“I’ll drink to that toast.” Doc sipped at the wine. “Not quite Moet amp; Chandon, but perfectly adequate. Can we afford this luxury?”
J.B. patted his jacket. “Got a jack bonus last night from Dolores Stanwyck. Some miners in late figured that they were entitled to some freebies with the girls. Had to convince them otherwise. Managed it without breaking any bones.”
In the end they had two more bottles of wine with the meal. An unusual treat for all of them. One was a grenache from the islands of California, with a delicious pink color. The other a tart chardonnay from Oregon.
Even Doc, who fancied himself as something of a connoisseur of wine, sat there licking his lips and admitted that they were both excellent.
The quality of the food was a lot better than adequate, though with some of the dishes it seemed as though Toby had been a little bit ambitious.
Ryan chose a fish main course, rainbow trout, grilled off the bone and served in a pastry shell stuffed with a creamy sauce and crayfish. Krysty picked the quail, roasted and brought to the table with a rich sauce of cream and brandy. Mildred fancied the lasagna, which came in a large earthenware pot, though she found the meat was a little fatty for her taste. J.B. spent ages pondering the menu before finally picking the same main dish as Ryan. Jak went for some underdone veal, served with a fried egg on top and an extra side order of fries. Doc also spent an eternity trawling through the long list of dishes, reading out some of them aloud, head on one side, pondering his selection.
“Squab? I confess that I have never taken to the name. Too abrupt to be tasty. Turkey and cranberry sauce. I think that I am not in the Thanksgiving vein today. Salmon served with pasta and a bean sauce. A trifle heavy, perhaps. Specially as I may select the heavy trifle for dessert. Red mullet from the Gulf, with a prawn and octopus ink sauce. Too black by half.”
“Doc,” Ryan said, “I’m getting dust on my shoulders, and my stomach’s in overdrive. A spider’s weaved its web between my knife and fork. Speed it up, will you?”
“My dear fellow of course.”
He turned to the patiently waiting Toby. “I shall essay the lobster with”
“Real sorry. Lobster’s off today. Never got the fresh delivery.”
Groans erupted all around the table.
Doc smiled, showing his perfect set of white teeth. “Worry not, cupbearer. Then I shall choose the roast beef, well-done and sliced wafer thin, cosseted by the chef for my dining pleasure, having been fed on lush meadow grass.”
The main courses all came with a selection of vegetables. Boiled potatoes, a little undercooked and served without any salt or butter. Carrots and broccoli with sliced beans, and a large side salad that was heavy on wilted lettuce.
But it was still a great meal by Deathlands standards, and they all cleaned their plates. Mildred, Krysty and J.B. passed on the creaking dessert trolley that Toby wheeled proudly up to show them.
Jak, Ryan and Doc didn’t.
“Those chocolate balls with cream,” Jak said, watching the serving of the profiteroles with great attention. “More than that. Better.”
Ryan pointed at some round dishes with a kind of crust on top. “What’s that?”
“Lemon brulie. A sorbet of lemons covered in brown sugar that’s baked quickly under a very hot grill.”
“I’ll have that.”
Doc nodded. “I believe that I shall join you in that selection. I remember sampling a similar delicious in Del Greco’s on Fifth Avenue at an anniversary meal with my dear Emily. I trust this lives up to my memory.”
Ryan wasn’t a great gourmet, partly because there were precious few opportunities in Deathlands to sample quality food. But he actually sighed out loud at the first mouthful. His spoon broke through the baked crust of molten sugar, into the ice-cold lemon sorbet beneath. It was a truly exquisite combination of hot and cold, of sweet and bitter.
“Fireblast! But that’s good.”
Doc leaned back, eyes closed, savoring the taste sensation. “By the Three Kennedys! It is perfection. Every bit as delicious as my memory of the dish.”