Free Recipes for Disaster by Josie Brown Page A

ways in which the children may find out. Last night, all the time I’m sitting there with Trisha, working on her memento project, I’m thinking to myself, ‘When will she notice that I’m not in any of her pictures?’ If not Trisha, then maybe Jeff will wonder about it. And let’s not forget that Mary was eight when Carl disappeared. Her memories of him may be fuzzy, but someday something may trigger one that doesn’t reconcile with her life as she knows it.”
    “We’ve had that test already, Jack! Mary met Carl, and talked to him. She described him as ‘creepy.’”
    “Maybe ‘creepy’ was her way of describing a deep-seated memory of him.” He shrugs. “You and I both know that all it takes is a DNA test to shatter the myth we’re living. Percy is proof of that. Donna, I’m just suggesting that we consider why, how and when we’d break the news to the children.” 
    “Jack, your presence in their lives, every day, is why you’re their father, not some chromosome test. So are the many little acts of love you do on their behalves.” I tighten my hand in his. “We better get inside. Jeff just texted me that he wants me to make six dozen of my killer peanut butter chocolate chip cookies to hand out tomorrow before the election.”
    He nods. “Trisha and I are finishing her project tonight.”
    I don’t want to hurt him anymore, but I have to ask. “Are you anywhere on her board?”
    That puts a smile on his face. “She saved the wrapper from the very first ice cream cone I bought her. I couldn’t believe it. When I asked her why, she said, ‘Because I’d never seen Mommy so happy than that day.’”
    I laugh. “What a perceptive young lady. If you want to keep that smile on my face, why don’t you kiss me now?”
    He does. 
    She’s right, nothing makes me happier.

Chapter 6
    Rubber Chicken Circuit

    The endless series of public dinners and luncheons politicians must attend to raise funds and make speeches is called “the rubber chicken circuit,” due to the fact that the main course is usually the domesticated fowl in question, and that more than likely the hotel which serves it, cooked it hours earlier, and then reheated it, giving it a rubbery texture.
    “Eating crow” is another political culinary term of note, and sometimes used in tandem with this one—especially in instances when a microphone is left on while the candidate is enjoying a candid moment with a trusted confidante. Saying something like, “Do you think they believed that bunch of hooey?” or exclaiming, “How ‘bout them ta-tas on that gal in the front row … ” will certainly have any politician wishing he’d kept his yap shut, as opposed to putting his foot in it.

    Juiciest Roast Chicken Ever
    (From Ally Rusu, Sausalito, California)

    Ingredients
    Large whole Chicken
    ½ Cup of Olive Oil
    1 Cup Vodka
    Salt
    Pepper
    Garlic Powder
    1/3 Onion 

    Directions
    1: Preheat Oven to 350 degrees.
    2: Clean the chicken of all inside bags, and wash well.
    3: Slice the onion, in ringlets. Set aside.
    4:  Put the chicken in a roasting pan and season generously, inside and out, with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. 
    5: Brush olive oil on the inside of the bird’s cavity, then outside as well.
    6: Add the vodka and onions to the cavity.
    7: Bake, uncovered, for 1 hour and 15 minutes, in the preheated oven.
    8: Remove from heat, and baste with drippings.
    9: Cover with aluminum foil, and allow to rest about 30 minutes before serving.

    “Wish me luck,” Jeff says, as he hops out of my car. He’s recruited Morton to help him carry and distribute his campaign paraphernalia: posters that say, “Equal Rights for All! Vote Jeff for Class President” as well as buttons, and of course my cookies.
    At least, those that Morton hasn’t already eaten.
    “Break a leg!” Trisha yells after him. 
    “Next stop, Babs’ house,” I declare.
    Mary and Wendy, who have been whispering furiously in the van’s back seat, freeze.