The Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence

[Pleater]

This has now (1st December), wound its way to a sort of finish. You will find all sorts of corresponding threads in other parts of the forum. Not all of them (and this is the slightly worrying part) are due to my reading them before this was written - there is a thread on kilts as costume for instance, which I just noticed. Recipes and time travel are in the forum, but I hope I have given them an interesting twist. The lightning strike just 200 yards from Hamish and his Kollection really happened, so did some of the other weather, but not all of it. The colours of the New Forest trees were real this year. There are inconsistencies which are both intentional and accidental. The mock Victorian style which is somewhat erratic is of course in emulation of other narrations here.

There was no plot for this, it just arrived, it was written straight into the reply window with very little editing. Most of it was as much a puzzle to me as I am sure it will be to those who attempt to read it. Part of one sentance was removed retrospectively to allow a later thing to be true, otherwise it is a continuous development.

The spelling is eratic, I have a US spellchecker which wants to take out the English u and replace s with z and which is going to get its **** kicked when I get the time. Oh - I think **** is ruder in the US than here - here it is just what you find by moving your hands to the rear and then inwards when in a relaxed standing position. If you get called an *** here it means the small equine animal with long ears.

There are few names - I am sure it is perfectly obvious who they are, but I go through life without the ability to remember a lot of names and seem to manage alright.

Don't tell Panache that the British Navy still tend to add angustura bitters to gin, rather than wormwood - vermouth, that is.

This is where it began.


In an attempt to persuade Mr Dove to continue with his literary offerings, I was intending to use the books of accumulated culinary arts which were kept in the supercooled safe in the lower cellars of the Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence.

Imagine my consternation when upon approaching the fine old oak doors I observed that the lower panel of one of them had been removed. Having gained access to the old wine cellar which had been utilized for its supposed security, I found that the door to the safe was not locked. Luckily the door had been latched closed, so the contents remained at a suitably low temperature. Having taken the insulating gloves from the ornate hook which bore my name, and drawn them onto my trembling hands, I examined the contents of the safe and discovered that the penultimate volume of recipes was missing from the series which I had thought safely hidden from those who might abuse their powers.

Over the years experiments had proven that the omission or substitution of a single ingredient resulted in excellent though usually high calorie dishes which were entirely lacking in the effect experienced by those consuming the dishes conforming to the recipes.

I was so shaken to see the gap at 'desserts' in the row of matching volumes that I almost failed to check the folders of hand written recipes in the box file beneath the shelf. However, I noted that the lid of the file was not properly secured, and I almost swooned as I realised that the original manuscript of 'The Joy of Snacks' had also been taken. A deep breath of the ice cold air restored my senses, and I hurriedly checked the contents of the other folders. Much to my relief, but also astonishment, I found that the sheet with the recipe and method for making Strawberry Wobblers had been left behind loose in the file. I placed it in its folder and closed the lid of the box file, replaced it on the floor of the safe, and began to swing the door closed.

I heard an exclamation behind me, and looked around to see the two other directors of the Institute staring at me wide eyed. The door thudded closed.

'Ladies, someone has removed The Joy of Snacks and Volume Nine from the safe.' I informed them, my voice tremulous.

To my surprise they both blushed like maidens, and I realised that they each carried identical cold bags, which they now lifted and placed on the small table with the cooling coils used when one of the recipes was to be examined.

'We did not take them.' said Daphne, hurriedly.
'Obviously,' I replied. 'Neither of you would have needed to remove the panel from the door to gain entry here, you could have removed and returned the recipes undetected.'
'These packs were left with two of our suppliers who made deliveries today, one addressed to each of us by name,' Bronwen declared as her colour faded. 'We met in the larder on our way here.' She frowned and looked around, 'Was there a third item removed?'
It was my turn to blush hotly despite the chill of the room.