Murder with Honey Ham Biscuits

by A. L. Herbert

  She managed to convince Trey to let her use one of his sweet potatoes, which she chopped into cubes and dunked into some boiling water. She has since removed them from the stove and, much like Sherry, is taking advantage of the food processor at her station. We look on as she adds some butter, lemon, and garlic to the pureed potatoes and places the whole shebang in a small pot on the stove to simmer.

  As the Thrifty Three hurry about their work areas Cynthia approaches those of us at the judges’s table and asks us to offer some commentary that they can work in to the final cut of the challenge. Russell and Twyla have television experience, so they offer their remarks with relative ease. I, on the other hand, find myself feeling awkward.

  “I’m curious to see what Vera is doing with the sweet potato she borrowed from Trey,” I say, feeling like I’m sounding lame. “I wonder—”

  Cynthia interrupts me. “What do you think about Sherry using all the cheese? Accident? Or sabotage?” she asks dramatically.

  “I’d like to think it was an accident. I mean we all know that Sherry...” I struggle with how to finish my sentence. Of course, a slew of tired sayings come to mind: Sherry is not the sharpest crayon in the box... dumber than a bag of hammers... all foam no beer. But I certainly don’t want to say that some village is missing its idiot on national television, so I try to choose my words carefully. “We all know that Sherry... well, that Sherry...”

  “What Halia’s tryin’ to say”—Wavonne cackles—“is that the only thing Sherry uses her head for is to hold the weave tracks. So it’s—”

  “That is not what I was trying to say,” I interrupt. “It’s just that Sherry is... She’s more of a... more of a doer than a thinker.” That’s about the best way I could spin Sherry’s intellect. “I believe it’s quite possible that, in the moment, she just forgot that she owed half the cheese to Vera.”

  Cynthia goes on to prod me for more comments. I assume they will intersperse mine and the other judges’ remarks with the footage they are currently gathering of the contestants racing to complete their entries. I come up with some nonsense to say about how I think Trey’s sweet potato-grits soufflé is quite a creative idea, how I hope Vera is able to make the best of a difficult situation, and then I offer a few thoughts about Sherry—how the biscuits she’s preparing are inspired by Sweet Tea’s Salty Sweet Cheese Nips, and how popular they are at the restaurant. Hey, I may as well get a plug in for Sweet Tea where I can.

  “We sell out every weekend,” Wavonne says. This isn’t really true as we don’t actually sell them. They’re complementary as part of our Sunday brunch service, but as Wavonne continues I realize she was just throwing some words out there so she could get on camera. “I know because I’m there... at Sweet Tea every weekend.” She sits up straight and pushes her breasts forward. “Just in case any handsome single men . . . preferably with at least six-figure incomes, want to come by for some... some nips.”

  “Thank you for making my brunch biscuits sound vulgar, Wavonne,” I bemoan, hoping her comment does not make it to air.

  While Wavonne banters a bit more with Cynthia, and I think of how her brash comments and glittery appearance will likely get her more airtime than me (and how I’m perfectly fine with that), the timer hits the one-minute mark.

  “One minute!” Leon calls out, and silence falls over the room as Trey, using pot holders, lifts his hot soufflés onto a large plate, Sherry removes her biscuits from a cookie sheet, and Vera spoons a velvety-looking orange sauce over her bacon-avocado waffle. “Thirty seconds!” he yells as the contestants wipe the edges of dishes and add a little garnish.

  “Ten, nine, eight...”

  The clock finally hits zero, and a loud buzzer goes off.

  “Time’s up!” Leon calls.

  Sherry, Trey, and Vera cease movement and stand like soldiers at attention.

  “Nice work, everyone. You had a tough task... not a lot of time or money to make something to wow our panel of judges,” Leon says. “Trey, you are up first.” Leon motions for Trey to approach our table with his creation. Trey does as he’s directed and lays a serving dish with three ramekins down on the table. They look like desserts you might get at a classic French restaurant.

  “So this was my spin on plain old grits,” Trey says. “As a classically trained French chef, I know a thing or two about soufflés, and I figured grits would lend themselves well to such a creation. But, as we all know, grits are pretty shy on flavor. I figured sweet potatoes would add a light touch of sweetness and give the dish some color. I added garlic and other seasonings, just a touch of hot sauce, and topped it off with a little lemon zest.”

