Cardamom and Blood - 11/16/11

Written for the 2011 National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)
1,363 words written on 11/16/11, 3,093 words total to date

            Marian chose a green jacket made from a sweatshirt material and lightly frayed at the cuffs to go over her coral colored chiffon dress.  She’d picked up both items at a thrift shop in the Third Ward last week.  She loved the jolt of exhilaration she felt whenever she found something that had been cast off but she could repurpose. 

            It was a gorgeous fall day.  The kind that lets you know that summer truly is over, but that doesn’t quite smack of winter.  The crisp breezes slipped softly through the light fabric of her dress, contrasting with the warmth of the sun shining triumphantly after burning off the chill of the morning.  The brown leather boots and the shimmering gold scarf that she’d chosen gave the outfit the perfect autumn touch.  Marian was glad she’d chosen today to head to Cathedral Square to do a feature on the Milwaukee food trucks before they closed up business for the season.

            Marian had a friend, Jimmy, who owned a crêpe cart, and it had been his idea that she review the trucks.  Accordingly, they’d made plans to meet in the park in front of the Cathedral at 11:30, just before the prime lunch hour for all the downtown businesses.

Marian turned the corner of Kilbourn and Jackson just in time to see Jimmy fling a blanket into the air with a grand gesture, then softly lower it as it unfurled on the grass.  She laughed at his ‘do of the day, a bright blue Mohawk.  Jimmy’s girlfriend, Leila, was a hairdresser on Brady Street, and she was always giving Jimmy a new look.

            “Who’s watching the cart, James-san,” Marian called out as she approached.  He grinned at her familiar reference to his love of all things Japanese.  He had spent 18 months in the country, studying Asian cuisine, before coming home and deciding to open a boutique restaurant in downtown Milwaukee.  The restaurant was only open in the evenings, which allowed Jimmy time for his other pursuits during the day. 

His crêpes were an unusual fusion of French and Japanese flavors, and he even packaged them in boxes that were hand-crafted from origami paper.

            “Boomer’s got it under control,” Jimmy said, nodding to his golden retriever sitting alert next to the cart, about 25 feet away from where Jimmy had laid the blanket.

Boomer, short for Boomerang, perked his ears at the sound of his name.  In front of the crêpe cart a sign read, Want a crêpe?  Just place a bone in Boomer’s dish and he’ll take care of the rest!  The sign was accompanied by a small table with a bowl full of dog treats in the shape of bones.  On the ground in front of the table rested a silver dish, clearly labeled with Boomer’s name.

“Now this I’ve gotta see,” Marian laughed.

“Soon, my dear.  Soon,” Jimmy replied.  “But first you’ve gotta try the daily special.  I call it the Maid Marian.”

Marian raised her eyebrows skeptically as Jimmy pulled an origami box out of a picnic basket at his feet.  He handed her a pair of chopsticks and she plunked herself down to sample the crêpe, still steaming with the warmth of the grill. 

“Alright, sir, tell me what’s in this thing so I can determine if it’s worthy of such a name,” Marian said.

“You doubt me?  That’s cold, Mare,” Jimmy said.  “This delectable creation embodies the essence of the forest.  With an earthy base consisting of the hard-to-find morel mushroom, I have added spinach and water chestnuts to create a stimulating texture.  I complement this with a mild balsamic vinaigrette and a home-made rosemary goat cheese.  The entire work of art is wrapped in a whole wheat crepe.”

Marian mumbled her approval through a large bite of the concoction.  “Mmm, you’ve done it again, Jim, this thing is incredible!”  Jimmy smiled, having known she’d approve all along. 

Just then, a loud bell clanged, coming from the direction of the crepe cart.  It was closely followed by a quick and decisive howl.  Marian looked up from the crepe just in time to see Boomer pull again on a rope, tied to the bell, which was attached to the cart.  A man was standing in front of the cart, looking at the dog and laughing.

“That’s my cue,” Jimmy said, and took off jogging toward the cart.  Marian grinned at him and shook her head in wonder, at the same time asking herself why she was even surprised, having known Jimmy for several years.  She leaned forward for another bite of the crepe, glancing back toward the cart as Jimmy neared it.  As she watched him cordially greet his customer, she gasped.  Jimmy’s customer was Marq Germaine! 

She hadn’t looked closely at first but now she had no doubt.  She studied his graying temples as he stood, making small talk with Jimmy as he poured the crepe batter on the hot grill and began to swivel it into a large flat disk.  He had a look somewhere between Richard Gere and Pierce Brosnan.  He looked relaxed, but professional, wearing a navy button-down shirt with the top button undone, jeans, and a gray blazer.

Marq laughed as he gestured toward Boomerang, who was contentedly chewing the treat that had been placed in his bowl, a fair reward for a job well done.  Then Jimmy motioned toward her.  Marq took his crepe from Jimmy, turned, and started walking straight toward the blanket. 

Marian suddenly became acutely aware of every molecule of her being.  She was sitting in a decorous enough pose, legs bent beside her with ankles crossed.  But she could feel the wind tousling her auburn curls and she wondered if that was balsamic vinaigrette she felt tickling the tip of her nose.  She wiped a finger over it, just in case. 

Marian began to shiver with nervousness despite the fact that she wasn’t cold.  Was she really about to meet her idol?  What would she say to him?

“So, you’re the inspiration behind this tasteful bit of whimsy,” Marq said.  “Jimmy tells me you’re the competition I’ve been waiting for!”

“Well, as kind as that is, I don’t know that you have much to worry about from me, Mr. Germaine,” Marian replied, putting the crepe down and moving to stand up and greet him.

“Please, stay seated!  I’ll join you,” Marq said.  “I’ve been wanting to have a talk with MiSS Milwaukee for weeks now, and here she lands in the middle of my park.  And on food cart day no less!”

“Your park,” Marian repeated, letting Marq’s words sink in.  “Wait, you knew about my blog?”

“Of course I knew about it!  It’s my business to know what’s happening in Milwaukee’s food scene, and there’s a bit of a buzz going on about you.  And yes, I consider this my park.  My office is just over there, after all.”

Marian looked at the building that Marq had indicated.  Of course, the headquarters of the local paper was down here and he wrote for them!  She was surprised she’d never thought about running into Marq before, obsessed as she was.  She wondered what he meant when he said there was a buzz going on about her.

“Well, I have to admit I’m a bit stunned, Mr. Germaine.  I wouldn’t have pegged you as a food cart fan!”  Marian grinned, regaining her composure a bit as Marq cocked back his head and laughed.

“My name is Marian Sinclair,” she said, extending her hand. 

“I’m going to have to take a rain check on the hand shake, Marian,” Marq said, holding up his hand to show a streak of balsamic vinaigrette running toward his wrist.

“Food cart day is when I let my hair down, so to speak,” he said.  “It’s my chance to really have fun with food instead of just analyze it.  But what about you?  I hear you’re writing a review of the food trucks?”

“I am,” said Marian, “Although, I may have to reconsider my angle now that I have an unexpected guest – and reader.”

Marq smiled.  “Perhaps you could interview me?  And please, call me Marq.”