State of the Onion Read Online Free PDF Page B

asparagus from the boiling water after its four-minute bath then waited for it to cool slightly before beginning to slice the blanched stalks for the soup. “Really, Ollie, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about—”
    She was interrupted by Bucky’s arrival. The final member of our permanent staff, he didn’t socialize much with the rest of us. That was fine by me. Bucky and Laurel Anne had worked together in the White House kitchen under the previous administration. Henry had never told me the entire story of why she left. All I knew was that my subsequent hiring after Laurel Anne’s departure had won me a prime spot on Bucky’s hit list.
    The four of us stopped talking the minute Bucky walked in. But it bothered me that we did.
    I shrugged. What did it matter if Bucky heard us? We all knew that Laurel Anne was the lead contender for the executive chef position. Catching Cyan’s eye, I said, “Thanks, but come on.” I cut into a segment of grapefruit and expressed its juice into a bowl. “The First Lady’s been Laurel Anne’s guest on the show…what? twice?…in the past four months. That wins her big brownie points.” I diced the remaining fruit, grimacing at nothing in particular. “I don’t even know why Laurel Anne needs to audition. The prior First Family ate her meals for years. For crying out loud, Mrs. Campbell’s probably already made up her mind. And this is all just wait-and-see…for show.”
    Next to me, Henry prepared the entrée. Since halibut is a lean fish easily susceptible to over-or undercooking, I’d decided on a simple pan-frying method. We’d had the fish flown in from Alaska waters, vacuum-sealed in manageable-sized pieces and kept on ice to maintain freshness, but no flesh ever touched ice directly. Later, we’d brown them on one side in olive oil, then bake them in flavored butter. Henry shook his head as he expertly sliced the flatfish into steaks. “Don’t be so down on yourself, Ollie. Mrs. Campbell knows you, too.” He graced me with one of his fatherly smiles, the kind I couldn’t resist. “And I know you.”
    â€œThanks,” I said, smiling back.
    Cyan piped in again. “And you know, the TV show might just work against her. The White House doesn’t allow that sort of distraction among the staff. Knowing her, she’d never give up the glamour.”
    Bucky spoke up from his quiet corner. “Laurel Anne gave an interview about her upcoming audition. I saw it on a local channel last night.”
    I stopped what I was doing. We all did.
    â€œShe’s from Idaho, you know. The First Lady’s home state.” Bucky raised his eyes to ensure we were paying attention. We were. “If Laurel Anne gets the executive chef position, she says she’d happily give up Cooking for the Best because her new vocation will be ‘Cooking for the Prez.’”
    When Bucky returned to shelling pistachio nuts, I made a gagging motion for Cyan and Henry to see.
    Like he had eyes in the back of his head, Bucky addressed me again. “Just think, Ollie, if Laurel Anne gets the nod, you’ll be reporting to her.”
    â€œMaybe, maybe not.” I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep my voice level. “If she’s in charge, I don’t see myself sticking around here very long.”
    Henry gave me an avuncular pat on the back. “Then it would be the White House’s loss.”

    BEFORE THE GUESTS ARRIVED, I STOLE OVER TO the State Dining Room to have a quick look. As always, the sheer grandeur took my breath away. The staff bustled about, making last-minute adjustments to the placement of water glasses and candles on round tables covered in saffron-colored silk. Our floral designer, Kendra, and her staff snipped and pruned and made tiny changes to the green mums and hot pink roses she’d shaped to resemble elephants in honor of