  Leon motions for us to give it a try, so we each take a fork and dig in.

  “Very nice,” says Twyla after taking a bite. “Much like you, with the orange color and sprinkling of lemon zest, it has quite the visual appeal... and it’s light and airy. Really well done.” She gives Trey a long look. “I just want to eat it up,” and your guess is as good as mine as to whether she is referring to the soufflé or to Trey.

  Russell also takes a bite. Watching him eat reminds me that being rich and powerful does have its downside—sometimes people are afraid to tell you things you need to hear. Clearly, no one has had the pluck to tell Russell his hair looks ridiculous, that maybe he should spend some of his millions on dental work... and, evidently, no one has mentioned to him that eating with your mouth open is not a good look for him... or anyone. “I agree,” Russell says, still chewing. “Great presentation, nice texture, and a perfect mix of sweet and savory. Well done.” He says this with little enthusiasm, but given the bright smile that comes across Trey’s face, I’m guessing getting a few complimentary words from Russell, even when delivered in his monotone voice, is a win.

  “I thought it was really lovely, Trey,” I say, glad to be filmed speaking rather than eating. It hadn’t occurred to me how peculiar it would feel to be filmed while trying the entries, but I’m finding it makes me quite self-conscious. “It has an almost velvety quality, and there’s something very decadent about it. It’s flavorful, but no one seasoning is overpowering. And the lemon zest is a really nice touch. I never would have thought of adding that, but it’s a unique taste. Great job!”

  “Thank you,” Trey says, quite pleased with himself, and steps away.

  Leon nods at Sherry, and she walks toward us with a tray of three biscuits, a glass bowl filled with red jelly, and a small dish with a square of what looks like cream cheese on it.

  “So, I need to thank Halia for helping me concoct this take on the classic ham sandwich. I was thinking about making a Monte Carlo... I mean Monte Cristo, but Halia helped me come up with these biscuits and even gave me the idea to chop up the ham to include in the biscuit mix, but it was my idea to use buttermilk to give it some tang. And who doesn’t want a little something to go with their biscuit?” Sherry asks, eying the bowl of jelly. “The pineapple–red pepper jelly was also Halia’s idea—”

  “Ahem!” Wavonne loudly clears her throat into our shared microphone.

  “Oh wait,” Sherry says. “I guess it was Wavonne’s idea, but it was me that thought combining it with some cream cheese would drive the whole thing home.” Sherry steps over to the table, lifts the bowl, and pours the jelly over the square of cream cheese.

  As she steps back, we each take a turn hand-splitting the warm bread, slicing off a wedge of jelly-coated cheese, and spreading it on a biscuit.

  “Oh my! That is divine!” Twyla says after giving Sherry’s creation a taste. “I mean... it’s quite nice.” She purposely lessens her enthusiasm. “It’s good... really, but I’m not sure all the flavors work. I think maybe both the rock sugar crystals on top and the jelly make it a bit too sweet. But still . . . great effort,” she says, and then sends a wink in Trey’s direction.

  “Perfection,” Russell announces, while Twyla proceeds to take another bite of the biscuit she spoke so coolly about just moments ago. “It reminds me of some scones I had
at the Savoy in London, although your biscuit may very well be superior. At some point during my culinary studies I learned that our primal instincts lead us to sweet and salty foods—that a sweet or salty taste meant that food was healthy and nutritious while sour or bitter foods were an indication for avoidance. We are wired to like salty foods... we are wired to like sweet foods. Sherry, I do believe you’ve found the perfect mix of both.” There is an uncharacteristic kindness and maybe even a little excitement in his voice. I guess women who look like Sherry can make men do anything.

  “Very, very nice, Sherry,” I say as the camera pans to me, and I notice, out of the corner of my eye, that Twyla has just shoved the last of her cream cheese and jelly laden biscuit in her mouth. “I’m glad I was able to offer some guidance, but you’re really the one who brought it home. Your biscuit was light and airy. The buttermilk was a nice touch, and the concept for the jelly and cheese spread really worked. Well done!”

