller!

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Carole!

You can find Carole here:

Sunnebnkwrtr.blogspot.com

Twitter @BrownCarole212

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Jessica Knauss, Author of Awash in Talent

Awash in Talent welcomes you to Providence, Rhode Island, where ten percent of the population can move objects telekinetically, set fires with their minds (or extreme emotions), or observe your thoughts as if they were a TV series. Although this Providence is a fantasy, it’s based on the real capital of Rhode Island, a place I love for all its uniqueness.

You couldn’t experience Providence without Rhode Island cuisine. To start with some of the lingo, Rhode Islanders call milkshakes “cabinets” and pronounce quahog (a local clam; try it stuffed) as if it were spelled “co-hog.” They drink coffee milk made with a special syrup that’s sold right next to Hershey’s, the bread comes from Portugal and is lightly sweet, and some of their best pizza comes from bakeries!

Awash in Talent is made up of three stories, and the one that pays most attention to food is told from the point of view of native Rhode Islander Kelly. She’s recently and unpleasantly discovered that she’s pyrokinetic, and has been sent to an obligatory school to control her Talent for making flames with her mind. In spite of all her worries, Kelly has time to enjoy cold and hot snacks at the outdoor festival WaterFire:

At the bridges, there were a couple of vendor stands. One had soft drinks and lemonade ice, which were probably a big hit during the summer, but didn’t really appeal now. My hands were frozen and my nose was starting to run.

“Want anything?” Brian asked.

“I didn’t bring any money,” I said.

“I did,” he said with that sweet smile.

The ice vendor also had t-shirts, bags, hats, and prints of WaterFire, and I desperately wanted to own one of those items with the logo (Is it water? Is it fire?), but I couldn’t let him buy something for me. It didn’t seem right.

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, but I’m getting some Red Hots.”

I looked, and the other vendor was all about fire. Hot chocolate, jalapeños, Firebrand chili, and Red Hot candies. His stall was pretty popular, and we waited in line for I don’t know how long. I watched the people, listened to the eclectic mix of music, and inhaled the fragrant smoke that wafted over from the river. All while holding Brian’s hand, by the way.

Kelly also has time to delight in a magnificent Thanksgiving spread at her boyfriend’s house:

I have no idea how they were planning to fit more food anywhere, but they did. When it was dinner time, at about four, everyone gathered in the dining room. Through the crush of people—there must have been thirty of us all told—I could see the giant turkey, all the fixings you could imagine and some I’d never seen before, and ten—I counted!—kinds of pie for dessert. Imagine the cacophony of sweet, spicy, salty, and meaty aromas.

This scene is based on some large New England holiday gatherings I have sweet memories of. Sure, New Englanders can be hard to get to know. Once you’re in, though, you’re family.

Pick up Awash in Talent if you’d like to live high on the (qua)hog!

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Jessica!

You can visit Jessica here:

www.JessicaKnauss.com

Twitter @JessicaKnauss

Facebook Fan Page 

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Peggy Chambers, Author of The Apocalypse Sucks

Molly and Sandra couldn’t be more different.  They were once just co-workers, but found themselves relying on each other for survival after the virus took out almost everyone they ever loved.

At first, they lived off the vending machines in the basement of the fifteen-story building where they used to work, and now lived.  Of course, it didn’t take long for the supply of Twinkies and Dr. Pepper to dry up.  They had to find real food.  The shelves were emptying in the stores, and that meant there were other survivors. Soon, they had to get out and find them.

During a trip to what was left of the mall for lip gloss and bras, they ran across a couple of survivors they might like to meet.  And the girls were invited to dinner.  Cute guys and dinner?  What post-apocalyptic girl could say no to that?  And they were served fresh strawberries – and wine.

What was left of the town looted until there was nothing in the stores and then they had to restore the food supply. They might even have to learn to cooperate.  Some gardens were popping back up in the spring with perennials, and living in the wheat belt meant there were reserves in the grain elevators.  But it had to be ground into flour and what was left of the population had to learn to take care of themselves.  Food delivery trucks were a thing of the past.

