Free Cowabunga Christmas by Anna Celeste Burke Page B

closer to finding out who killed Owen.”
    “I
hear you, Kim. I agree.” He leaned in over the table and dropped his voice. “We’ve
already done plenty, Doll. Enough to blow this case wide open, see? The fuzz
can take it from here, see?” I think he was trying to do James Cagney or DeNiro
doing Cagney... I couldn’t tell for sure. His silliness was more disarming than
his promise to use all that burly brawn of his to protect me. Accent aside,
Brien had the right idea. I broke out in a smile. I was ready to give the
Christmas Eve menu my full attention. Mm, porcini and chestnut soup... that
sounded so good. I looked up from the menu.
    “I’m
with you, Dude, see? We’ll let the fuzz handle it from here, see?” My Cagney
was as bad as his. The decision made, I held out my glass and clinked Brien’s.
    “Here’s
to letting it alone!” Then I switched gears and poured on the sweetness. “Eat
hearty, Surfer Boy. You’re going to need your strength later.” Brien’s face lit
up with a grin more dazzling than a whole string of Christmas lights.
    “I’m
ordering two of everything.” He did. I watched in awe as he put away a feast
fit for a king or two. The servers were astonished as they brought him food and
more food. The Abbey did not disappoint, living up to its five star rating.
Every item they set in front of us was exquisite—fresh local ingredients,
perfectly prepared. Imaginative combinations of ingredients, too, a feature
that always appeals to me.
    I
didn’t order two of everything, but I did sample Brien’s choices. That baked
brie was amazing. So was my porcini and chestnut soup. I even tried one of the
raw oysters Brien ordered as a second appetizer. Harvested year round at nearby
Morro Bay, it was surprisingly delicious. It was a first for me, since I tend
to graze on the vegetarian side of the foodie fence. I had already cheated with
that Wagyu beef bacon we ordered for breakfast, so what the heck?
    Brien’s
paella, a house specialty, was fabulous too. The rice had that wonderful saffron
flavor, but was infused with a smokiness having been prepared over an open
grill. Paella Mixta, it combined meat and chorizo sausage that I skipped, with
fresh seafood that I tried. Awesome! The only thing I couldn’t bring myself to
taste was the venison tenderloin Brien ordered as his second entree. Having
grown up around Disneyland, with early memories of Bambi’s mother’s fate, I drifted
toward vegetarianism. My occasional faithlessness did not let me cross the line
to eat venison.
    I
ordered fresh, handmade ravioli in colors of the season. Each color was filled
with a different delight. Little pockets of bliss stuffed with pumpkin, wild
mushrooms, or cheese sat atop a spicy, sage brown butter sauce. A side of winter
vegetables accompanied the dish, roasted in a savory blend of herbs and garlic.
Monk’s bread, too, of course—a mainstay at the Abbey. Supposedly, based on a
secret recipe obtained from the monastery, it was soft, dense bread with a crunchy
crust. Brien was a convert.
    As our
desserts arrived, I wondered what on earth would be added to our resort profile
about this meal. Brien was the center of attention all evening as he turned our
slow food event into a marathon. He even received a visit from the chef who
must have come to see the eating machine for himself.
    My
Pumpkin Crema Catalana, Spanish custard similar to crème bruleè, was heavenly.
A seasonal variant on another recipe revealed to the resort kitchen from the
cliff-top monks. The servers, that made frequent visits, kept up a running
commentary on the food we ordered. They didn't always have such enthusiastic
gourmands on their hands, or so they intimated.
    I
watched Brien as he unselfconsciously downed a pecan tart—the Abbey’s version
of pecan pie, after raving about the gingerbread men he had already devoured. “Almost
as good as Bernadette’s Marrinitos,” was high praise indeed. Jessica’s wonder
woman sidekick,