  As Sherry smiles, pleased with the feedback she got, Leon motions for her to return to her station, and Vera steps forward with three plates on a serving platter, each holding crisp bacon and avocado slices sandwiched between waffles—the whole thing topped with a silky orange sauce.

  “I’m not sure I want to say or hear the word ‘cheese’ ever again but, as you know, my assignment was to make a grilled cheese with a swank factor. As you also know, my assignment took a bit of a turn when Sherry”—Vera swings her head around, gives Sherry a look, and then returns her gaze to the panel of judges—“breaking an agreement I was kind enough to make with her, used all of my key ingredients. I had planned to infuse my waffle with shredded cheddar, but with no cheese to be had, I was forced to get creative.

  “You might remember that, at one point when I was vocalizing my displeasure with my predicament, I mentioned something about making an apple pie with no apples. This gave me an idea. I thought about how my mother used to make a mock apple pie with crackers instead of apples. I figured if my momma could make a mock apple pie maybe I could make a mock grilled cheese. Then I saw Trey’s stash of sweet potatoes, and my wheels really started turning. I worked at a restaurant years ago where we used to make a vegan nacho sauce with sweet potatoes. I figured I had nothing to lose, so when Trey agreed to give me one of his precious spuds”—Vera looks in Trey’s direction and gives him a thumbs-up—“I whipped up a faux cheese sauce... some mashed sweet potatoes, a little milk, soy sauce, a touch of lemon, and some hot sauce. I hope you like it.”

  My cojudges and I pick up a fork and slice off a portion of Vera’s entrée. We all make sure we get some waffle, avocado, bacon, and sauce on our forks.

  “Hmmm,” Twyla says after swallowing. “It’s... I’m not sure how to describe it,” she adds.

  “The look on her face seems to be describing it just fine,” Wavonne whispers to me.

  “It’s... well, if I’m honest, it’s... it’s... underwhelming. The faux cheese sauce is actually not bad and complements the other flavors, but I’m afraid your waffle is a bit chewy and flat. I’m sorry, dear.”

  “I have to agree with Twyla,” Russell says. “It was a viable recipe and could have worked with the improvised cheese sauce, which is actually quite nice. The bacon and avocado were also pleasant additions, but the waffle... the waffle is definitely subpar . . . rubberlike. This one is not a winner, Vera.”

  Vera’s eyes go from Russell to me, and my heart drops as she awaits my comments. I’m fond of her and have been sort of rooting for her all along. Trey and Sherry are so young, have plenty of time to make their marks, and let’s face it, their youth and good looks will open many doors for them. Vera is older and, while by no means ugly, she’s definitely not a looker—this could be her last chance for a big break. But, much as I like her, I can’t say the same for her waffle, which has a toughness to it. It’s too dense and a little bit soggy.

  I let out a sigh. “Vera.” I say her name, mostly to just stall for time and try to think of some sort of positive opening remark. “I admire your spirit and your can-do attitude. You were thrown a curve ball and you found a way to swing at it, but I’m afraid you missed. It was a valiant effort. Really! The idea was solid, and the flavors worked, but the waffle... the waffle was not good. You didn’t forget to add baking powder, did you?”

  “No. I distinctly remember adding it... a whole tablespoon.”

  “It wasn’t old, was it?”

  “No. I didn’t look at the date, but I just bought it today and...” Vera’s voice trails off, and her eyes veer in Sherry’s direction and then back to the judging table. “Actually, Sherry... Sherry grabbed it for me at the grocery store. I forgot it when I was in the baking aisle. Time was getting tight, and I needed to hit the produce section for my avocados, so Sherry said she’d get it... she suggested that we share that too.” Vera quickly walks back to her station, flips over the can of baking powder, and lets out a long, loud groan before flipping the can so the bottom faces the camera. “It expired two years ago!” she bellows, swinging her head in Sherry’s direction. “You sabotaged me! You totally sabotaged me!”

  There’s rage and disbelief... and maybe confusion in Vera’s eyes—eyes that are fixed on Sherry as an eerie quiet comes over the room.