If all else failed, there was always Goulash, a mixture of whatever was available in the form of leftovers, etc.   Here is a version you could make after the Apocalypse:

POST APOCALYPTIC GOULASH
1 can of Green Beans
1 can of other beans or corn
1 can of any type of tomatoes you can find
1 can of Corn Beef Hash or chopped Spam
Salt, pepper and any other spices you can find (they will help a lot)

After scrounging the grocery stores in the area that still have non-perishables left, mix the above ingredients together and warm in large pot over a campfire. Serve in any container you can find that is reasonably clean or wash it in the community pond.  If no canned goods are available in the grocery stores, break into the houses that are now vacant.  (Be careful to step over the dust outlines on the floor, they are what is left of your neighbors.)
Serve with any good red wine or bottled water if available.  Twinkies make a good dessert for this or any other meal. Serves as many as are sitting around the fire. Can be eaten cold if necessary.


The Apocalypse Sucks is a fun romp through a post-apocalyptic world through the eyes of two young, single women who no longer worry about pantyhose and date night.  Survival is the goal. But if you can’t make fun of the apocalypse, what can you make fun of?

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Peggy!

You can find Peggy here:

PeggyChambers.com

Twitter @ChambersPeggy

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Debra Chapoton, Author of SHELTERED

Preparing lavish dinners never happens in the old haunted house Ben provides for four homeless teens: Cori, Chuck, Adam and Emily. In the suspense novel, Sheltered, a taste for freedom, acceptance, or revenge is on their tongues more than any other flavor. Packing school lunches with plain old peanut butter sandwiches is a chore left to Emily. Her heart is breaking over Ben when he rents the last room to pretty little Megan. Megan should have been thinking about formula and baby food and how she could regain custody, but that ends up on the stove’s back burner when she falls for Ben.

Spaghetti, macaroni and cheese, and of course pizza are the staples when you have an unwed mom, schizophrenic twins, and a Goth teen taking turns cooking. With so many problems in one stitched together household mealtime can be the most stressful of all, even if they stick to comfort food.

Strange things begin to happen, not only in the kitchen, but in the attic and the basement. Maybe the ghosts or demons or whatever are preparing their own feast. Any ideas what they’d want to devour?

And then there’s the vending machine at school. When Emily spots Chuck—or is it Adam?—hiding out there she stops thinking about chocolate, the weird things she’s seen at the house and even her own self-inflicted wounds … because something worse than the paranormal happenings at home is about to happen.

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Debra!

You can find Debra here:

BigPineLodgeBooks.com

Twitter @Debra_Chapoton

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Eldritch Black, Author of The Book of Kindly Deaths

Unearthly Delights

Greetings, my name is Horasmythe Spindlecleft, also known as the gourmet of gourmets. If you've ever dined in my modest little Inn "The Fat Cobblefoot", situated on the side of the Foggypeake mountains, you'll be well aware of my extensive knowledge of food and of the finer things in life.

By now you've no doubt heard of my infamous twice-fried bat wings and hair of Hackthin tart, creations of exquisite beauty, though I say so myself. Not to mention my highly regarded Doormouse eye on toadstall and very-berry-sherry sauce.

So it's with great pride that I can announce I've been appointed chief scribbler of food reviews for the Grimwytch Gazette. Below are the first of many pearls of wisdom concerning places where weary travelers may sip and gorge upon unearthly delights. Outside of The Fat Cobblefoot, of course. And of places that should be be avoided like Fungal-throat plague.

The Malady Inn

A Fairly good stock of Old Catwhist, shame about the clientele.

The Malady Inn is a worn old building on the side of the Eastern Blackwood Road. Inside is a cosy, dingy room and its fairly affable landlord, Mr. Barrow. His bar is well stocked for the most part, although not to the scale of The Fat Cobblefoot.

I chose a dish of sainted duck, goat-foot soup and a pint of Old Bramble's Tipsy. It was an adequate meal until a table of Babbleslithers sat beside me and ruined the meagre ambience. Upon finishing their food, one of the more portly among them threw up his entire course through his left eye.

An unpleasant, vulgar end to a mediocre, but serviceable evening.

Malumdell

Never Again!

I'd once visited this once-quaint little town in my youth. Gone were the cozy little houses and groves of apple trees, and in their place, ash, charcoal, rot and ruin.

There was nowhere to eat on account of the whole town being burnt to the ground and on top of that I had to deal with a Hoardspike. She managed to consume two of my servants right in front of me and it was only upon offering her my vast collection of dried trotters that she let me go.

A once enchanted town, now a foul, dismal place.

