Book Spotlight: The Chef’s Secret by Crystal King
A captivating novel of Renaissance Italy detailing the mysterious life of Bartolomeo Scappi, the legendary chef to several popes and author of one of the bestselling cookbooks of all time, and the nephew who sets out to discover his late uncle’s secrets—including the identity of the noblewoman Bartolomeo loved until he died.
When Bartolomeo Scappi dies in 1577, he leaves his vast estate—properties, money, and his position—to his nephew and apprentice Giovanni. He also gives Giovanni the keys to two strongboxes and strict instructions to burn their contents. Despite Scappi’s dire warning that the information concealed in those boxes could put Giovanni’s life and others at risk, Giovanni is compelled to learn his uncle’s secrets. He undertakes the arduous task of decoding Scappi’s journals and uncovers a history of deception, betrayal, and murder—all to protect an illicit love affair.
As Giovanni pieces together the details of Scappi’s past, he must contend with two rivals who have joined forces—his brother Cesare and Scappi’s former protégé, Domenico Romoli, who will do anything to get his hands on the late chef’s recipes.
With luscious prose that captures the full scale of the sumptuous feasts for which Scappi was known, The Chef’s Secret serves up power, intrigue, and passion, bringing Renaissance Italy to life in a delectable fashion.
after he first laid eyes upon the most beautiful girl in the world, Bartolomeo
had the good fortune to overhear the maids talking about a girl at the palazzo.
Two of the serving maids huddled in the pantry near his post where he was prepping
nightingales for the cena. When they mentioned the dress she had worn the night
before, Bartolomeo realized the principessa was the object of their admiration.
a thin slip of a girl who served the cardinale’s sister. The other was a young
woman who had caught his fancy for a time the summer before, but soon bored
Bartolomeo with her empty gossip.
Roma,” the first said, awe in her voice. They talked of the girl’s
extraordinarily wealthy family, of her famed dressmaker, and of how long it
took to wrangle her curls each morning.
name, Bartolomeo had to put his knife down for fear of cutting himself. Oh, to
know her true name! Happiness filled him like a carafe of fine wine. Her name,
he thought, was like the taste of strawberries sprinkled with sugar. It was
like the summer sun touching the petal of a freshly bloomed flower. That
evening, when he gazed out his little garret window, he wished he could shout
her name across the rooftops, but he could never say it aloud. To do so was too
dangerous, for her and for him. He would take a thousand lashings for his
Stella [Author’s note, this is a pet name
that Bartolomeo has for her], but he could not bear to have her come to
harm.
Stella stopped Bartolomeo in the loggia. The sky was bright and the October air
was still gentle and warm. He was readying to leave the palazzo to go to market
when she approached. He was so startled to see her there he stopped in his
tracks, mouth agape.
radiant in a red velvet gown, her hair piled high upon her head. Her beauty was
staggering, her skin so clear, her cheeks ruddy and fresh. What a sight he must
seem in comparison, with his own hair a tussle of wild waves, a grease stain
adorning one sleeve. He hadn’t bathed, and he was certain he smelled too much
like onions and ham.
discomfort and giggled, in a way that immediately eased his fear. She gently
touched his arm with one hand, and with the other she pressed a piece of paper
into his palm. “What is your name?”
see who might be witnessing the exchange, but there were only a couple of
gardeners in the vicinity, none of whom paid them any mind. “Bartolomeo,” he
said, gathering courage.
and shared her own name. Bartolomeo’s heart sang as she repeated the word he
had been turning over and over in his mind since the day before.
how much I love his tourtes.”
head vigorously. “I will, madonna, I will.”
another smile. “I liked the radish flower the best, though.”
away. He stood there, staring at the curve of her departing body, wondering
what had just happened. He stared until she rounded the corner of the loggia.
He was light-headed and it felt like he was spinning, like a little bird on a
spit, fire rising all around it. The piece of paper in his hand was small and
warm. He hurried out of the palazzo and down the cobbled street lining the adjoining
Rio di San Luca canal.
one could see, he stopped and unfolded the little piece of paper.
To follow the tour, please visit Crystal King’s page on Italy Book Tours.
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Crystal King is an author, culinary enthusiast, and marketing expert. Her writing is fueled by a love of history and a passion for the food, language, and culture of Italy. She has taught classes in writing, creativity, and social media at several universities including Harvard Extension School and Boston University, as well as at GrubStreet, one of the leading creative writing centers in the US.
A Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and former co-editor of the online literary arts journal Plum Ruby Review, Crystal received her MA in critical and creative thinking from UMass Boston, where she developed a series of exercises and writing prompts to help fiction writers in medias res. She resides in Boston but considers Italy her next great love after her husband, Joe, and their two cats, Nero and Merlin. She is the author of Feast of Sorrow.
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FTC Disclosure: I received a copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. I was not monetarily compensated for my opinion.
