Son of Holmes | страница 15

“Damn,” he said, “I wish I’d thought of getting Lupa with beer. Occasionally you show real genius, Jules.”

“Perception and devotion, hardly genius. When Fritz told me of the food at La Couronne, it started me thinking. A man who could cook as well as he did, who smuggled in spices for the integrity of his dishes, and yet who spent every morning drinking swill on the sidewalk . . . no, it didn’t make sense. That man’s taste buds were too refined for that beer, but he loves beer. Simple, actually.”

“Like Columbus’s egg,” he said.

At first, even at Lupa’s insistence, Fritz would not come to the table with us, but finally he overcame his prejudice against the chef dining with his patron when Lupa got him engrossed in a recipe for pheasant.

“The problem,” he said, “is that too often that delicate bird is overwhelmed by tarragon and sage, when it should be coaxed into accepting their favors, as a woman might accept other favors, with a little wine. Set the spices in the wine first, several hours before, and leave it chilled. Then—”

“Gentlemen,” I said, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but couldn’t we continue this discussion at the table?”

So the four of us sat to savor Fritz’s delicious sole and honey, followed by a subtle tournedos Béarnaise. The two chefs were very close to the same age, and they seemed to get along exceptionally well, which made the lunch even smoother than it would have been with the fine food. There was no hint of recognition between them when I introduced Marcel and Lupa, though once during the meal they glanced at one another after a remark Fritz had made about the state of cuisine in the Balkans.

“And now,” I said, as we were finishing our coffee, “shall we go to the cellar? Fritz, will you prepare the arbor?”

“He is a sensitive chef,” Lupa said when Fritz had gone. “Has he been with you long?”

“Actually, no. Less than a year.”

“Do you know where he was trained?”

A look of annoyance crossed Marcel’s countenance. Lupa must have seen it too, for he held up his hand and continued quickly. “I only ask about his training because it is so evidently superlative. The man is nearly a maître, and at his age that is very rare, indicative of great native skill and rigorous apprenticeship. As a chef myself, I would be interested to know where he studied.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not at all certain. He arrived here on the recommendation of a mutual friend, and his cooking has never given me cause to question his background. My friend was living in Strasbourg before the hostilities began, so I gather he trained in one of the establishments there.”