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May 6
Hi mum,
We went to the carnival yesterday with Jenna and Jerry. The first day they open is always on a Thursday so that they can work out any kinks and get ready for the larger crowd that comes in on the first Friday night.
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Nora, Jenna, and Jerry all agreed that the first Friday would be the best day for us to go because the food is best then, the new items are still a novelty, and the crowds and general enthusiasm are more fun on the busy day.
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As I expected, Nora got pulled away by her friends almost as soon as we got there. I didn’t ask her to stay with us. It’s her last time here with her friends for who knows how long, and even when she does come back to visit, everything will be different – her friends, the carnival, even her. I couldn’t ask her to give up a fun night with her friends just because I’ve never known how to have any.
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After Nora ran off, Jerry suggested we find the good grub, and Jenna turned to me to explain that they have a lineup of different food trucks at the carnival, and they’re almost all new ones each year.
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“I know,” I admitted. “I actually come here every year, just to see all the different menus and try some of the really outrageous food truck items.”
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Jenna took a step back and blinked at me, surprised. “I’ve never seen you here!” was all she said. Then she linked her arm through mine, linked her other arm through Jerry’s (he chuckled and patted her hand), and marched us towards the food.
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It was a veritable feast of carnival gastronomy. Jenna and I ooh’d and aah’d over the delicacies, gobbling up roasted marshmallow-stuffed beignets, chili fries topped with fried sweet corn, ice wine snow cones, spicy spiked mango skewers… and a few others I’m a little ashamed to admit we ingested.
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In our state of sugar-fueled indigestion, we dared Jerry to try some of the more unusual menu offerings Jenna and I couldn’t even imagine eating, and watched in horror as he ate (and enjoyed!) a deep-fried batter-dipped dill pickle on a stick. He smacked his lips and drummed his fingers on his belly and declared he needed some beer to wash that down with, and so we followed him to the beer garden that the carnival had added this year.
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When Jerry got stuck in conversation with friends there, Jenna and I resumed our wandering, picking up some assorted nibbles like smoke-glazed cashews, and buttery popcorn dusted with candy floss powder, discussing and dissecting and comparing the foods we’d tasted with things I had been trying out in my recipe tests.
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I was feeling relaxed and happy, albeit a little bloated, when suddenly someone called out Jenna’s name. “Peggy!” Jenna responded, linking her arm with mine again and pulling me over to a group of women by the wine cart.
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She quickly kissed the cheeks of the woman she called to, waved at the other women with a friendly smile, and then said, “This is Beatrix Milton!” She introduced me to the other women who were there, but I was suddenly so nervous that I couldn’t focus and now can’t recall anyone’s face or name, other than Peggy’s, whose last name is Dunder.
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Some of the women work with the same real estate firm that Jenna does, and some of the others, it turns out, live in our neighborhood.
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One elderly woman, who must have been at least 70, said: “Oh! Are you Nora Milton’s mother? Nora is the sweetest girl; she brought me the most lovely lavender shortbread cookies!”
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“Beatrix made those!” Jenna exclaimed.
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Suddenly the other women from Jenna’s office were chiming in, excitedly asking if these were the same shortbread that Jenna had brought in to the office. They gushed in a chatter of praise, telling me how much they enjoyed those cookies and how they’d never before tasted lavender salt.
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Jenna beamed. “Actually, Beatrix is working on a cookbook right now, and it’s all about sweet dishes that feature salt! And… I’m helping!” she added in an exaggerated whisper, winking at me.
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“Wow! That must be a lot of work, figuring out how sweet foods can highlight salt. How do you come up with the ideas and the recipes?” One woman asked, leaning forward in curiosity.
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“I, uh, I’m using a lot of my mother’s recipes. She used to come up with all sorts of things… on our food truck,” I stuttered. I was suddenly feeling very embarrassed by all the attention, and could feel my cheeks flooding with heat.
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The older woman peered at me. “What was the name of your food truck?”
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“Salt!” Jenna said with a laugh. “Isn’t that perfect?”
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“I remember that food truck,” the older woman said quietly, still staring at me. I looked away, feeling uncomfortable, and Jenna noticed, quickly changing the subject.
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“Well, it was so great to see you all! Beatrix and I promised Nora we’d meet her at the tilt-a-whirl at 9’o-clock, so we’d better get going,” Jenna explained, excusing us.
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I shyly (stupidly) waved goodbye at the group of women and linked my arm through Jenna’s, squeezing her hand in thanks for getting us out. She patted my hand with a smile and said, “Think we can manage one more treat tonight? I spot the funnel cake stand.” She wiggled her eyebrows mischievously.
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Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well last night with all that food inside me, so I’m taking today off from any recipe work… though I do have an inspired idea to add chopped bacon to the maple-glazed almonds. I think that’s just the smokey-salty flavor that recipe needs, wouldn’t you agree?
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I’ll try it out tomorrow and will let you know how it turns out.
Love,
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Beatrix
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P.S. I completely forgot about Bobbiny! Do you remember him?
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