By Evelyn Fishko from Peg Cochran’s Gourmet De-Lite Series
I run a little cookery store in Woodstone, Connecticut called Bon Appetit. Woodstone is an hour by train from the city (New York City, but we just call it the city around here and no one ever makes the mistake of thinking you’re talking about San Francisco or Chicago.) It’s about an hour and a half away if you’re driving. We used to be a sleepy little town back in the fifties and sixties when most everyone worked locally. I had my shop back then, but the most exotic thing I ever sold was the occasional jar of chili powder.
That’s all changed. Young couples with children are moving out here from the city, renovating the larger, older homes and tearing down the smaller ones and building sprawling houses with living rooms, great rooms, enormous kitchens and five or six bedrooms. I hate to think of trying to keep a place like that clean, but of course they all have help.
My store has changed, too. Now I stock truffle oil, three kinds of caviar, things like garam masala and charlotte molds and a whole lot of stuff no one had ever heard of before. I don’t mind—I believe in keeping up with the times.
There’s a new gal in town—Gigi Fitzgerald—who runs a gourmet diet service. She comes in a lot for things she can’t get at the big Shop & Save just outside of town. Even though she moved out from the city, she’s more like one of us if you know what I mean. She’s got a tiny cottage that she’s left just the way it is—no adding on rooms it doesn’t need—and I happen to know she buys her underwear six to the pack from the grocery store. She got mixed up in a murder right after she got here, but everything turned out okay. She’s a nice gal—I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.
If you’re ever in Woodstone, stop by Bon Appetit and say hello. I love a good gossip just like everyone else.