LITMIR.BIZ

      “Cooking is at once child’s play and adult joy. And cooking done with care is an act of love.”

      – CRAIG CLAIBORNE

      CHAPTER ONE

      “Could we include our new friends?”

      In Southern California where we live and entertain in the winter, everyone is either high from the perpetual cloudless bright sky or mildly brain-damaged from sunstroke. Jolly table talk ranges from garnering sensational golf scores to gloating over the poor sots back home still shoveling snow. If anyone was ever “in therapy,” it’s ancient history.

      In Vermont where we live and host all summer, the hills are alive with the sound of kvetching. Global warming, endless wars, the faltering of the stock markets and second marriages.

      Oy vey. And I’m a gentile.

      Vermonters Brian and Bruce (they look alike, too, as in that infamous New Yorker cartoon where people and their pets become identical twins) asked if they could bring their new neighbors, Shel and Marianne. “Such a hoot, the both of them,” said Brian. “They wish their son Alan, timid by nature, was gay instead of marrying that little battlaxe.”

      Shel, a psychologist, turns out to be bald, chubby, charming, and effusive in his affection for his wife. Marianne is a chatterbox and pleased-as-punch to be office manager for a local theater troop and “hang with these great guys – of course they’re all gay, otherwise why would I bother?”

      The only problem is that our dear friend Christy, prematurely widowed long ago, is also a Chatty Cathy, ordinarily. Rich and I do our best to include the other guests when Marianne is taking a quick sip or a breath. We exchange glances of concern. Is normally loquacious Christy ill, goes our ESP after many years of our union? Is she put off by Marianne hogging the stage? Probably suffering over her daughter Lauren, her only family, whom she desperately doesn’t want to get divorced.

      “What’s happening with Lauren?,” says Abby, another close friend, who addresses Christy but we all overhear; we all want to know the same. “She asked him to move out, right? How are the kids handling it?”

      “I’d rather not get into it,” says Christy, uncharacteristically reticent.

      “Huh?” says Abby scrunching up her nose. “It’s all you ever talk about. And that’s good!”

      “Well, but now – ” Christy chokes on the words.

      We all pause, expectantly. The silence is going to be worth the wait.

      “Shel here,” continues Christy, head bowed, “is my therapist. He’s heard it a million times.”

      “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t know you were seeing a shrink. That’s terrific!”

      “About time,” adds another friend.

      “It’s not kosher for counselors and clients to socialize,” says Shel, taking the lead. “But, hey, the hosts didn’t know. And you’re all among friends.” He claps his chubby hands, a punctuation as in end-of-discussion.

      “Right on,” says Rich, relieved. “On to more important things: my dessert.”

       MENU ONE

       SEMI-MOROCCAN PARTY

       Appetizers

       Muhammara with Pita Chips

       Mini Clafoutis

       First Course

       Crab and Shrimp Strudel — with Basil Sauce

       Main Course

       Moroccan Swordfish — with spicy Quinoa or Couscous

       Asparagus Timbales

       Dessert

       Ginger Layer Cake

       PLANNING CHART