Blogiversary Week Review: Taken Honey-Pepper Salmon

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Pretty much any romance involving a kinky bookseller is always going to get my vote. And if it's by Charlotte Stein? Double vote! Can we vote twice? Whatever, I just did.

Taken, a recent offering by Stein, features Rosie Callahan, a young woman still in college, and Johann William Weir, a rare book dealer. In a prank-gone-wrong, Rosie is captured by the bookstore owner and chained up in his basement, a setup that sounds completely sinister and is actually totally comedic.

There's a lovely counterpoint in this book between the devilish elements of dark romance and the vulnerability, insecurity and humor both hero and heroine display over the course of the book. Both of these characters are more capable and better wrapped than they think they are, especially when it comes to each other. It takes this absurd situation to allow them both to unlock desires they either didn't know they had or weren't comfortable indulging. Plus there's an age gap here, which is my favorite thing in romance.

But the best part of Taken is just how slyly it references those 80s and 90s historicals that feature the kidnapping of the heroine by the hero. In those books, the heroine is often an innocent, but feisty young virgin and the hero an experienced, powerful Highlander or pirate or whatever. I loved the heck out of those books in high school and often find myself, to some degree, chasing that high when I dip into older historicals. But what worked for me at 17 isn't the same as what works for me at 36. Now the consent issues in those books bother me, keeping me from being as fully immersed in the story and the romance as I'd wish.

Taken captures all of that dark, powerful older man magic, but gives him to a heroine who is equally experienced and comfortable with her sexuality, if not everything about her looks. And while she is in theory chained up against her will, it's crystal clear from very early on in the story that she is way on board with every element of their quirky, unspoken and un-analyzed role-playing. It's the hero who is ambivalent about the things he wants, needing the heroine's push to indulge his darkest fantasies. It's the first time I've experienced a modern writer evoking the same feel of those barbarian encounters, never mind in a contemporary, without turning the heroine into a push-over or the hero into an ass. And doing it in a way that didn't conflict at all with my desire for the heroine's enthusiastic consent.

So the bottom line is that I adored Taken. It's a story with a new plot and an old feel, told in the inimitable style of one of contemporary romance's most interesting writers. It's even way more romantic than it had any right to be, what with the bubble baths and wine the and hacksaws and handcuffs. A thoroughly engaging, surprising and, of course, sexy read.

This recipe has absolutely nothing to do with the book. The couple do actually eat, um, something, I think? But when I discovered that hero was loosely based on the character Monroe from the television show Grimm (an homage more than a literal representation since Monroe is, like, a vegan werewolf and Johann...isn't), I absolutely had to share my very favorite ever salmon recipe, one I've been making for years.

One of the very memorable early scenes involving the Grimm character has him insisting on getting the recipe for "honey-pepper cedar plank vegan salmon" from the main character's girlfriend as a terribly ineffective diversionary tactic. It's a very awkward scene and reminded me a lot of how Johann acts in Taken. And seriously, if you haven't seen the show, he makes the whole thing.

Monroe, like Johann is such a delicious combination of competence, knowledge, experience and utter fumbling awkwardness that's it's impossible for me to completely separate the two. Knowing the inspiration for the character and Grimm being my one of my favorite television shows made this book all the more fun for me.

As for the recipe, it's crazy easy. Just a simple pan-fried salmon and a honey-cayenne pepper sauce that goes well with pretty much any kind of fish, veggies and (my favorite) as a dipping sauce for sweet potato fries. So if you have any left over or just want to make salmon for two, you might consider making the full sauce amount. I keep in it in the fridge in a squeeze bottle and put it on everything.

Oh, and this is a pretty intensely spicy sauce so if you're a person who likes things a little less hot, cut the cayenne pepper in half. You've been warned!

Honey-Pepper Salmon
adapted from InterCourses: An Aphrodisiac Cookbook
Makes: 4 servings
Difficulty: Easy

4 6-ounce salmon filets
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tsp minced garlic (about 4 cloves)
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons cayenne pepper (for a less spicy sauce, use 1 teaspoon)
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 cup lemon juice

1. Salt and pepper the salmon filets. In a medium-sized skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat until shimmering and fragrant. Starting naked side up if your salmon filets have skin, cook salmon for about 5-6 minutes each side for 1-inch thick filets. If yours are thicker or thinner, they may require more or less time.

2. In a small saucepan, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add garlic and cook for about 30 seconds or until fragrant. Add honey, mustard, cayenne pepper and coriander, whisking to combine. Remove from heat and whisk in and lemon juice. When salmon is done, drizzle a tablespoon or two over each filet and serve.

Disclosure: Charlotte Stein and I follow each other on Twitter, though I bought Taken for myself.

Reawakening Peaches and Cream Jello Mold

Disclaimer: If zombies, threesomes or Jello salads make you squirm (and not in the good way), you may want to back out of this post immediately.