The Midnight City Uncle Horace Eiderstaark's Fabulous Pie Stand, Greshtaat District

As dull and flaky as dandruff.

I'd heard many tales of Uncle Horace's pies. It was with great caution that I entered the hodgepodge Greshtaat District. That caution was well placed. A revolting, stinking pile of bricks and dribbles.

Upon finding the Pie Stand, manned by the bald, sweating wreck of Uncle Horace himself, I purchased a pie. It only took two mouthfuls before I was forced to spit it out, such was its monstrous blandness. Unfortunately, one of the maggots used to garnish the pie struck Horace in the face as I expelled my food, bringing forth the rancor of the Eiderstaarks. We fled and escaped, asides from one servant who I last saw being dragged into a ramshackle building.

The Midnight City Vashhaal Wharf

Fine food, peasanty atmosphere.

Yes, the Kishspick stew is indeed delicious, were it not ruined by the lowlife teeming in from the boats. I thrashed two with my cane for their sheer ugliness, before a vulgar crowd formed and chased me, hacking to death my remaining servants. I only just escaped by the skin of my back teeth and bid a hasty retreat.

The Twisted Entrails Inn*

Two putrid turnips for the food, a rotten onion peel for the atmosphere.

This public house has somehow stood in the heart of the Midnight City for centuries. Upon entering, I was almost certain the place would fall down around my ears.

The ambience could be described as raw and *bloody*. A dense crowd of locals, most as thick as treacle, stood swaying at the bar as broken broken refrains from a derelict piano filled the sour air. I made the mistake of ordering the soup of the day, something that appeared to be a broth of grease containing chunks of indeterminate liver. And thumb. My soup was as cold as a serpent's tooth on a winter's evening. I sent it back at once and called the owner over and–**

* Please note the Grimwitch Gazette found this last review spattered with blood and sitting below a table in The Twisted Entrails Inn.

** Of Mr. Spindlecleft, there was no sign.

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Eldritch!

You can find Eldritch here:

EldritchBlack.com

Twitter @EldritchBlack

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Jeffrey Beesler, Author of Speed Demons

Hey, Shelley! Thanks for hosting me today on your blog! Hello, everybody. I’m Jeff, here to discuss the foods featured in Speed Demons. So, without further ado, let’s get right to it.

Speed Demons takes place in a small town called Helensview. My characters can be found eating at two different locations in that town. One place is called the Eat’N’Grease, a small diner that doesn’t get much business these days as something mysterious has happened to most of the town. As you might guess, the Eat’N’Grease Diner features foods like eggs, sausage, hash browns, fries, hamburgers, and just about anything that drips grease all over you. One scene finds Chase Weaverson, the main character, eating cherry cobbler as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

The other location is the mini-mart of Helensview’s newest gas station. In one scene, it isn’t Chase or Gus Peddle who are eating food, but rather the rampaging Speed Demons. Aisles of chips and soda are utterly ravaged, the Demons shredding and puncturing the packaging with their talons. While Chase is worried for his life, Gus Peddle flips out over the fact that the Demons aren’t paying for their food. This leads Chase to suspect Peddle of knowing more than what Peddle claims.

Is there something behind Chase’s suspicions? Or are the Demons simply fond of junk food? One thing I know is that I won’t leave my potato chips and candy bars lying around if I ever visit Helensview!

Hey, thanks for reading. If you want to know more about yours truly well, I’m an author of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror stories. When I’m not busy hoarding gas station junk food from the Speed Demons, I’m usually listening to Weird Al Yankovic and playing computer games.

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Jeff!

You can find Jeff and his books here:               

                                                                        JeffBeesler.blogspot.com

Twitter @ZomBeesler

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

Mailing List

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Back Luke Murphy, Author of Wild Card

I’m Canadian, born and raised. For a ten year stretch, from the mid-nineties to 2005, I lived in the United States. These are the two countries I know, so it made sense to set my novels in these countries.

My first novel, Dead Man's Hand, was set in Las Vegas. My second novel, Kiss & Tell, set in Los Angeles. Canada and the United States, both in North America, are very similar when dealing with things like foods, language, culture, activities, etc.

But for my new novel, Wild Card, I challenged myself. Part of Wild Card is set in South America, more specifically, Brazil and Colombia. So the internet was my friend, and played a key role in my research, especially when learning special dishes because let’s face it, my characters have to eat.

