Is the way to my secret heart through my stomach? Do I come to crime and thriller writing through food, or have I become an (allegedly) international scofflaw because I’m drawn to crime? Am I just cheap?
I think it’s probably the former, and that my love of food has driven me to spirit (all right, smuggle) regional delicacies and foodstuffs home.
Those who follow me on social media know that I struggle mightily to achieve the perfect pie crust, and that I practice “seasonal gluttony.” That is, I gorge on fresh, local and in-season food. Miraculously, right about the time I’m getting tired of eating strawberries or asparagus, for instance, blueberries and cherries are coming on, and artichokes are plentiful. Later still, peaches, tomatoes, fresh corn…until we’re finally down to roots and tubers, cabbages and kale—plus whatever I’ve frozen!
But some things fall outside that cycle, and outside my (free) range.
Botarga is one such (sometimes spelled with two “t’s”). It’s Italian, dried fish eggs (either tuna or red mullet) that you grate over top of (preferably bucatini) pasta and serve tossed with capers, garlic, parsley and oil. Interestingly, you don’t put cheese on the dish, but rather a very light coating of breadcrumbs. It has a distinct aroma and taste—at once sharp and earthy. A pleasant funkiness, too! I prefer the tuna version, but its cost per ounce here in the U.S. rivals cocaine.
On my last trip back to the States from Italy, I made room in my bag for guanciale, prosciutto, pancetta, some smoked duck breast from my Oxford butcher. And botarga.
I had nothing to declare.
Surely “meat” on the declaration list meant fresh meat, which I would never have brought in my suitcase. These were cured! The customs official ordered me to open my bag. My wife looked on, shaking her head. The children stared glumly at me as though they might not ever see me again. The customs officer unzipped the bag and turned over a pair of blue jeans revealing my stowaways. She said I couldn’t have any of it, and my heart sank.
She began plucking out the various vacu-packed salumi. First the pancetta and the duck breast as I watched with tears in my eyes, then the prosciutto. She tossed them unceremoniously into a bin. (I expect customs officials eat very well.) She took hold of the guanciale and held it up to me: “No meat, sir,” she said.
Boldly, I grabbed hold of the botarga. “This isn’t meat,” I said, holding it up briefly before stuffing it into my laptop bag. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. I manfully met her gaze. “Not meat, officer,” I said again. Which was the truth. More or less. She sighed, looked around for a moment and then scribbled something on a form. With a flick of her hand she indicated that I should leave now.
Which I did before she could change her mind. There was a long line behind us.
Next up: Montreal Bagels, smoked haddock and Cuban cigars (I know, cigars are not food—but truly, almost as important!)
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You can check out McCrone’s latest short stories and novels below:
“Eight O’Clock Sharp” in Retreats from Oblivion: the Journal of NoirCon. (free online)
Set in Philadelphia’s 9th Street Market, Thomas is a man outside of time, forgotten, but trying to do the right thing while contending with avaricious forces.
“Ultimatum Games” in Rock and Hard Place magazine issue #7
A rare book heist, bad decisions. The narrator and his partner-in-crime clash over evolving bourgeois norms.
“Nostalgia” in Low Down Dirty Vote, vol. 3
An armed group tries to resurrect a past that never was as they struggle with change.
James McCrone is the author of the Imogen Trager political suspense-thrillers Faithless Elector, Dark Network , and Emergency Powers–noir tales about a stolen presidency, a conspiracy, and a nation on edge. All books are available on BookShop.org, IndyBound.org, Barnes & Noble, your local bookshop, and Amazon. eBooks are available in multiple formats including Apple, Kobo, Nook and Kindle.
His next book, w/t Bastard Verdict, is a noir political thriller set in Scotland, currently under review. His work-in-progress is a mystery-thriller set in Oregon’s wine country…A (pinot) Noir, called Witness Tree.
A Seattle native (mostly), James now lives in South Philadelphia with his wife and three children. He’s a member of the The Mystery Writers of America, Int’l Assoc. of Crime Writers, Int’l Thriller Writers, Philadelphia Dramatists Center and is the vice-president of the Delaware Valley chapter of the Sisters in Crime network. James has an MFA from the University of Washington in Seattle.
For a full list of appearances and readings, make sure to check out his Events/About page. And follow this blog!