The book I'm discussing this week is probably one of the weirdest things I've ever read, romance or otherwise. It's by Charlotte Stein, whose work I have long enjoyed, but curiously never written about here. In general, Stein's work is on the wonky end of the romance spectrum. She often writes about self-effacing women and men with messy, complicated desires. It seems her books are mostly written from the first person perspective of the heroine, which normally drives me batty, but from her actually works for me, probably because her heroines are not given to long introspective monologues so much as they are quick jabs of humor, most often directed at themselves.

Reawakening is no different from Stein's other works really. Except that it's a ménage book. And it takes place during a zombie apocalypse. I'd read one other ménage by Stein, but at the end, it's clear that one of the characters was a temporary foil to the hero and not going to be a permanent parts of their lives. In this book, the two heroes and the heroine are, as far as we know, the last unzombified humans on earth. If they all happen to be attracted to each other and down with communal boinking, well, at least that's not the craziest thing that happens in the book. Not to say that a relationship with more than two people is crazy. It's not. It's just that in the ménage romances I'm most familiar with, the characters think they're crazy for wanting what they want and that's the extent of the romance plot. I was ecstatic to find something rather different happening here.

The great thing about this book is that even though the threesome live in relative safety on an island in the middle of a lake, they're surrounded by zombies, nearly everyone else is either dead or a zombie and they might die any time, which makes the whole problem of how to break all of this to their parents a non-issue. There are still communication gaps, but at least they're related to insecurities held by each character and not jealousy, which gets very worn once you've read more than one of this type of book.

The other facet of why I appreciated this book is that if you've watched or read any horror, the sexually active girl is almost guaranteed to get dead at some point, probably while wearing a bra and panties. Stein bats that idea around like a kitty with a woolen mouse filled with catnip. Of the three characters, June, Jaime and Blake, June has had the most personal experience defending herself against zombies. Over the course of the book, she conks one on the head with a door, another with a bottle of windshield washer fluid and shoots another zombie in the head without hesitating or flinching. She's a badass. The guys may be able to run faster and lift more and have more useful long-term survival skills like operating a generator, but June is the one you want by your side when the monsters come calling. That's not to say she's not suffering from PTSD--they all are to some degree--but she's managing pretty well with the new reality considering it never seemed like she was anything special before the zombies arrived. The title is also a play on her reawakening sexuality, which has been suppressed in a world where nakedness is dangerous and survival takes precedence over any need higher up Maslow's chain.

Between the slight scariness that kept me on edge the whole book (even during the sexytimes, when I still couldn't quite forget the threat of danger), the m/m/f loving and the self-deprecating voice of a formerly overweight heroine with confidence struggles, a lot of people might not pick this one up and that would be a mistake. While each of these things has annoyed me in the hands of lesser writers, Stein pulls the reader into this world where all the rules are gone and three people who love each other get to remake it in their image. It's uplifting, in the end, leaving the reader hopeful that through their kindness, competence and love for each other, they can find other survivors and build up a world that's maybe a little better than what existed before. I thought it was delightful.

Practically the first thing June eats once she has been rescued by the heroes is canned peaches, which seem like a total luxury to her. Makes sense since she's been chased by zombies for the past two years. Luckily, it made it easy to know exactly what I would make if I could get through the book without freaking out. Because if canned peaches survive the zombie apocalypse, you just know that Jello does.

This recipe is totally zombie apocalypse friendly. The ingredients are all canned or otherwise securely packaged. It involves no fresh food at all. The water is all boiled and even the peach schnapps are pretty indestructible. Schnapps are basically flavored sugar water with 15% alcohol. It actually made me wonder why the heroine was sad about Budweiser. Hard alcohol lasts forever! Surely there was a liquor store to knock over somewhere. Though sad hero in the shower with a beer is a more likely picture than sad hero in the shower with a Fuzzy Navel, which is the only thing I can ever recall doing with peach schnapps besides this Jello and the ice cream I made a couple months ago.

This actually wasn't my favorite thing I've ever made, but even for non-fans of Jello molds, both my husband and I ate it and thought it was okay. If you're a huge Jello salad fan (and I know you're out there), this is probably epic.

Lucky for me, someone else already did the heavy lifting on this recipe, which is why you're getting blather instead of serious recipes tips. The one bit of advice I have is that Jello molds are readily available in American thrift stores if you don't already own one or two or three. The aluminum ones are apparently better than the plastic ones, which makes sense because they'll cool down faster. I got lucky and found the exact same mold the recipe writer was using, but any 9 cup mold will work. Otherwise you'll have to do math. Plus the original recipe didn't say anything about timing so I've adjusted it here to include how long the various layers need to be in the fridge. Definitely visit the above link as there are a number of excellent tips there that I am not reprinting here.

Plus, it's seriously pretty, especially for post-zombie apocalypse food.

