Book One, Page Twenty-One. Secrets And Catfish.
Sam Gratinich was on the range at Gobo's, as always, frying fish and catfish to his usual perfection. Jerry went back into the kitchen to say hello. One of Jerry's early veterinary partners had worked on some of Sam's racehorses in the past, and once you were Sam's friend, it was permanently.
"Hey, where you been?" Sam asked. "Ain't seen you in a long time. How's all those dogs and cats?"
"Sick and dying, mostly," Jerry said.
"Remind me not to bring my dog to you!"
"Yeah, well. Did I tell you I'm opening a restaurant?"
"Now I know you've lost your mind," Sam said. "You ever done any of this before? Maybe you ought to come work here for a day and see if you still want to do it. Let me tell you--it's not for everybody!"
"Sam, I'd actually like to do that. Maybe you can teach me a few things. I'd like to have your gumbo on my menu."
"That will never happen. My sister and I are the only ones who know how. Can't help you with that one." Sam laughed. "So where are you doing this?
"Corner of Carrollton and Claiborne. I'm going to call it The Best Of Restaurant. I want to have all the great dishes from all the great restaurants."
"Well, best of luck. If you want to eat some catfish, they're looking really good today. Nobody gets catfish like this." Sam showed Jerry some small fillets. "These little wild fish, can't beat 'em."
"What do you cook those in?" asked Jerry.
"That I'll tell you," Sam said. "Cornmeal, and I fry it in vegetable oil. That's it. But first you got to find catfish this good!"
Jerry and Julie sat down and ate the gumbo, trying to figure out what was in it. They soon gave up. The light broth, containing not just chicken but shrimp, both okra and file, was so distinctive that it probably was a true secret. So they moved to the catfish.
They left with a pleasant taste in their mouths and with a wave to Sam. But Jerry's enthusiasm was damp. Here was the second restaurateur to refuse him a recipe for a dish Jerry thought his new restaurant ought to have. And both of these were friends. How would it go with the chefs he didn't know?
They finished the errand by stopping at Jerry's office to retrieve Winifred Lancaster's telephone number from the caller ID. Jerry called her then and there.
"Hello, Miss Lancaster? This is Dr. Wells. My wife said you called earlier. Sorry it took so long. We had a lot of animals in here today."
Her voice sounded smoky and a little husky to Jerry. "Oh, good, thanks. My Uncle Bobby's been calling me every day because he wants to go out to lunch with you. He feels bad about not inviting you to lunch after the funeral. You must really have told him something that caught his attention."
"Must be the old drugstore," Jerry said. "I used to go in there all the time when I was a kid. He didn't remember me at first, but then he did. I recognized him right away. He looks pretty good for his age!"
"He has trouble getting around, but he's sharp. Anyway, he wants to know if you can have lunch with him at Christian's this Thursday."
"Thursday would be fine," said Jerry. He'd juggle all the other items on his schedule for this.
"Great!" Winifred replied "And is it okay if I come, too? I'm his driver. He needs one, and I'm unemployed at the moment."
Jerry wondered if he should let on that this was exactly what he was hoping would happen. He decided it couldn't hurt. "That would be perfect," he said. "Because, to tell you the truth, I have been trying to figure out a way to talk to him, and you too. I couldn't bring myself to do it at the funeral."
"Oh? What about?"
"It's going to sound strange, but I want to do something with the old drugstore."
"No kidding!" said Winifred. "Seems like all of a sudden everybody wants it. There's even a guy who wants to open a restaurant there. I'd like to meet him, because I'm a chef and I need a job."
Jerry felt his throat tighten. "Then it's even better," he said. "I'm the restaurant guy."
