86. Rosella, The Food Detective

I’m a foodie and a pretty good cook, as family and friends tell me. I especially love preparing anything Southeast Asian or Mexican and fusions thereof.  If I can add something fresh from my garden or greenhouse, it’s all the better!  Sometimes I go Middle Eastern, certainly Italian and will venture into Spanish, Caribbean, or East Indian. A family member once asked me how I got so interested in all this international cooking I like to serve up, and I simply told him, “Rosella.”

We like to pigeon-hole each other according to our station in life or our work experience. “She’s a retired engineer.” “He is a city councilman.” “This one’s homeless.” “That one served in Desert Storm.” It is as though that one descriptor satisfies all queries about who a person is, what they’ve learned and loved about life.

Now and then you get to know some complex and diversely talented person who defies such a narrow definition. For several years in the 70’s, I found myself humbled in the presence of one of them, Rosella Peters. Many people regarded her as a beloved music teacher, and that leaves a lot unsaid.

I was in my early twenties when I met Rosella, the wife of my instrument making partner, Jack Peters. Rosella taught band in the nearby elementary schools by day, an unimaginable job for which she received not enough pay but plenty of love from thousands of students and parents. At home, she was handy at fixing things from broken bird wings to gummed-up carburetors. And she was Jack’s helpmate, in itself a job that should have earned her a medal. (Jack, if you're reading this, you've got to know what I'm talking about!) Rosella had an edge to her, a no-nonsense manner that was augmented by the way she wagged her finger when she spoke with a tough-kid North Jersey accent. I’m glad I never was on the opposite side of an argument with her!

But what I will always remember most fondly was her uncanny skill in the kitchen. Lots of people can follow a good recipe, many can embellish one for the better. Rosella was one of the rare few who can go totally off-road and make stuff up. She loved foreign cuisine, but if she needed a recipe or something, there was no internet then. You could call a friend who might know the answer, or you drove to the bookstore or library.  For Rosella, it was more fun to just figure things out. That’s why I call her the Food Detective! She had lots of cookbooks but I bet she used them mostly for the reference charts and tables of cooking temps and so forth.  

The Peters often took me along for meals out, delighting in introducing me to something new.  Before that, I had considered Swiss cheese or Canadian bacon as international foods. But after being around the Peters, I became familiar with authentic tastes of many places I would never actually visit: Thailand, Lebanon, Japan, Ethiopia, Malaysia, South America. I never knew there were so many wild and zesty flavors. Rosella thought she was quite the spy, sniffing out the secret ingredients, the exotic spices and sauces. She might ask the waiter or owner something like “How do you get the pita bread to puff up like a pocket?” If he answered anything more than “Hot stone oven…” she’d shush him not to spoil the fun for her. She needed to figure it out on her own. The next day she’d be shopping for a baking stone. Rosella rolled up her sleeves and put on her lab coat (apron, that is) and went to work in her kitchen, The Food Detective’s Laboratory. And voila, she’d created real pita pocket bread. It was her hobby, recreating the restaurants’ dishes. It was quite a kick to watch as her discerning nose and palate analyzed and tested; she had a true understanding of food science. There was nothing she wouldn’t attempt.

I remember her first tries at tabouleh. She had just discovered a Lebanese place and hit it off with the chef.  She hurried home to try out her idea of how that lemony cracked wheat and parsley dish should be prepared. I think she went through 2 or 3 batches with so-so results. One more trip to the restaurant for another taste test—she lit up and smiled, “Mint!”

Crazy good stuff came from her kitchen every weekend. Hot and Sour Soup, just like at Harbin’s North Chinese. Satay chicken skewers just like the Malaysian place.  Turkish coffee with cardamom, Florentine risotto, Spanish Paella, Welsh rarebit, Polish stuffed cabbage, Greek souvlaki. Jack and I, as well as anyone else who happened by, would be asked to sample and judge Rosella’s creations against the restaurant original. She really was a mad scientist!

Rosella needed lots of supplies and ingredients. Since she was busy by day teaching band to school kids, Jack and I took her shopping list and went out for part of a day to find stuff all over the Seattle area. We discovered the best suppliers of exotic vegetables, cheeses, meats, liqueurs, wines and teas. There was the Polish deli, then the Vietnamese grocer and the World spice merchant. We visited all the quirky little stalls tucked into the lower levels of the Pike Street Market, and got to know the shops of China Town.  

You might think that with all this talent and dedication to great food we’d inevitably arrive at the idea of running a restaurant together… yeah, nah. I may be wrong, but that would have taken all the fun out of it!

Yes, we did eat a lot, especially when Rosella made multiple batches for us to test! And Jack and I did while away some hours per week in search of every offbeat thing from fresh lemon grass to Caerphilly cheese. There were times when our so-called musical instrument making business would better be described as Rosella’s kitchen backup crew.  I was getting fat and lazy, and needed to concentrate on learning a craft. As much as I’d miss all the fun with food, I had to cut ties with Jack and Rosella.

Rosella the Food Detective made a lasting impression on me. For example, I am open to trying almost any food from around the world. I rarely take a recipe as-is, it suits me to improvise and substitute, just like Rosella used to do. I like finding out secret magic ingredients—like a dollop of ketchup in the Pad Thai! And it is nice to find a special deli or farm stand with new things to try.

Jack and I spoke recently, the first time in many, many years. I just learned the sad news that his lovely wife and partner had died in 1993 at the age of 50. I then read in a Seattle Times obituary about Rosella’s Memorial Service. Jack conducted a professional band, performing Sousa marches and other tunes you might expect to hear at a grade school band concert. That was obviously in honor of her music teaching career. I can only assume that huge tables of food delights were served to celebrate one of Rosella’s other great talents. Sorry I missed it!