by Kate Forster
‘The soufflés will be made at the same time. They will be taken into the judge’s room by us, and the tasting will be done. The decision will be made. And the winner of the soufflé competition will be announced.’
Christa took a quick breath in and then let it out slowly, trying to calm her nerves.
Marc wasn’t in the room. He was sitting alone in the dining room, at the insistence of the boys, who said he needed to be far away so he couldn’t cheat.
‘The judge will choose his favourite dish and only then will we discover whose is whose,’ said Seth, reading from the paper of rules that Adam had helped him write.
‘Is there a prize?’ asked Ethan and Christa saw Avian and Simon glance at each other.
‘We will decide that after,’ said Avian, sneering at Christa.
‘The soufflés will be served on the same plates so there will be no disting, disting, disting…’
‘Distinguishing,’ prompted Adam.
‘Between the dishes.’
Seth turned to Christa and Simon.
‘Chefs, your ovens have been heating, so you may now start your soufflés.’
Christa went to work.
First she buttered the soufflé dish with the cultured butter that Peggy had found from a farmer nearby. Then she sugared the inside of the dish, making sure she didn’t miss a single part of the china, knowing the best rise came from a complete coverage of sugar.
Putting the dish aside, she started chopping up the dark chocolate she had found in Petey’s kitchen.
He told her he had the best bittersweet chocolate and he was right. She took a block of Belgian but he gave her another. ‘Just in case,’ he said. ‘Not that you will need it but you will feel safer.’
He was right: she did feel safer with the extra block.
She chopped up the chocolate as fine as she could, wanting it to melt smoothly and at the same time.
She saw Simon tipping his dark chocolate buttons into the double boiler saucepan and putting the water on to simmer.
You wouldn’t get the same melt with buttons, she thought but she wasn’t about to tell him he was making his first mistake.
While the water was simmering, she separated her egg yolks and stood them aside with the whites.
Simon was now melting his chocolate buttons while Christa waited for the water to be at a gentle simmer and then she gently poured the chocolate into the top of the saucepan, sitting over the water. She stirred continuously, while she noticed Simon letting it sit for a moment, separating an egg and then stepping back and vigorously stirring the chocolate again, breaking down the lumps.
If she was supervising him as an apprentice, she would have told him to throw it all out and start again.
Focus, Christa, she told herself. Put into the soufflé everything you feel and love.
She stirred slowly, coaxing the chocolate into a smooth stream, watching it dissolve with each turn of the spoon.
She thought about Marc and the boys. She thought about when Marc’s hand held hers or when the boys told her she looked pretty in her woollen hat. She thought about Petey and Peggy and their friendship and she thought about the old pub. Even though that hadn’t become hers, everything else was beautiful and special. Whatever happened with Marc, she knew she would stay in York now. It felt like home more than London ever had.
After taking the saucepan off the heat, she let the chocolate cool slightly while she put cream of tartar into the egg whites and then turned on her beaters. As the soft peaks began to form she put in a tablespoon of sugar as she beat the mixture, and then rested it for a moment.
Then she went back to the chocolate and tipped in the eggs yolks and salt and whisked them together.
‘All okay, Christa? Need a hand?’ asked Simon and she resisted the urge to throw an egg at him.
‘Fine, thanks,’ she said. ‘I hope you have your bags packed already.’
Simon laughed as though she had just told the greatest joke in the world.
‘I should pretend I’m on the show already, shouldn’t I? I could talk my way through what I’m doing for you all.’
‘Please don’t,’ said Christa. ‘You voice will make my egg whites drop.’
Christa heard Paul laugh but she ignored it and Simon went back to whipping his eggs whites.
When the sugar was dissolved in the egg whites, she then brought the chocolate to the bench. She whisked in some of the egg whites to lighten the mixture and then gently folded in the remaining egg whites. Light touch, light touch, she thought as she remembered the times Marc had held her hand, touched her arm, the looks she saw him giving her when he thought she didn’t notice.
She then carefully put the mixture into the prepared dish and expertly ran her thumb around the inside of the dish to create a small space between the soufflé and the dish.
‘Ready?’ she asked Simon who was now pouring his mixture into his dish.
‘Any moment,’ he said and she turned down her oven to the baking temperature she needed for such a delicate dish.
She opened the oven and took the baking sheet from the floor of the oven that she had placed there earlier and put the soufflé onto a baking tray, as did Simon.
And then she slid it into the oven, and closed the door.
‘Twenty-five to thirty-five minutes,’ he announced to the kitchen.
Christa suddenly felt sick. She wasn’t sure if it was the close proximity to Simon’s ego or the nerves she felt.
‘I need to go outside,’ she said. ‘I need air.’ She pushed past Simon and out the back door.
