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The Food
Temptress Rekaya Gibson
Xpress Yourself
Publishing, January 15, 2009
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The Food Temptress: Also available in major bookstores everywhere.
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ho knows how to convert a gay man into a straight lover using a pineapple upside-down cake? Only Ambrosia Bourgeois, The Food Temptress, can accomplish such a task. The New Orleans Goddess of Gastronomy uses food to seduce men in hopes of creating Mister Right. Paralleling southern cuisine, each short story captures the hearts and minds of different men. In the "Power of the Pudding" chapter, Ambrosia realizes that her bread pudding cannot withstand the demands of an associate minister's plans to make her a dutiful wife. When she decides to forget about him and travels to Atlanta to visit her friend, she ends up in the bathroom with Black Thunder, a local stripper. It is not her fault; the peach cobbler was intended for the birthday girl. Ambrosia perfects her craft by using traditional recipes from her deceased grandmother and occasionally consulting her mysterious aunt. When she discovers that her meals fall short of converting the man to her specifications, she moves on to the next one—total of 16 ranging from the local police chief to a Bourbon Street musician. Will she reach her goal before the monstrous hurricane hits her city? The Food Temptress serves a delectable treat connected by Ambrosia's continuing quest for both romantic and culinary perfection.
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Recently, the federal government selected her to review and score grant applications on underage drinking. Rekaya has spent ten years working in the violence/drug prevention fields and several semesters teaching a communication course at a community college. In addition, she has taught employees at a local casino how to write in English. This encouraged her to start her own nonprofit agency that focuses on language skills and literacy.
In the near future, Rekaya plans to dabble in politics - or at least write about it - as she completes her doctoral degree in political science. She holds a Master's degree in Public Administration from the University of New Orleans and a Bachelor of Science degree in Public Affairs with a concentration in Criminal Justice from Indiana University. Although a transplant to Nevada because of Hurricane Katrina, she now calls Las Vegas her home. She was born and raised in Fort Wayne, Indiana. You can reach Rekaya by going to her websites at www.rekayagibson.com, www.gibsongirlpublishing.com, www.foodtemptress.com, and www.grantsgaloreandmore.com. |
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Down to the Nitty-Gritty
“Help! Someone, help!” screams a woman’s voice. Ambrosia looks up from selecting fresh flowers at the farmer’s market to figure out why the woman is screaming. “Move it, lady…” A man pushes her out of the way and she goes flying, landing facedown on the cement. Flashes of white socks and Gucci shoes sprint past as she lies there, helpless. As Ambrosia gathers her thoughts and the scattered items from her purse, she notices a tall, slender man approaching. She feels better already. He walks by her without looking down. As a matter of fact, he almost steps on her finger. “Watch it!” Ambrosia yells. Without even turning around, the guy keeps on walking and enters Stand and Deliver, a small café on the corner. Ambrosia cannot believe it. She thinks to herself, How dare he! She can’t figure out why he doesn’t react to all the commotion going on around him, acting as though everything is transparent. She assumes that living in a big city has desensitized him to his surroundings. Whatever the case, Ambrosia is curious. The bone structure of his face makes him appear official, a military type. He looks debonair in his Armani suit—the kind of man Ambrosia fantasizes about in GQ magazine. He is definitely a professional. Ambrosia decides that she’ll visit the farmer’s market tomorrow at the same time, hoping to see him again. She lives in the neighborhood, about three blocks away on St. Charles Avenue. After Ambrosia’s mother died in childbirth, her maternal grandmother Gloria Bourgeois (also known as Nana), assumed full guardianship of the infant. She never wanted to experience the loss of another loved one so she named her granddaughter Ambrosia as a symbol of conferring immortality. Learning from the best, Ambrosia grew up in the house on St. Charles experimenting with foods and drinks. When Nana passed away from a broken heart shortly after her husband Poppi died, Ambrosia inherited the house on St. Charles Avenue, a generous bequest, and family recipes. a a a By 8:31 the next morning, “Mr. Man” hasn’t passed the market yet. Ambrosia decides to buy milk and eggs, and gives the clerk ten dollars. Glancing up, she says, “‘Mr. Man’ just passed by,” grabs her items and scoots to the sidewalk. “Wait! Your change, miss!” the cashier says. Ambrosia shouts over her shoulder, “Keep it. I’ve got to go!” He goes into the same café. She follows “Mr. Man,” trying not to be conspicuous. It’s a small place—just six bistro tables with three chairs each. There’s one long, waist-high table in the front window and another one along the wall on the right, where people stand and eat while staring out the window. The walls are painted gold and accented with cheap pictures of coffee mugs, pastries, eggs and bacon, sandwiches, or fruit. “Mr. Man” sits by himself at a table in the back. The waitress greets him with a chipper, “Good morning!” He replies in a monotone, “Eggs, bacon, toast with no butter, and black coffee.” “What an all-around guy,” Ambrosia remarks sarcastically—but she still wants to get close to him. She needs to know what “floats his boat.” What makes him tick? Ambrosia watches “Mr. Man” while he eats. He is meticulous. He arranges his napkin neatly on his right leg. He makes sure that his plate aligns with the edge of the table and that his silverware sits in its proper place. His actions remind her of the lead actor in “American Psycho.” After his ritual, he begins eating, chewing his food slowly as if being conscious of the number of bites. Ambrosia thinks, What a bore, and rolls her eyes. “He definitely needs some excitement in his life,” she says out loud. She knows that she can provide it for him. Ambrosia is so engrossed in this stranger that she doesn’t even order anything to eat or drink. “Mr. Man” finishes his food and flags the waitress down for his check. He pays with a credit card, signs the receipt and heads back up the street toward the farmer’s market. Ambrosia makes a beeline for the table where he was sitting to get a glance at the credit card receipt. She reads the signature, Norris Richards. “Excuse me, ma’am. I need to get this.” The waitress quickly grabs the receipt. “Does that gentleman come in here all the time?” asks Ambrosia. “Yes, why?” the waitress inquires. “I was just wondering; he looks familiar.” “Mr. Richards dines here every day except on weekends.” Ambrosia notices a “Help Wanted” sign in the window. She would seem desperate if she got a job at the café just to be close to a complete stranger, but she does not care. Ambrosia loves a challenge. “Who should I talk to about the position?” she inquires. A woman behind her answers, “Me, Inez Homer. I own this place with my husband. Do you have any experience?” “Yes, I’m a great cook and an exceptional hostess,” replies Ambrosia, in a matter of fact voice. “Good, you can wait tables for me. How soon can you start?” she asks with a smile. “I can start tomorrow.” |
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