Peaches and Cream Jello Mold
lightly adapted from The Kitchn
Makes: 12-16 servings, depending on serving size
Time: 5-6 hours (hands on time: 30 minutes)

2 (3 oz) packages of peach flavored Jello
3 1/2 cups boiling water, divided
1 1/4 cups cold water, divided
3/4 cup peach schnapps (or substitute cold water for non-alcoholic version)
1 (14 oz) can sweetened condensed milk
1 (15 oz) can sliced peaches in syrup (mine was 29 ounces in juice, which I don't recommend)
2 envelopes Knox unflavored gelatin

1. In a medium bowl, stir 2 cups boiling water into both packages of peach gelatin for 2 minutes until the gelatin is fully dissolved. Stir in 3/4 cups cold water and 3/4 cup peach schnapps. Refrigerate until gelatin thickens to the consistency of raw eggs, about 30-45 minutes.

2. Drain peaches well and arrange them in a formation in the bottom of the mold. Reserve the syrup from the can. Spoon the thickened peach gelatin into the mold over the arranged peach slices. Refrigerate until the gelatin is set but not firm (gelatin should stick the fingers when touched), about 45 minutes to 1 hour.

3. Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, sprinkle 2 packages of unflavored gelatin over 1/2 cup cold water and allow the gelatin to absorb the water. Stir in 1 1/2 cups boiling water for 2 minutes until gelatin is fully dissolved. Stir in sweetened condensed milk and peach syrup until the mixture is smooth. Refrigerate mixture until slightly thickened (about 30-45 minutes--can be done while the bottom layer firms) then gently spoon into the mold over the peach gelatin layer. Refrigerate overnight or until firm, about 4 hours.

4. To unmold your Jello mold, fill a sink or basin with warm water. Dip the mold just to the rim in the warm water for about 10 seconds. Lift from water, hold upright, and shake slightly to loosen the gelatin from mold. Place a cold, moistened plate over the top of the mold and invert the plate and mold together. Carefully lift the mold, if gelatin does not release dip the mold in warm water and try again.

Trust-Worthy Romance

Trust is an interesting phenomenon. In love or friendship, it's what lets people relax, let down their guards and just enjoy each other for who they are without worrying about being judged, hurt or ridiculed (except in good fun, of course). In romance novels, one or both characters' lack of it is often the main obstacle to a couple's happiness. A lack of trust creates such significant conflict between people that it carries practically the entire genre.

This week has been an interesting one in terms of my reading. I started and finished a book I had no expectation of liking, I finally slogged my way through the remainder of a book I despised (you can see my review here) and I took refuge in a book I knew I would almost certainly enjoy. The first was Nurse Janice Calling, "A Candlelight Romance" from Dell that was published in 1964. I'll have a full review of that for you on Monday since I really enjoyed it, but going in, my trust level of this particular book was low. I've not had a wealth of great experiences with older romances, from the cultural misogyny and sexism displayed in older works and downright rapey sex scenes to unsatisfying resolutions of the primary love story. I was pleased to discover a book that in some ways was more enlightened than even a lot of contemporary romances I've read.

Speaking of unenlightened contemporary romances, the one linked above is a good example of that. I don't want to relive the hell of that book, which is why I've linked my Goodreads review above, but thanks to that book, I now feel the same way about Skye Jordan as I do about Kathleen Woodiwiss, who has been crossed off my list for all time, and Mary Jo Putney, who I put in the "trust but verify" category of authors whose books I have enjoyed, but whose occasional forays into rapey sex make me nervous (Silk and Shadows - h/t to @GrowlyCub for furnishing me with the title). I recall finishing that book, but I haven't picked up a Putney since. I have no problem with rape in romance novels. Men rape women every day. It's just one of those things that I can only forgive from the very rare hero and thereby the very rare writer. Feel free to argue with me about Woodiwiss and Putney, by the way. I'm happy to consider new points of view and information outside my experience.

And then there are the writers I trust implicitly: Laura Kinsale, Cara McKenna and Charlotte Stein. None of these women write "easy" books. There's always a character or a situation or some deep, dark angst in their novels that walks the edge of whatever limits I have as a reader. Midsummer Moon is a bad example of a Laura Kinsale book and one I would never give to a newbie, mostly because it's relatively angst-free, happy and amusing. But I didn't know that going in. Nevertheless, in a week of intense news from the outside world, Kinsale was the first writer I reached for. But when a scary character or borderline sex or profound intensity come up in any of these writers' novels, I don't feel any anxiety about it. I'm secure in the knowledge that I'm in good hands.

I think this is the reason many of us read romance in the first place: the happy ending is guaranteed. No matter if it's unconvincing or presented as "happy for now", we all know what's coming. There's a lack of anxiety in romance--not throughout the stories, which run the gamut of all sorts of emotions--but in the end. As Sonny says in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, "Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not yet the end." We trust that in romance, this will always be true.

Which writers do you trust? Who do you reach for when everything else is crazy?