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Quote by Anurag Shourie

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Half A Shadow

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Anurag Shourie

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“I've got it! Shecret Shauce! We can bottle it and sell it at farmers' markets or on the Internet!" We both laugh at her, but then Anne's face grows thoughtful. "It was pretty good stuff," she says. "Hey, Eleanor, what would happen if we blended it, so no one knew it was fruit cocktail? Then we wouldn't even have to give away the shecret." I get up and walk to Benny's cupboard, pull out ingredients: vegetable oil, soy sauce, garlic powder, salt, pepper, and one can of fruit cocktail. The only thing I can blend it in is Benny's old Osterizer, which actually works better than any appliance I've got. The finished product is a beautiful peach color, silky in texture, and tastes almost perfect. "All it needs is a bit of sweet chili sauce to perk it up," I say. "Here, taste." Who knows? A family dynasty might have been born from the ashes of our fathers.”

“The waitress comes over with a tray of the official cocktail of the evening, the ELT French 40. It's a riff on a French 75, adjusted to suit us, with bourbon instead of gin, champagne, lemon juice, and simple syrup, with a Luxardo cherry instead of a lemon twist. "Here you go, ladies. As soon as your guests are here we will start passing hors d'oeuvres, but I thought you might want a little sampler plate before they arrive." "That is great, thanks so much!" I say, knowing that in a half hour when people start to come in, we'll have a hard time eating and mingling. We accept the flutes and toast each other. The drink is warming and refreshing at the same time. The platter she has brought us contains three each of all the passed appetizers we chose: little lettuce cups with spicy beef, mini fish tacos, little pork-meatball crostini, fried calamari, and spoons with creamy burrata topped with grapes and a swirl of fig balsamic. There will also eventually be a few of their signature pizzas set up on the buffet, and then, for dinner, everyone has their choice of flat-iron steak, roasted chicken, or grilled vegetables, served with roasted fingerlings. For dessert, there is either a chocolate chunk or apple oatmeal cookie, served toasty warm with vanilla ice cream and either hot fudge or caramel on top, plus there will be their famous Rice Krispies Treats on the tables to share.”

“It depends on if I like the drink." He flashed her a grin. "You'll like it. Soft or hard?" Rosemary's brain went straight to the gutter. "Hard, please." Ellis pulled out a bottle of dark spiced rum, lemon juice, and a smaller curved bottle of maple syrup. He measured out the shots, filled the shaker with ice, and, with a firm smack, pushed the glass and shaker together. She watched, a little transfixed, as Ellis shook the liquid back and forth, his forearms flexing, before he dislodged the two pieces and sifted the cocktail into an elegant coupe glass. Ellis handed her the glass. "Tell me what you think." The liquid was a deep golden color. Rosemary took a small sip; the spiciness of the rum hit her first, an exquisite burning down her throat. And then the sweet smokiness of the maple syrup. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her skull because damn, this was delicious. "Fuck me," she moaned, immediately realizing the words that had just come out of her mouth. She wondered what point in this conversation might be a good time to crawl into a ball and die.”

“When some women felt fear, they covered it with an iron grate of courage, I thought. Men might be dangerous, but they were very often unperceptive. If fear only rumbled through a woman’s soul and glittered through her eyes, then perhaps the man she feared would not be aware it was there at all. He might even think that she was entirely confident, dauntless. He might believe her veneer of bravery.”