Free Bon Bon Voyage by Nancy Fairbanks Page A

wasn’t interested in culinary history and myth. He kissed my hand, then scooped it into his and whisked me off to his office to discuss the spicy coating on the steaks the night before. Evidently, his minions were forced to beat the chili powder and other ingredients into the steak with special mallets, a process he demonstrated by pounding his desk in between rushes to the door to shout at people in the kitchen. His office was glass, and he didn’t miss a thing that happened beyond his windows. Cooking under his direction had to be very stressful for his workers.
    Having discussed his steak recipe, he rushed me back out and “let” me wield the wooden spoon with which the brandy was stirred into the orange frosting. Unfortunately, the brandy fumes made me rather dizzy and nauseated. It’s a problem I have when making fondue at home. When Demetrios noticed that I had become pale and begun to perspire, he snatched the spoon from my hand, passed it to a waiting pastry chef, and lifted me bodily with both hands around my waist. From the pot to the kitchen door, he hoisted me several inches off the floor and carried me. “Come to visit once more when you are not to vomit. Vomiting in my kitchen is not good.” I was extremely embarrassed as he pushed me—not violently, mind you—out the door.
    So much for impressing the chef with my expertise in the kitchen. I took deep breaths all the way to the elevator and was feeling much better by the time I reached our suite, where I found a Luz I hardly recognized. “You look absolutely gorgeous!” I exclaimed.
    â€œThanks,” she muttered. “Now, will you tell your mother-in-law that I do not want to round up female cops to march in some demonstration in Chicago?”
    â€œVera,” I said cheerily, “Luz doesn’t want to.” I was pleased to note that not only did my friend look very chic, but also she hadn’t used foul language. It had to be the clothes. I now wished that I’d given Luis, the inept handler of baggage in Lisbon, a more generous tip.
    Out in the hall we could hear Herkule calling, “Is now serving yum-yum lunch in dining room. Chef not likes laggard tardies. He comes from kitchen and barks loudly.”

12
    Touring the “Onboard Amenities”

Luz
    Lunch was pretty good, great if you took Carolyn’s word for it. She actually ate two desserts. She was starting on the second and talking about paying a visit to the pastry chef when the fire alarms went off and gave everyone but Carolyn indigestion. She wrapped the piece of cake in her napkin and took it with her when the crew people hustled us off for the fire drill. The worst of it was wearing these Styrofoam life jackets, sitting around listening to a safety lecture, and then answering a roll call while standing under a huge rubber lifeboat. Some computer guy from Silicon Valley said it was like standing under the sword of Damocles, whatever that meant.
    The damn Styrofoam was hot as hell and made me sweat on my new clothes. I figured they did it on purpose so we’d have to send our stuff to the ship’s dry cleaners, a service that was not free. Carolyn’s mother-in-law couldn’t even see over the collar of her life jacket and raised a big ruckus about having to walk down stairs as good as blind because we weren’t allowed to use the elevators for the fire drill. A steward showed up to help her. Poor guy got an earful about life jackets that might be all right for men, but were dangerous for women, especially older women with fragile bones and hearts that might seize up at any minute. During the lecture, Carolyn scarfed down the whole piece of cake.
    After that we had to take the rotten life jackets up to our rooms and stow them before we met for a ladies’ tour of the ship so we’d know all the great things it had to offer, especially the ones that would cost us money, “onboard amenities” they