8 medium peaches, peeled, halved, sliced 1/8-inch thick (reserve liquid from peaches)
1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons sugar, divided
1/4 cup orange liqueur
3 large egg yolks, room temperature
1/3 cup Marsala wine
1 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon confectioners’ sugar
8 Amaretti cookies, crushed
Place peach slices in large bowl. Add 1/4 cup sugar and orange liqueur to coat. Toss well. Refrigerate 2 to 5 hours. In another bowl, whisk egg yolks with 3 tablespoons sugar until pale yellow, approximately 2 minutes. Add Marsala wine. Set bowl over pot of simmering water. Whisk constantly until mixture is very pale yellow and has consistency of whipped cream, approximately 8 minutes. Do not let mixture boil. Set bowl in larger bowl filled with ice water to cool.
In another bowl, whip cream and confectioners’ sugar to soft peaks. Fold half the cream into the pale yellow mixture to combine. Fold balance of whipped cream into mixture.
Arrange peach slices, with their liquid, in a large bowl or individual stemmed glasses. Top with creamy zabaglione and sprinkle with crushed Amaretti cookies. Serves 6.
I was sitting on the lounge chair in my living room at my apartment thinking about the past six treacherous, grueling weeks that had gone by. Yes, the trial was over. In fact, it was over for me five days ago. There were three convictions out of five. De Noie was dismissed before the ending. Principe was acquitted. The three convicted were waiting to be sentenced at a later date. It had been a long trial. The prosecutor was on direct for eighteen days, and the defense was on for eleven. My ass cheeks sprouted blisters from sitting on that hard chair. When I arrived back in Fort Myers, I didn’t let anyone know that I was back in town. I left my car at the airport and took a cab to the place I called home now. I unplugged my phone and just relaxed. I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone. Not even Belinda. If there was something I needed, I’d send for it by taxi.
After I got the call about the convictions, the agents and the lead prosecutor called to say they wanted to come down and celebrate. “We’ll go over to that place—Night Life,” the prosecutor said. “I really like that place. Do you still go there once in a while, Joe?” It was a question that was saying he wanted information. He didn’t like me going there because it was a New York–style club.
His question was a test. There’s no way I could go in there with that group of guys now. I mean, like, the FBI agents aren’t the smartest guys in the world, but they aren’t the dumbest either. That’s all they would have to see—the people there kissing my ring, so to speak. It would be very embarrassing for all of us. I wouldn’t put them in the position where they felt that I was being underhanded to them. I liked them, and in my corrupted mind I felt that I was doing no wrong. It had nothing to do with the case we went to court on. So why not!
“Hell, no, Roma!” I said. “I haven’t been to that place in a long time. Their kitchen got closed for quite a while. They were closed because of rodent infestation.”
“You’re kidding.” Roma laughed. “I’ll be damned. It looked like such a nice club, too. That’s a private club, isn’t it, Joe? I remember how well they treated you over there. That’s the place I told you not to frequent too often. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. That’s the place, all right.” I had to make it sound more convincing, so I added, “It was in the newspaper here about what happened. One of the members took some guests there for dinner to celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and while they were eating, three or four rats fell on their table from the suspended ceiling and were running all around the table eating from the people’s plates. Yeah, it was really bad for them. The board of health closed them down. They just now reopened, but they lost a lot of their business. I know I wouldn’t even have a drink there, much less eat.”
“I wouldn’t either. Oh, well, you can cook, then. Whaddaya say, Joe?” Roma asked.
“Sure. Why not?”
They came down the following week. Seven of them. So I prepared lasagna for them.