MAKE THE FILLING
Saute the onion and garlic until the onion is soft (if you can caramelize them a little this adds extra flavor to the filling).
Stir in the parsley and a little of the tomato sauce (about ? cup).
Combine this mix with your meat in a large bowl.
Add the egg and cooked rice.
Mix well with your hands, seasoning with salt and pepper if desired.
Take the mix in small palm-sized chunks and place one chunk in the middle of a cabbage leaf. Roll the end up so it curls around the meat and then tuck in each side, covering the meat, and then roll the cabbage leaf up completely. (You should not see any meat.)
Continue rolling until all of your meat mix is gone.
Dividing the big leaves in half, place the big leaves in the bottom of your pan.
In Romania they use a big stock pot or dutch oven on top of the stove for cooking. In America Meera uses a Crock-Pot, or she bakes them in the oven in a cast-iron, porcelain-enamel French pot.
Place the cabbage rolls on top of the big leaves.
Pour the sauce over the rolls and add water if needed to cover the rolls completely.
Place the other big leaves on top of the rolls, tucking them in.
Cook for about 3–4 hours on low heat.
POFTA BUNA!
Zama De Pasole Verde
(Meera’s Green String Bean Soup)
Guaranteed to cure the common cold, allergies, sore throat and ease the pain of minor concussions or the agony of unrequited love.
Place lard or substitute butter in a heavy pot and saute together with the flour until you have a roux, 3 to 5 minutes. Add red pepper, water and chicken and cook until chicken is firm. Cook green beans, garlic and onion in a half cup of water separately for a half hour then add to the chicken pot and cook the whole thing for 45 minutes or more. Add parsley and dill weed at the end.
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Grace Carroll’s next Accessory Mystery . . .
Died with a Bow
Coming soon from Berkley Prime Crime!
April in San Francisco is all about layers. Not the layers of fog that blanket the ocean beaches, not the layers of cake at bakeries like Miette or Tartine. I mean layers of clothing, from a sleeveless tunic worn over a polo neck to pairs of leggings with ballerina flats or plain pumps. Under no circumstances should you wear a tight shirt or sweater with your leggings. The overall look must be balanced: the top must be roomy and the leggings must be fitted. It’s simple really.
That’s what I’d been telling the customers at Dolce’s, the boutique where I’ve worked for the past year. Because in our city surrounded on three sides by water, chilly fog and a brisk wind can sweep over the town without notice in any month, and you have to be prepared for them. Sometimes it’s a burst of brilliant, warm sunshine followed by damp mist or, in winter, a heavy downpour. If you asked me, and many customers did, I would recommend wearing a narrow fitted top under a classic belted trench coat with dangling earrings and, in this case, knee-high socks over tights.
Today I was wearing all gray, which looks softer next to the skin than black or navy and is not as boring as it sounds. With a boyfriend blazer over a tank top under a thin Alexander Wang sweater I love, I carried a striped canvas tote. Wide-legged pants and strapped loafers made me feel ready to take on the world, or at least Dolce’s regular customers, the rich and well-connected to the city’s social scene.
One thing I was not ready for was to be greeted by a stranger at the door of the Victorian mansion Dolce had converted into an exclusive shop.
“Hello!” The young woman in satin shorts so full I thought they were bloomers, along with tights, a ribbed longsleeved T-shirt and patent leather wedge sling backs invited me inside as if I were a customer and she worked there. It turned out she did work there.
“I’m Vienna Fairchild. Welcome to Dolce’s,” she said with a dazzling smile. So dazzling her teeth must have recently been laser-whitened.
“Hi, Vienna. I’m Rita. I work here.”
“Rita,” she said, looking puzzled for a moment while she scratched her head. “Where have I heard that name before?” Which made me wonder, was she kidding or wasn’t I in the right place? Had I landed in an alternate universe? “Oh, I know. Dolce mentioned you.”
Right away I could tell things were different, and I’d only been gone for two days. I’d taken Saturday off to move into a smaller, more affordable apartment, and Sunday, the shop was closed. While I was gone the accessory section had been moved from the foyer and jewelry had taken its place. Racks of new clothes were pushed against the far wall of the great room, and our mannequins wore bright, bold spring outfits that I’d never seen before, and if I had, I would never have worn them or dressed anyone, even a fiberglass model, in them. I knew the theme was citrus colors, but someone had gone way too far. I mean, who wants to look like a grapefruit?
I looked around, feeling a chill of apprehension. Vienna was rubbing her slender, ringed fingers together, looking at me as I looked around. Was she thinking, why is Rita wearing so much gray today when clearly spring is in the air?
“How do you like it?” she said. “Don’t you just love, love what I’ve done?”
“You did this?” I asked.
She nodded, waiting for me to go off into ecstasy.
