The Bellini Card

79

In the signora’s frying pan Yashim fried slices of aubergine in oil. When they were brown, he took them out and laid them on a plate. He chopped tomatoes roughly and put them into the pan with a pinch of salt and sugar, stirring them from time to time.

He peeled and chopped a few cloves of garlic, which followed the onions into the cauldron. When the onions were soft, he stirred in a couple of pounds of minced lamb. The lamb had been expensive; he had to try several butchers before he found it.

The meat browned. He threw in a big pinch of cinnamon, a bunch of torn basil, and the tomatoes.

In the milk pan he melted butter and flour to make a thick roux. He added milk slowly, keeping the pan at the edge of the fire. When he had the sauce, he sprinkled it with salt and a pinch of grated nutmeg.

He scraped the meat into the flat earthenware, covered it with layers of aubergine, and poured the sauce on top.

With the moussaka ready, he rinsed off the frying pan and oiled it. When it was very hot he crushed into it a few dried peppers between the palms of his hands and cooked them until the flakes were almost black. He spooned the homemade kirmizi biber into a cup of flour.

“The Armenian monastery.”

He spoke so quietly that Palewski, chasing flies on the windowpane with a handkerchief, couldn’t be sure he’d heard properly.

“The monastery?”

“You said you were giddy. You were in the library, looking at a Koran.”

“That’s right. Felt peculiar.”

“An old Koran?”

“No, no. Quite recent-very lovely, too.”

“From the Aspi family, you said? Did you see who made it?”

“I just wanted to go home and sleep, Yashim.”

“I’d like to see it,” Yashim said.

“Now?”

“I think that would be best,” Yashim agreed. “Wrap up. It could be cold on the water.”