I learned that breakfast is usually lighter for Brazilians, to save room for bigger lunches. Coffee and tropical fruits are big in both countries. Rice is very popular in Colombia and served with most dishes.

Special dishes from Brazil & Colombia (there are many more, I know, but I chose one for each meal):

Breakfast

(Brazil) Skillet toasted French bread rolls (pão na chapa) is a favorite quick breakfast that you can buy at your local bakery and enjoy with pingado (warm milk with sweetened coffee).

(Colombia) Migas de Arepa: Migas means “crumbs”. Scrambled eggs with pieces of arepa and tomato-onion sauce is a popular breakfast served in Colombia. Can be served with chorizo, avocado and beans.

Lunch

(Brazil) Pastel, a deep fried thin pastry filled with either savory fillings, the most common of which are minced meat, chicken, shrimp, mozzarella, palm heart and catupiry cream cheese. There are also sweet fillings such as guava and cheese, chocolate, doce de leite, banana and cinnamon.  It is believed the Japanese introduced pastel into Brazilian cuisine by adapting deep fried Chinese wontons.

(Colombia) Tamales: There are many variations of tamales in Colombia, but they all have something in common—Colombian Tamales are all wrapped in banana leaves. Served with rice.

Supper
 
(Brazil) Feijoada is arguably the national dish. It is a recipe of thick black bean stew served with rice and a variety of pork meats. It was invented by the slaves who were brought from Africa, during colonisation to work in the large estates and plantations in Brazil. The slaves would smuggle the leftover food from their masters’ houses and make a stew.

(Colombia) Puchero Santafereño is a dish named after Santa Fé de Bogotá, the capital of Colombia. Puchero is a dish that originated in Spain, as is the case with many other Colombian dishes. Puchero Santafereño is a hearty and filling stew that usually includes beef, chicken, pork, plantain, yuca, potatoes, corn, chorizo, and cabbage.

It’s always fun to learn about new cultures, and the foods that are served in those countries.

Thanks for stopping by again to share more food for thought, Luke!

You can find Luke here:

AuthorLukeMurphy.com

Twitter @AuthorLMurphy

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

Luke Murphy is the International bestselling author of Dead Man’s Hand (Imajin Books, 2012) and Kiss & Tell (Imajin Books, 2015).

Murphy played six years of professional hockey before retiring in 2006. His sports column, “Overtime” (Pontiac Equity), was nominated for the 2007 Best Sports Page in Quebec, and won the award in 2009. He has also worked as a radio journalist (CHIPFM 101.7).

Murphy lives in Shawville, QC with his wife, three daughters and pug. He is a teacher who holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Marketing, and a Bachelor of Education (Magna Cum Laude).

Wild Card, a sequel to Dead Man’s Hand, is Murphy’s third novel.

More about Wild Card:

This time, it’s not a job.

After proving his innocence as a murder suspect, taking down an assassin, and being an instrumental part in solving a high profile murder, Calvin Watters believes he can finally move on—until Ace Sanders’ prison escape catapults him into action.

This time, it’s personal!

Something has always bothered Detective Dale Dayton about the arrest of Ace Sanders. Call it police intuition, but his inner ‘cop alarm’ keeps twitching. When Dale reopens the case, he’s introduced to new evidence that leads him into a political nightmare.

Who will play the Wild Card to survive?

While Calvin tracks Sanders across continents and into unknown, unfriendly surroundings, Dale remains in Vegas to uncover the truth behind police corruption, prison escapes, and hired assassins. But Calvin and Dale must be vigilant, because there’s a deadly, new player in town.

Reviews:

“All the danger, treachery, and action a thriller reader could wish for.  Luke Murphy has the touch.”

—Steve Berry, New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Order

“Hold on for a wild ride that doesn’t end until the last page.”

—Jordan Dane, bestselling author of the Sweet Justice series

“Murder, sex, hackers…an elaborate criminal chess game: Luke Murphy delivers.”

—Bryan Gruley, author of the Starvation Lake trilogy

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Rachel Rawlings, Author of The Morrigna

Welcome to Salem, MA. Home of Maurin Kincaide, psychometric and all-around representative of the paranormal community; whether she wants to be or not. Restaurants in town offer the usual pub fare, unless you’ve accidentally wandered into Toil and Trouble. If so, whether or not the Blood Sausage is fresh is the least of your worries; because this local haunt isn’t on the tour.

