The Exchange: After The Firm

The chefs were the Rosario brothers, Marco and Marcello, also twins. They were from a small village in Lombardia in northern Italy, and two years earlier had opened a trattoria near Lincoln Center. It was a hit from day one and was soon awarded two stars by the Times. Reservations were hard to get; the current waiting time was four months for a table. Mitch and Abby had discovered the place and ate there often, anytime they wanted. Abby had the clout to get a table because she was editing the Rosarios’ first cookbook. She also encouraged them to use her modern kitchen to experiment with new recipes, and at least once a week they descended upon the McDeere apartment with bags of ingredients and a near riotous approach to cooking. Abby was right in the middle of it, rattling away in perfect Italian as Carter and Clark watched from the safety of their stools near a counter. Marco and Marcello loved performing for the kids and explained their preparations in thickly accented English. They also chided the boys into repeating Italian words and phrases.

Mitch chuckled at the scene as he tossed his briefcase, took off his jacket, and poured a glass of Chianti. He asked the boys about their homework and received the standard assurances that it was all finished. Marco presented a small platter of bruschetta, placed it on the counter in front of the boys, and informed Mitch that he should not worry about homework and such because the boys were doing important work as taste-testers. Mitch pretended to be sufficiently chastised. He would check the homework later.

The name of their restaurant was, not surprisingly, Rosario’s, and it was embroidered in bold letters across red aprons worn by the chefs. Marcello offered one to Mitch, who, as always, declined on the grounds that he could not cook. When they were alone in the kitchen, Abby allowed him to peel and chop vegetables, measure spices under her watchful eye, set the table, and handle the garbage, all grunt work she deemed acceptable for his talents. He had once elevated himself to the position of sous chef but was rather harshly demoted when he burned a baguette.

She asked for a small glass of wine. Marco and Marcello declined, as usual. Mitch had learned years earlier that Italians, in spite of their prodigious production of wine and the presence of it at virtually every meal, actually drank little. A carafe of their favorite local red or white would satisfy a large family over a long dinner.

Due to her knowledge of Italian food and wine, Abby was a senior editor at Epicurean, a small but busy press in the city. The company specialized in cookbooks and published about fifty of them a year, almost all of them thick, handsome editions loaded with recipes from around the world. Because she knew many chefs and restaurant owners, she and Mitch dined out often and seldom bothered with reservations. Their apartment was a favorite laboratory for young chefs dreaming of success in a city crowded with fine restaurants and serious gourmands. Most of the meals prepared there were extraordinary, but since the chefs were free to experiment, there was the occasional dud. Carter and Clark were easy guinea pigs and were being raised in a world of cutting-edge recipes. If the chefs couldn’t please them, their dishes were probably in trouble. The boys were encouraged to pan any dish they didn’t like. Their parents often joked quietly about raising a couple of food snobs.

Tonight there would be no complaints. The bruschetta was followed by a small truffle pizza. Abby announced that the appetizers were over and directed her family to the dining table. Marco served the first course, a spiced fish soup called cacciucco, as Marcello found a seat. All six took a small bite, savored the flavors, and thought about their reactions. It was slow eating and this often bothered the kids. The pasta course was cappelletti, small ravioli in beef broth. Carter in particular loved pasta and declared it delicious. Abby wasn’t so sure. Marco served a second pasta course of risotto with saffron. Since they were conducting research in a lab, a third pasta course of spaghetti in clam sauce was next. The servings were small, only a few bites, and they joked about pacing themselves. The Rosarios bickered back and forth about the ingredients, the variations of the recipes, and so on. Mitch and Abby offered their own opinions, often with the adults all talking at the same time. After the fish course the boys were getting bored. They were soon excused from the table and went upstairs to watch television. They missed the meat course, braised rabbit, and the dessert of panforte, a dense chocolate cake with almonds.

Over coffee, the McDeeres and Rosarios debated which recipes should be included in the cookbook and which needed more work. It was months away from completion, so there were many dinners to follow.