For six generations, the Belvedere family dominated the culinary landscape of New Orleans, a city that boasts what is perhaps the most vibrant, exciting, and authentic cuisine in America. But each generation relinquished control of the family restaurant-best known for its world famous Oysters Belvedere-only after succumbing to the madness that has plagued the dynasty since its arrival from the Canary Islands. Now, after the business' doors have remained closed for years, the next scion of the Belvedere clan has determined to seize his birthright . . . if only he can find the annotated family cookbook, which has mysteriously disappeared! Only one man can help. That man is the Gourmet Detective. Returning for his seventh foray into the bizarre nether-regions where haute cuisine meets high crimes and misdemeanors, Peter King's beloved sleuth reluctantly agrees to track down the book. But this decidedly out-of-print classic isn't going to turn up on any remainder shelf! And when he finds its supposed new owner-a used book dealer-stewing in a puddle of his own blood, the Gourmet Detective know that, once again, he's in for more than he bargained for. Soon, he's "kidnapped" by the WITCHES, a mysterious cadre of New Orleans' most ambitious and talented female chefs-and they want the book too. In fact, it seems like everyone does. And getting it will have the sleuth staring down con-artists and book forgers on an old-fashioned paddle boat, careening through the colorful streets of the French Quarter in a mule-drawn carriage, and hunting down leads in the vibrant fishing shanties of Algiers. All of this, while exploring the very contentious differences between the proponents of Creole and Cajun cuisine, and sampling some of the most spicy and succulent treats he's yet encountered: from blackened redfish, fresh from the Gulf and coated in garlic, paprika, cayenne and an assortment of spices, then seared in an extraordinarily hot cast-iron pan . . . to turtle soup, dark, rich, seasoned with onion, oregano, and thyme . . . . to Pheasant Casserole . . . . to Gumbo, catfish, crawfish . . . and that's just a taste! During his first visit to New Orleans, the Gourmet Detective (Spiced to Death) investigates not only Cajun and Creole food but also a missing cookbook. Whimsical and entertaining. Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc. The Gourmet Detective is so laid back he doesn't even have a name: his professional interest in locating odd ingredients and old recipes leads him to New Orleans. He is hired to track down the "chef's book" of the Belvederes, where the classic recipes and cookery notes of the family restaurant were kept, along with a few secrets. The Belvederes want to reopen their restaurant, but they aren't the only people interested. A bevy of WITCHES - Women in the Catering, Hotel, and Eating Services--also corrals the Gourmet Detective. He searches for the chef's book and the murderer of not one but two men connected with it as he eats at each of the WITCHES' restaurants in turn. King doesn't do justice to the rich ambience of New Orleans in this curiously bloodless tale, but the detailed descriptions of ingredients will keep devotees reading. GraceAnne DeCandido Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved Peter King has written short stories, stage plays, radio plays, articles, technical books, travel books and novels. He was born in England, has lived in Brazil, France, Italy, Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York, and currently resides in Sarasota, Florida. As an aerospace scientist, he led the team that designed and built the rocket engines for the Apollo program that put the first man on the moon. This is his seventh Gourmet Detective Mystery. Roux the Day CHAPTER ONE I t was my first visit to New Orleans but I felt I knew it. Unforgettable images of black bands swaying through the street playing jazz music as they followed a funeral were largely responsible. The dazzling and colorful abandon of the Mardi Gras with its spectacular costumes, its nonstop music and its floats that had escaped from the world of fairy tale had to be held accountable, too. Delicately lacey wrought-iron balconies came into my slightly hazy memory, too, though these tended to have elegant ladies with shawls gazing down with casual disdain as they sipped mint juleps. This probably came from an earlier period although the balconies remained.I had lunched in a veritable museum of classic New Orleans cuisine, Arnaud's. The restaurant spreads over an entire city block, twelve buildings all connected by hallways and stairs. It has a true sense of history; one wall in the main dining area was completely covered with photographs from 1918 onward. The only underground wine cellar in New Orleans is here, too. From the street, the leaded windows portray an earlier era, and inside are the potted palms in five-foot-high pots on pedestals, the dark wood panels, the twenty large ceiling fans and the fiftee