It's Too Yummy Tuesday!
On select Tuesdays I'll share delicious recipes inspired by my books, or those of some special guest authors! Today I welcome Em Petrova!
Lillian’s Favorite Fish Soup
By Em Petrova
When I got news I could be a part of a recipe blog, I jumped on it. What a fun opportunity to share my character through her passion for food. In this case – seafood. Lillian LeClair is an immortal who was Made during WW II. She loves all seafood, and will try anything. John, her husband of over six decades, is grossed about by her food choices, which amuses her. She’ll eat anything from squid in ink to fish and chips. Here is a recipe for Fish Soup which I’d serve if she were coming for dinner.
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 cups chopped onion
• 4 fresh mushrooms, sliced
• 1 stalk celery, chopped
• 4 cups chicken stock
• 4 cups diced potatoes
• 2 pounds cod, diced into 1/2 inch cubes
• 1/8 teaspoon Old Bay Seasoning TM, or to taste
• salt to taste
• ground black pepper to taste
• 1 cup clam juice
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 2 (12 fluid ounce) cans evaporated milk
1. In a large stockpot, melt 2 tablespoons butter over medium heat. Saute onions, mushrooms and celery in butter until tender.
2. Add chicken stock and potatoes; simmer for 10 minutes.
3. Add fish, and simmer another 10 minutes.
4. Season to taste with Old Bay seasoning, salt and pepper. Mix together clam juice and flour until smooth; stir into soup. Remove from heat, and stir in evaporated milk. Serve.
Amount Per Serving Calories: 229 | Total Fat: 4.1g | Cholesterol: 50mg
TREFOIL-by Em Petrova
When the husband Lillian LeClair has been bound to since World War II takes her on vacation which turns out to be a tour of cemeteries, she is bombarded by glimpses into a mysterious man’s soul as well as memories of her life as a mortal. Once she realizes this mystery man is tracking her, she is frantic to escape. But the phenomenon known as the Calling has her in its grip and Lillian is aboard the runaway train which will inevitably link them.
Famous and centuries-old sculptor Nathan Halbrook is on the receiving end of Lillian’s Call, and is tormented to discover the woman he’s waited years for is the wife of another man. As Nathan and Lillian come face to face, they find themselves embroiled in the puzzling events surrounding her delivery into immortal life. With the holes of her memory plugged, a sacrifice is made to keep her Walking and in the arms of her immortal mate.
Excerpt: The woman who paused on the cemetery path contained a soft, flickering glow like a candle in a very still room, wavering when first lit, and then swelling into yellow radiance. The weak winter sunlight contributed nothing to this, and Nathan knew if he drew her into the shadows, she would still possess a clear, golden look that only immortals have. He should know.
His eyes flashed open. He bolted upright in bed, his hands twisting into the sheets. His words were a harsh rasp tumbling from his open mouth. “The Calling.”
He blinked at his surroundings. Tall armoire, hand-carved by his father centuries ago. Wash basin with porcelain pitcher, the scent of his mother‟s handmade soap still clinging to it. No glowing immortal woman.
Yet, he saw her.
His view of her was impaired, like looking through a fog or a keyhole. His tunnel of vision shifted upward to encompass a white lily tucked behind her ear, and a mahogany tendril of hair that had lifted on the stiff wind.
Nathan ground his teeth with frustration, desperate to see more. The keyhole shifted and he was offered a view of her lower lip as she pulled it, glistening, between her teeth.
He leapt to his feet, his forehead and neck soaked with sweat. Though his eyes were fixed on the soft light of dawn shimmering through his bedroom window, the images of her continued to come. The air palpitated with them. His heart palpitated with them. His immortal blood palpitated with them.
When the view shifted again, he was unprepared for the sight of her naked back, a rope of hair draped across one shoulder, and the zigzagging, floral tattoo on her spine. His fingers knotted into fists and his breath exploded from his lungs. His mouth watered to press his lips to that tattoo, knowing when he did, she would make the vital sound which would bind them—a gasp.
The sound itself was a sandpapery rasp, rending a hole in his chest that only she could fill.
He whirled to the window. The Vermont morning light was pale, watery and yellow, not the glowing green light that had spread its fingers through his room and fallen upon the body of the woman in his vision. But she was out there. She had Called to him, that woman with the flowering vine of a tattoo.
Nathan trapped his skull between white-knuckled fists. Where? Where would he begin tracking her? He jammed his feet into his abandoned shoes and launched himself through the open window and into the brisk morning. . . running.