The boys and Paul and Adam rushed out behind her. ‘Do you need a doctor?’ asked Adam, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
‘No, I just need air,’ she said and sat in the cold, on the bench by the back door.
‘I’ll get you some water,’ said Paul.
‘It’s okay, I promise,’ Christa said, as the boys sat on either side of her.
‘It’s cold out here – go inside,’ she said to them but Seth took her hand and Ethan the other one.
‘Do you want some Skittles?’ whispered Ethan, pulling out a packet and shaking them at Christa.
‘Your mum better not see those,’ she said.
‘Peggy got them for me,’ whispered Ethan. ‘She lets me have things, just like you do.’
Christa pulled him to her in a little hug.
‘Thank you, Ethan,’ she said.
‘Boys, come inside,’ she heard Avian say as she tapped on the window behind them.
Reluctantly the boys stood up. Christa felt the packet of Skittles being put into her hand and Ethan looked her in the eye.
‘Take one every fifteen minutes, and you will feel better soon, I promise.’
27
Marc sat alone at the dining room table. He felt stupid and nervous. This idea of Simon’s was ridiculous. But he knew Christa would win. Simon was one of those men who thought near enough was good enough, and he was sure that Simon wouldn’t put in the same hard work that Christa brought to everything she did.
He had watched her and the boys work on the gingerbread house of Pudding Hall, meticulously icing all the window frames and the front door and then individually icing the slate roof, each slate shingle outlined and then filled in one by one. He wasn’t sure how much he and the boys had helped but she was encouraging of them all.
Hi phone rang and he answered it.
‘Marc Ferrier,’ he said, not recognising the phone number.
‘Hi, Marc, it’s Trent Blake from The Hollywood Reporter.’
‘Okay?’ he asked carefully. He and Adam were trying hard to keep their takeover of the streaming service quiet until the sale had gone through.
‘I heard that your ex-wife and producer of Blind Baking has sold her show to Netflix, will this affect the deal for Cirrus?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said and hung up the phone. He called Adam from his phone.
‘We need to talk,’ he
said and he soon heard Adam coming into the dining room.
‘Shut the door,’ he said.
‘How’s Christa going?’ he asked, not being able to help himself.
‘She’s okay, had a little turn and we had to take her outside.’
Marc stood up. ‘I need to see her. Did you call a doctor?’
‘She doesn’t want one, just said it was the masculine toxicity from Simon’s ego that was upsetting her balance.’
Adam smiled and Marc felt somewhat better.
‘I just had a call from The Hollywood Reporter. They said that Avian has sold the show to Netflix. If that’s true, Cirrus will lose most of its value.’
Adam sat down. ‘Shit? Really? I thought she had signed. She said she had signed.’
‘I need you to look into this, because if we lose Blind Baking, we lose a huge drawcard for onsell.’
Adam was already tapping on his phone. ‘Let me send some emails and make some calls.’
*
Christa couldn’t understand it. She had done everything perfectly for the soufflé but the rise wasn’t there. It smelled okay but didn’t have the same richness that Simon’s was emanating when they had taken them from the oven.
‘Look at that,’ said Simon proudly as he carefully took the dish from the oven.
Christa followed suit and nearly cried at her soufflé. She had put everything into it and this was all she could manage. It was okay, it was passable but it wasn’t anything like she had expected.
‘I hope your bags are packed,’ Simon sang as he dusted the dish with icing sugar and put a small bowl of cream on the side.
Christa felt tears prick her eyes as she dusted hers with sugar and put some cream on the side. The dishes were moved to serving plates and the twins stepped forward to take them to Marc.
‘Off you go, boys,’ said Avian, looking smug.
Christa leaned against the bench and sighed.
This was the worst soufflé she had ever made and she simply couldn’t understand it at all.
She had cooked with love, with the best ingredients and had been detailed in every way in her technique and measurements and she had a soufflé that wasn’t half of what Simon had produced.
She untied her apron and put it on the counter.
‘You off to pack?’ asked Simon and she turned to him. ‘Wasn’t one of your finest ones,’ he said.
She looked at him, wondering what she had ever seen in him.
‘Oh bite your bum, Simon,’ she said and she went upstairs to pack.
*
The knock at the door came and Adam opened it for the twins who were standing solemnly with their plates.
Each one with a soufflé and cream and the name of the twin carrying it was written on a piece of paper in their handwriting, taped to the plate.
‘Come in,’ Adam said and Marc watched them carefully carry the dishes to his side.
‘We can’t tell you whose is whose,’ said Seth.
‘I know,’ said Marc. ‘You can go now.’ He smiled at the boys as they left the room.
He looked at the dishes. One was considerably taller than the other and the scent was delicious.
