Yesterday I started drafting The Demon Goes Hungry, which will be the third book in my Touched by a Demon series. (The Demon Wore Stilettos has been pushed out to the final book in the series. It made sense as Book 3 when I was planning a trilogy, but now that I’m planning an ennealogy it needs to be Book 9.)
The premise of the story is that heroine Katie Rose Landry owns a food truck called “Devilish Delights,” from which she sells Cajun-spiced food, including deviled eggs that Satan adores.
In fact, Satan loves them so much he orders Belphegor, the Demon of Gluttony and Master of Hell’s Kitchen, to recruit Katie to become his private chef.
Much silliness and danger ensues. I hope.
The heroine in Book One, The Demon Always Wins, was a nurse. I’ve never been a nurse, but I did work in a free clinic for a year and a half as a bookkeeper, and I know nurses I could ask questions, so I felt okay about that.
The heroine in Book 2, The Demon’s in the Details, was a painter. I know zilch about painting, but I have a couple of friends who are painters who answered questions and suggested books and moves about artists, which I read and watched.
The heroine in my (as yet unpublished) small-town Contemporary was a dancer-turned-real-estate-developer. I’ve never taken so much as the first dance lesson but again I have a couple of friends who are dancers who agreed to be subject-matter experts.
(I lead a charmed life and am lucky enough to be surrounded by kind and generous people.)
And now the heroine of The Demon Goes Hungry is a trained chef . Even though she’s cramped inside a 7′ x 14′ space, she’s a wizard with all things edible.
The good news is, I have actually done some cooking in my life.
The bad news is, I’m not good at it. My daughter co-owns a restaurant/event space about 70 miles east of where I live. The deliciousness of her food has brought home to me just how not good at it I am.
I’m more nervous about getting this wrong than I was the other two. Possibly because there are a lot more people out there with the knowledge to identify my mistakes than the other two.
Anyway, just as I read books on painting (and even tried my hand at water color, acrylics, and even a group mural project), I’ve decided I’m going to actually attempt some cooking.
Specifically, Cajun deviled eggs.
I whipped up my first batch this morning for my husband’s family reunion. I took 24. We came home with 8.
Do you know how bad deviled eggs have to be to stop people from eating them?
I’m not sure what I did, but they came out as salty as the Dead Sea.
But I am undaunted. There’s a neighborhood cookout coming up for the 4th of July and I’m going to try again.
And if anyone complains, I’ll tell them the devil made me do it.