You’ve heard of Starbuck’s secret menu? The ol’ double T has one of those too. Wine lists range from Merlot to O; positive or negative that is and the steak is served rare. There’s the occasional elixir and farm to table is more like herb garden to table. So far, the norms have remained blissfully unaware.

Maurin’s been known to solve more than one problem after a few lemon drop shooters artfully crafted by Toil and Troubles bartender, Mike. But her favorite brew isn’t from a cauldron or the local micro-brewery.

A witch may be the purveyor, but even the squarest of norms can feel magic in these beans. Daily Grind, home of Salem’s best Dirty Chai latte, has earned the Maurin seal of approval. Much like me, she has a love affair with coffee. In any form, hot, cold or beans covered in chocolate served from a candy dispenser, Maurin hasn’t met a coffee she hasn’t liked. And that includes the sludge they try to pass as coffee at Salem’s Preternatural Task Force.

While her tastes have progressed from coffee lighter than her porcelain complexion to a cup so strong and dark a spoon could stand up straight in the mug, Maurin’s go to comfort drink is usually a Dirty Chai. Part espresso, part Chai tea, this nectar of the Gods is combined with steamed milk to create the perfect Autumn drink.

Not convinced? Try this simple recipe at home. Or, order one off Starbuck’s secret menu.

Brew chai tea bag in boiling water. Remove tea bag.
Pour coffee over tea.
Put milk in a mason jar or plastic container with lid. Shake until frothy.
Remove lid and microwave for 30 seconds.
Top with a dash of cinnamon. Sweeten with sugar if desired.

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Rachel!

You can find Rachel here:

RachelRawlings.com

Twitter@RachelsBooks

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Patricia Sands, Author of Drawing Lessons

Heartbreak is never easy. Arianna Papadopoulos-Miller arrives, from Toronto, in the Alpilles area of the south of France on a quest to rediscover the artist she once was and move forward with her life.

She is welcomed on the terrace of the 200-year-old mas (farmhouse) where she will spend two weeks with 7 other artists. From that moment, gastronomy becomes a feature of her stay. But, hey … alors … it’s France!

Foie gras on toasted rounds of baguette and local olives accompany the chilled champagne, poured in slender hand-blown glass flutes. A toast is made to the beginning of an exciting two weeks of drawing and painting … and other unimagined experiences.

And so it begins.

“La grande charcuterie!” Maurice announced as three large slabs of olivewood were proudly presented by the kitchen staff. Each bore a colorful display of meats.

Maurice gave a guided tour of each artistically arranged platter. “We have thinly sliced prosciutto as well as jambon cru . . . local uncured ham that will melt in your mouth. Here we have our very special saucisson d’Arles, native to our area in particular. It’s a dry sausage that used to be made a century ago from—don’t gasp, please—donkey meat.”

In spite of themselves, there was a slight gasp.

“It is nowadays made of beef and pork fat with some garlic and black pepper. Magnifique! Only certain local charcutiers make it—c’est authentique! And finally, there are grilled lamb chops, seasoned to perfection. We are famous for lamb in Provence. You will see why!”

His hand moved on to the end of the platter, and his level of enthuthsiasm increased even more. “Pâté maison, la recette de mon arrière-grand- mère! Very smooth. It’s made with chicken livers, lemon, onion, and herbs de Provence. Plus”—with this, he raised his fingers to his lips, as if sharing a secret—“what makes hers special is . . . a touch of fromage de Neufchâtel.”

He nodded conspiratorially, the gleam in his eye never fading as he continued. “And also her even more famous pâté en croute. It’s a coarse and rich terrine of mixed ground meats with peppercorns and pistachios. After being cooked in aspic, it is wrapped in a rich, buttery crust, coated inside with lard. C’est vraiment extraordinaire!”

“And ever so fattening!” Bertram interjected.

Maurice responded with humor. “Don’t even think about calories or cholesterol when you eat in France. Simply enjoy! A little bit never hurt anyone! Even too much on certain days never hurt anyone. We only live once!”

“Can you tell my husband is a true ‘foodie’?” Juliette interjected with a grin.

