Wisdom's Kiss (79 page)

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Deleted Prose: Teddy's Correspondence To Ben
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This letter spent about eighteen seconds in one of the later drafts of
Wisdom's Kiss,
until I saw the light and tossed it. Logically, of course, it makes sense that if Ben is writing a response to her granddaughter's correspondence, then we readers should, you know, get a look at that letter. Right? But I didn't want Ben/us reading any of Teddy's other letters, because they might inadvertently reveal that her suitor is a spy or at the very least a snake; that horrible truth needed to remain secret as long as possible. (Not to mention that Wilhelmina intercepted and destroyed all of Teddy's other letters, so we couldn't read them even if we wanted to.) Such being the case, the letter below would be the only use of Teddy's voice, while every other voice appears at least six times. This would be confusing to readers—heck, it's confusing just explaining it now. Hence the tossing.

That said, writing the letter was in no way a waste of time. It forced me to think long and hard about Temperance's character, and helped immeasurably in crafting Ben's reply: it's awfully hard to write a response if you don't know what the response is to. Plus it reinforces my general rule that all writing helps. Even if you end up deleting it, the process invariably contributes to your development as a writer. Learn to delete; it will always make your prose better. And for heaven's sake, never keep something just because you wrote it; that's like eating burnt toast. Compost the first batch and start again.

***

Temperance,

Queen of Montagne

Dear, dear Nonna Ben—I have such news! I have found—my hand quivers even to pen these words!—
true love!
'Tis so wondrous I can scarce believe it—to think mousy Queen Temperance now has a swain of her own!

Would that you were here to share my rapture! Never have I believed, however much you might comfort me, that my soul would ever bind with another's! I know you will adore him—he is so very handsome and courteous, I have never been so charmed! He arrived in Montagne the very day of your departure and is much saddened to have missed you—we now spend every moment together (though you need not fret, for we have chaperones); even a moment from his side brings me gloom. And—I can barely absorb such good fortune—he is an expert on dogwoods! We have so much to discuss, and he has so much knowledge and discernment to convey! He speaks even of
marriage
—is that not dazzling? Although he is so gentlemanly—he says it is not his place to ask a queen, but rather her place to ask him! Is that not marvelous? And he is so
helpful,
so willing to offer judgment when I know not what the future holds—he tells me what it is I should think and should do, and also when it is not my place—it is such solace to know I need not suffer over every decision. Yes, I realize it is a queen's responsibility to rule, but I am far happier following, and on this truth our two hearts beat as one.

I am so happy! I do hope that you are happy, too, and Dizzy—I wish her the best in her connubial bliss. I look forward to hearing of your travels and your safe arrival in Froglock, and trust that your voyage will pass without incident.

Your devoted granddaughter,

Teddy

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Bonus Recipe: Cuthbert En Croûte
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I wrote my dissertation on women's drinking and prohibition, a fascinating topic that I cunningly transformed into a very dull book. Part of my research involved reading dozens of nineteenth-century cookbooks to see what women were actually drinking, or at least what publishers and cookbook writers thought was appropriate for women to drink. ("Ladies' Luncheon Punch" made with four cups of gin, for example, is quite different from "Ladies' Luncheon Punch" made solely with lemon juice.)

Old-time cookbooks can be great fun so long as you're not hungry—a lesson I learned the hard way—and so long as you have enough cooking knowledge to understand what the heck they're talking about. For example, this is how Cuthbert en croûte might have appeared circa 1850:

Sauté several large handfuls of sliced mushrooms with an appropriate amount of onion. Season well, then bake in a good glazed crust in a hot oven until done.

No measurements, no temperatures, not even a list of seasonings, because everyone knows which herbs work with mushrooms. (You do know this, don't you?) This is doubtless how Ben's handwritten recipe would read, and in a perfect world it's how I'd include it here ... and then I'd be hunted down by dozens of aspiring but frustrated cooks. So the user-friendly version is below, less Montagne-y but far more functional.

As a side note, the French don't capitalize recipe names, which is why "croûte" appears lowercase in
Wisdom's Kiss.
Now you know.

CUTHBERT EN CROûTE
(translation: "Cuthbert in Crust," or Mushroom Pie)

This savory pie works as a delicious and meat-free entrée, a glamorous holiday side dish, or a memorable breakfast. While it can be made with only white flour and white mushrooms, both texture and flavor improve with whole wheat and a range of mushrooms—I prefer combining shiitake, cremini, and portabella, but use whatever's available. You can chop the mushrooms in a food processor, but the end effect won't be quite as elegant. The pie may be made ahead and reheated in a 250°F oven. The relish—gloriously pink—makes a delectable accompaniment.

FILLING

Preheat oven to 400°F. Sauté onion in butter until translucent. Add mushrooms and seasonings, and sauté until mushroom liquor has cooked out and the mixture is relatively dry.

CRUST

Pulse dry ingredients in a food processor. Add butter and pulse until mixture is grainy. Transfer to a mixing bowl and stir in sour cream (for best results, first with a spatula, then with your bare hands) until sour cream is fully incorporated. Knead several times.

Roll out ⅔ of dough on a floured surface until it's about 12 inches across, then lay in a 10-inch or deep 9-inch pie plate. Fill with mushrooms. Roll out remaining dough, cut into strips, and arrange in a lattice pattern atop mushrooms. Trim and crimp edges. Whisk together egg and milk, and brush onto lattice for that glorious golden crust. Bake 25—35 minutes until the crust looks done.

OPTIONAL BEET RELISH

Boil beets until fork-soft; slip off skins and slice into strips.

Combine sour cream and seasonings in small bowl; fold in beets. Watch the color bloom!

WARNING:
once opened, horseradish has the shelf life of raw salmon. Buy a new jar for this recipe.

Recipe for Pumpkin Pudding
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Recipe for Poches Celebres
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