Synopsis
In a debut mystery, a restaurant critic for The Washington Post assigns her alter ego, Chas Wheatley, to cover a gourmet festival in downtown Washington, D.C., where the untimely demise of a chef stirs up trouble. Reprint.
From the Author
Restaurant reviewing is a clandestine businessAs the Washington Post's restaurant critic for the past 20 years, I've grown accustomed to using an assumed name, investigating everything I eat, stealing menus and keeping my opinions under wraps. Thus it was a short step to writing mysteries. In inventing Chas Wheatley, Washington Examiner restaurant critic who unexpectedly becomes a sleuth, I also created a platform for the juicy stories of the restaurant world (here populated by real and imagined chefs), the lore of cooking and the lure of journalism. It gave me the opportunity to enjoy the dishes of my dreams with no overcooking, excessive salting or clashing flavors. And I could at last shine a spotlight on the people behind those meals I've been critiquing all these years.
Chas Wheatley, unlike me, has been a chef--and the former lover of a superstar chef who suddenly dies in the prime of his career. The police consider his demise a "natural", but Chas suspects murder, so she plies a food-fanatic detective with fritto misto to enlist his cooperation. Her world is filled with chefs, headwaiters, reporters and a grown daughter who'd rather have "just a salad." Even the (real) White House pastry chef plays a role in solving the murder.
But this is more than a murder mystery. It's a murder mystery that explains why you shouldn't order clam fritters for lunch on Monday, how to handle a supercilious waiter and what you'll need to prepare your own risotto, fat-free potato salad or chocolate-hazelnut calzone.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