  “I just grabbed the first can on the shelf,” Sherry finally says, breaking the silence. “I was in a hurry, too. I didn’t have time to look at dates. I used it in my recipe as well. Why would expired baking powder even be on the shelf to begin with? It was an accident!”

  “Another accident?” Leon says to the camera. “Or another ‘accident’?” he adds, doing the air quote thing with his fingers when he says “accident.” “And, if Sherry and Vera used the same expired baking powder, why did Sherry’s entry turn out so tasty while Vera’s fell flat.” He moves his gaze from the camera to the judging table. “Judges: I guess it’s up to you to figure it all out. Did Sherry just make some simple mistakes or was she out to get Vera all along... and does it even matter? Either way, we ask that you decide now who is going home, and who is going to make it to the final round of Elite Chef.”

  I confer with Russell and Twyla, but we don’t chat long. We all seem to agree that, while it was unfortunate that Sherry’s errors (whether accidental or on purpose) affected Vera’s entry, it was Vera’s choice to be trustful and work out a cheese-sharing deal with Sherry. And it was also Vera who did not check the expiration date on one of her key ingredients. And, while her waffle would have been good had she used fresh baking powder, and even better if she’d gotten her share of the cheese, it likely still would not have been as tasty as Trey’s soufflé or Sherry’s biscuits.

  “Have you reached a decision?” Leon asks.

  “Yes,” Russell says.

  “And who is it that will be leaving us this evening?”

  Russell, with no feeling, no hesitation, no perfunctory kind words, simply says, “Vera.”

  “Vera, please step forward,” Leon instructs.

  “You gave it a nice try, Vera,” Russell says, and I think he is actually trying to sound regretful but, honestly, I’m not sure it’s in him. “There is no one at this table that was happy to choose you for elimination, but you, like any chef, have to be ultimately accountable for your food. Your lack of one key ingredient and the expiration of another may have been the result of Sherry’s errors, but chefs have to take responsibility for the decisions they make and the consequences of those decisions. In the end it was your decision to leave tasks to others and not check up on them that made your entry a loser. I’m sorry, Vera. Please hang up your apron and go.”

  RECIPE FROM HALIA’S KITCHEN

  Halia’s Salty Sweet Ham & Cheese Nips

  Ingredients

  6 ounces sliced ham

  1 tablespoon olive oil

  1 tablespoon brown sugar

  2 cups all-purpose flour

  ½ teaspoon salt

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  ½ teaspoon baking soda

  2 teaspoons sug
ar

  ½ cup buttermilk

  ¼ cup sour cream

  ½ cup melted butter (and another ¼ cup melted butter to top baked biscuits)

  ¼ cup water

  1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese

  2 eggs

  1 tablespoon of turbinado sugar

  1 tablespoon coarse sea salt

  • Preheat the oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit.

  • Sprinkle ham with brown sugar and fry on both sides in olive oil until slightly crisp. Chop ham into small pieces.

  • Sift flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and sugar into bowl. Mix on low speed until combined.

  • In another bowl, combine buttermilk, sour cream, butter, and water. Stir the dry ingredients into the wet with a spoon or spatula until well combined.

  • Fold in shredded cheese and chopped ham.

  • Drop dough onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet in ½-cup-size mounds.

  • Beat eggs and, using a brush, lightly coat each biscuit with the egg wash.

  • Sprinkle the tops of the biscuits with equal amounts of turbinado sugar and sea salt.

  • Bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until golden brown.

  • Immediately after removal from the oven, brush each biscuit with melted butter.

  • Serve immediately.

  Chapter 19

  “Champagne,” Wavonne says, helping herself to a glass of bubbly from a silver tray Cynthia is passing around in the concierge lounge at the inn. “Nice.”

  “Thank you.” I take a glass as well.

  “Attention please,” Cynthia calls after passing out all the crystal flutes. “As has become a tradition following each challenge, we’d like to toast the chef leaving us.” She turns to Vera, who is standing next to her. “Vera, your time in the competition may be over, but you’re still definitely a winner. Out of ten contestants you made it to the final three. Everyone involved with the show, on and off camera, enjoyed getting to know you and learning from you. I have no doubt that you will have great success in the culinary world when you leave.” Cynthia looks around at all of us. “Cheers to Vera!”