Happy with what he had made, Hutch rubbed his hands in the apron. The Saltimbocca alla Romana would be the perfect surprise for Starsky after his last physical therapy.

Delicious smells filled Starsky’s kitchen, and Hutch added spice to taste when the door flung open.

“Hey, somebody’s cooking here…” Starsky stepped behind Hutch and rested his head on his partner’s shoulders, peeking into the casserole on the counter.

“Get seated, dinner is ready.” Hutch turned, his head touching Starsky’s. “How was your therapy?”

“Don’t ask.” Starsky sighed. He reached around Hutch and grabbed a spoon.

“It’s Saltimbocca, that means, it jumps into your mouth,” Hutch explained.

“I can't wait to taste it!" Starsky said, taking a big spoonful of the hot veal.

“Arghhhh!” Starsky spat the mouthful back into the casserole.

“What’s wrong?” Stunned, Hutch took a bite – and choked. “That is awful!”

“Yeah, what the hell did you put in it?” Starsky shuddered.

Hutch shook his head in disbelief. “I added some paprika to make it more spicy.”

“You didn’t use the cinnamon Mom sent last Christmas, did you?” Starsky pointed at the little container with the red contents.

Laughing tears, Starsky hissed out, “What’s the opposite of Saltimbocca?”

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