Maurice bowed with an extravagant flourish as applause reverberated around the table. “Champagne goes very well with this meal, if you care to continue, or we have a fine Châteauneuf-du-Pape red—and, of course, always there is beer for those who prefer.”

After he slipped his arm around Juliette’s waist, they wished everyone in unison, “Bon appétit!”

During the meal, Maurice answered questions about the difference between a boucher, a butcher who sells raw meat, and a true charcutier, someone who prepares the foods they were eating.

“Of course,” he explained, “you will discover we can thank the Ancient Romans for many of our traditions.”

And that was just the beginning … from breakfasts of warm, buttery croissant, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins, farm fresh eggs and fruit straight from the orchard through exquisite multi-course meals (or sometimes simple but delicious baguette sandwiches) ... and then there is a simple green salad followed by cheese. Lots of cheese choices! The grand finale consists of luscious desserts of crème brulée, profiteroles, crêpes, gateaux, tarte tatin, tarte au citron … Are you full yet? You may think I’m exaggerating, mais non! And somehow over there, it all works as hours are spent savouring and appreciating each morsel. Bon appétit!

Along with the food, Drawing Lessons is a story about friendship, art, discovery and hope … set amidst the beauty of Arles and the unique Camargue, in the Bouches-du-Rhône area of the south of France.

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Patricia!

You can find Patricia here:

PatriciaSandsAuthor.com

Twitter @Patricia_Sands

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Caroline Clemmons, Author of The Texan's Irish Bride

Thank you, Shelley, for inviting me to your fun blog. One of the things all characters (as well as readers and writers) do is eat. Usually, authors don’t dwell on the food served. In his or her head, though, the writer knows all the delicious recipes that will be prepared.

In my book The Texan's Irish Bride, Dallas McClintock hosts a huge party for his family and friends and for the wedding of his brother-in-law and one of the Traveler lasses. This group includes the McClintock family and that of his bride, Cenora O’Neill McClintock.

Dallas prepares his secret chili recipe for the party. Yes, he keeps it a secret but—shhhh—I’ll share it with you.* Now that the weather is cooling in most areas, chili is a welcome meal on a cold night. (I love it year round.) It’s easy to prepare in large batches for a party. If there’s any left over, chili freezes well for a quick meal later.

Chili is a favorite for entertaining at our house. I provide dishes of tortilla chips, grated cheese, minced spring onions, pinto beans, cornbread muffins, butter, and honey as well as serving potato salad and other chilled salads. In my opinion, chili is a traditional Southwest food that has gained popularity throughout the United States.

When I wrote The Texan's Irish Bride, book 1 of the McClintock series, I did a lot of research. After its release, many readers asked for a book about Finn O’Neill, older brother of Cenora. Once again, I dug into research for book 2, Finn's Texas Bride. Book 3, McClintock's Reluctant Bride, didn’t require as much research. In November, I’ll release the fourth book in this series, Daniel. This book has me immersed in research to be as factual as possible in Daniel’s treatment. I hope you’ll read and enjoy this entire series (and my other series, too). To get you started, The Texan's Irish Bride is free (links below).

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Caroline!

Through a crazy twist of fate, Caroline Clemmons was not born on a Texas ranch. To compensate for this illogical error, she writes about handsome cowboys, feisty ranch women, and scheming villains in a small office her family calls her pink cave. She and her Hero live in North Central Texas cowboy country where they ride herd on their rescued cats and dogs. The books she creates there have made her an Amazon bestselling author and won several awards.

You can find Caroline here:

CarolineClemmons.com              Books on Amazon

Twitter @CarolinClemmons          Facebook Fan Page

Subscribe to Caroline’s newsletter here to receive a FREE novella of Happy is the Bride, 

a humorous historical wedding disaster that ends happily—but you knew it would, didn’t you?

