All the President’s Menus by Julie Hyzy Read Free Book Online

here long.”
    “Two weeks.”
    He directed a baleful expression at me. “You’ve been through tougher situations than this one. You’ll adjust. Now, if there’s nothing else?”

CHAPTER 5

    I returned to the kitchen to find Bucky instructing the Saardiscan team on how to use one of our tilt-skillets. The four men stood around the waist-high, stainless steel device looking confused. I got the impression they’d never seen one before. That would be a shame, because the tilt-skillet was a workhorse. I didn’t know what we’d do without it.
    The men glanced up at my entrance, but only Bucky acknowledged me. In the middle of a demonstration, he flicked on the heat, then poured a generous glug of olive oil into the mechanism’s wide, flat base. “Let’s say we’re making a chowder.”
    At their blank looks, he clarified. “Soup.”
    All four men nodded.
    “We often need to prepare enough soup to feed more than a hundred guests.”
    The chefs grunted sounds of disbelief.
    “More than a hundred?” Kilian seemed to be the group’s spokesperson. “That is an exaggeration, no? Yesterday, your pastry chef, Marcel, showed us photos of many events held here, but the quantity he spoke of could not be accurate. Much of what your government shares with the world is propaganda, is it not?”
    Bucky’s mouth quirked up on one side as he spread the oil around the tilt-skillet’s bottom. “Whatever Marcel showed you was not propaganda.”
    He reached around and pulled up a large bowl of ingredients and tossed the contents into the hot oil, making the chopped onions, green and red peppers, and carrots dance in the sizzling oil.
    Tibor pretended to be paying attention to the chowder-making, but I could tell he was more interested in my presence. I couldn’t fathom why, but Nate and Hector noticed him watching me and nudged one another.
    Bucky could tell he was losing his audience. He raised his voice and spoke with more animation. “We’ve prepared dinner here for far more than a hundred guests. In some instances, we’ve entertained more than a thousand. I’m sure whatever Marcel showed you was from one of our many successful gatherings.”
    Kilian, who appeared to be the only member of his team actively paying attention to Bucky, shook his head with vehemence. “This kitchen is too small to prepare food to serve more than fifty, perhaps sixty diners.” His soft face creased into a knowing smile. “We were warned before we left Saardisca that you might try to sway us into believing of your country’s wealth and privilege by sharing outlandish stories.”
    I took a step forward. “We have no reason to lie to you about the dinners we prepare. And I have no personal motivation to try to convince you that we’re telling the truth. Our goal here—at least the way we understood it—was to forge a bond between our countries by sharing foods our citizens love.”
    Tibor gave a haughty chuckle. “Yes,” he said, “and that is why you brag about your phantom parties.”
    Bucky and I exchanged a look.
    “Phantom parties?” Bucky repeated. “I assure you, we work very hard to bring sparkling events to life.”
    “What about the queen of England’s visit here? Or that of Germany’s chancellor? Certainly those have been publicized in your country. Do you doubt your own broadcasters?” I said it with a smile, but I was beginning to suspect that this really
was
all news to them.
    “If such events took place, we would have heard about them. Of course we know that your president entertains guests from other countries, but the scope and the extravagance you’re suggesting . . .” Kilian shrugged. “Let me simply say that I find your descriptions too incredible to be true.”
    “I understand that we approach entertaining differently,” I said. It was becoming clear to me that these men came from a culture so far removed from ours that things we took for granted seemed fantastic and impossible. “But by the time