*          *          *          *          *           *          *          *          *          *          *

*Dallas McClintock’s Fandango Chili con Carne

[usually shortened to Chili]

From The Texan's Irish Bride  By Caroline Clemmons

5 lbs. Chili meat or ground beef, or combination of 4lbs. Beef or Venison and 1 lb. Pork sausage (I use only beef in a combination of 2 lbs. chili meat and 3 lbs. ground beef)
1 15 0z. Tomato sauce
1 can Stewed tomatoes
3 Tspn Chili powder [adjust to taste]
1 tspn. Ground comino [cumin]
1 tspn. Cayenne
1 tspn. Salt
1 tspn. Pepper
1 tspn. Paprika
I medium Onion, finely chopped
3-5 Garlic cloves, minced [or garlic salt].
¼ cup Brown sugar (Dallas’ secret ingredient)

Sear meat in a large skillet, pouring off the excess grease as the meat cooks. As meat nears browning, add onions and garlic to let them brown also. Mix the remainder of the ingredients except brown sugar with the meat in a large heavy kettle or dutch oven. Bring to a boil and then quickly reduce the heat to simmer. Stir frequently. Adjust seasonings to taste as chili cooks.

As the chili simmers slowly, more fat will reduce out and float to the surface. Skim off this fat each time before you stir the chili.  Discard the fat. About fifteen or twenty minutes before serving, add brown sugar and stir. This chili can be cooked in an hour, but the flavor is best if simmered very slowly for two or three hours, stirring every thirty minutes.

Serve with cornbread or tortillas and pinto beans. Texans don’t add beans to the chili con carne while it’s cooking.

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Jenn Brink, Author of Silver Bells

Demoralized from her latest titanic failure, Jessica is back under her parent’s roof in Silver Bells the stand-alone third novel in the Jessica Hart series.  Our heroine isn’t the kind of girl who doesn’t eat.  She uses food as her security blanket in this comedic New Adult mystery series.

 

With the bedroom that she never completely moved out of and family gossip driving her straight into the arms of the mashed potatoes, Jessica needs an out (either that or a larger pants size).  Why, oh why, does it have to be the holidays?!  Can’t a girl enjoy a massive breakup and life crisis during bikini season?

Worried about the amount of pumpkin pie going straight to her hips, Jessica takes off with side-kick Barbie on a mission (okay it’s not their mission but… details) to save Christmas.  There isn’t enough comfort food to keep Jessica’s emotions in check as she teams up with the yummy hunk of muscles who won’t quit haunting her daydreams.

 

The list of missing persons keeps growing as Jessica searches for clues and dinner, while struggling to suppress her desires.  When the bullets start flying, there’s no time to stop and eat (I mean understand her feelings).  Jessica is hoping for a miracle, but did someone order pizza?

 

Keep the hot chocolate flowing and don’t skimp on the booze, not if you fear the sobered up wrath of Barbie, as these cousins search from the North Pole to the Caribbean for Jolly Ole Saint Nick and a new life-plan.

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Jenn!

You can visit Jenn here:

JennBrink.com

Twitter @Jenn_Brink

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon

FOODFIC: Please Welcome Dina Santorelli, Author of Baby Grand

Mob storylines usually involve a smorgasbord of Italian food—pasta, sauce, bread, lots of bread, and all kinds of pastries. In my mind’s eye, when I think of books and movies about organized crime, I picture bulky, menacing-looking guys stirring big pots of sauce and probably the most memorable line from The Godfather: “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.”

In Baby Grand, the first book in my thriller trilogy, a bunch of mob guys are living temporarily in the home of a man named Don Bailino, who has just orchestrated the kidnapping of the baby daughter of New York Governor Phillip Grand. Bailino has also abducted a down-and-out writer named Jamie Carter whom he then forces to care for the child while he and the others work to delay the execution of mobster Gino Cataldi, who is on death row.

Rather than have the usual smells of tomato sauce, basil, and oregano permeate Bailino’s home or have the mobsters hang out in front of a pork store, a la The Sopranos, or make frequent visits to a local Italian bakery, I keep the food spare—and, overall, quite healthy. Cheerios (for the baby, perhaps). Apples. Grapes.

The reason? Don Bailino isn’t your everyday mobster.

In one scene, he bakes brownies—carefully using a knife to coat the top of a brownie with frosting, an image that makes him seem more like Martha Stewart than a mob guy. I did this to depict the complexity of Bailino, a guy who uses knives to kill but also to bake. A guy who can be as sweet as he is ruthless. A man who is meticulous about his work, be it in the kitchen or in a back alley.

Bailino eventually presents those brownies to Jamie Carter who is upstairs in his bedroom. What will Jamie do? And where is the baby?

I could tell you what happens next, but I’d have to kill you.

Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Dina!

You can find Dina here:

DinaSantorelli.com

Twitter @DinaSantorelli

Facebook Fan Page

Books on Amazon