That was definitely Christa’s he thought. He tasted it and then took another bite. And then another.
‘Don’t eat all of it – you will feel sick,’ reprimanded Adam.
‘This is seriously good.’ He gestured to the soufflé. ‘Do you know who cooked which one?’ he asked but Adam shook his head.
‘I didn’t see them come out of the oven,’ he said. ‘And I wouldn’t tell you anyway. It’s attorney-client privilege.’
‘She’s not your client,’ said Marc.
Adam tilted his head and raised his eyebrow. ‘She might be if she murders Simon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone loathe someone the way she loathes him.’
Marc took a spoonful of the other soufflé. It was okay but not amazing. He tried the other one again and then one more spoonful of the smaller one.
‘My decision is made,’ he said and he pushed back the chair.
‘Should I call the contestants?’ he asked Adam, unsure what the protocol for this situation was.
‘I’ll ask them,’ he said.
Marc walked out into the foyer of the house and saw the tree, the light hitting the deer family that Christa had placed proudly on the branch.
He saw some red and green wrapped packages under the tree. He bent down and saw the gift tags.
To Marc, Merry Christmas from Christa. One for Seth, Ethan, Adam and Paul and even Peggy and Bill and Meredith. When did she put these here?
He heard voices and Simon and Avian came from the kitchen, laughing and kissing like teenagers.
Christa was standing at the top of the stairs, her bags by her side.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked her as Adam and Paul came to the foyer.
‘I’m leaving. My soufflé was a failure,’ she said and he heard her voice break.
‘No, yours was amazing. I chose yours,’ he said looking up at her. ‘I would know your cooking from anyone’s. You cook from the heart.’
‘Which twin’s name was on your plate, Christa?’ asked Simon but Christa was already walking down the stairs.
Marc looked at Adam to do something but he threw his hands up in surrender. He clearly didn’t know what to do any more than Marc did.
Christa was lugging her suitcase and another travel bag with her, and she dropped them with a thud on the floor when she came to the bottom of the staircase.
‘I just need to get my knives and a few things that are mine from the kitchen and I will go,’ she said to Marc.
‘But, Christa, I chose yours,’ he said, wishing he could just hold her and have the rest of the watchers leave them alone.
‘You didn’t. You chose the one with Seth’s name, didn’t you?’ Her eyes searched his face and she saw the truth.
‘Yes,’
Simon jumped up and down, doing fist pumps into the air. ‘Yes, yes, winner. I’m the winner,’ he hissed at Christa and then tried give a high five to Avian who, to her credit looked embarrassed by her boyfriend.
‘Shut the hell up,’ Marc said to Simon.
Christa walked to the kitchen and Marc followed her.
‘You don’t have to leave. I don’t want you to go. It was a stupid deal made by Simon – you don’t have to follow it.’
Christa turned to him, her eyes streaming tears.
‘I made the deal. I agreed to leave, just as he did.’
‘You don’t have to go,’ he pleaded but she shook her head angrily.
‘I do. I agreed with Simon and besides, I can’t deal with him anymore. You don’t think he will lord this over me like some psychopath? He will, trust me. He’s horrific and abusive in his small pathetic way. And if I stay, then Avian leaves and the boys don’t get to see her for Christmas. I can’t do that to them.’
She went to the bench, collected her knives, pulled out a leather roll and put them each in their place and then rolled and tied it up.
‘Avian won’t leave. I’ll talk to her,’ he said.
Christa stopped looking through cupboards and looked at him.
‘I don’t want you to talk to her. I want to be as far away from her as I can. She’s as bad as him.’
Marc was silent. He had let Avian get away with so much during and after their marriage because it was easier than asking her to be a better parent when he knew he was also found wanting.
Christa had small crepe pan and her knives in her hands.
‘That’s me then,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about the balance of the money. I don’t want it.’
She walked out of the kitchen to the foyer where Marc followed and saw everyone standing looking upset except for Simon. Even Avian looked concerned but probably because she knew that Marc would be furious, he thought.
‘Boys, I have something under the tree for you but you can’t open it until Christmas morning, okay?’ Christa said.
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Seth’s lip trembled as Ethan openly started to cry.
‘But we haven’t finished the gingerbread house,’ Seth said.
‘Your dad can help; he’s a dab hand at it now,’ Christa said and she hugged the boys and then stood up.
‘Paul or Adam, do you mind helping me with my bags?’
Marc rushed forward but she waved him away.
‘Thanks but Adam has it,’ she said and she turned to Avian and Simon.
‘Merry Christmas. Well done on the win, Simon. I guess you were the better cook all along. Thank you for teaching me this lesson. I needed to remember some humility.’
And then she was gone, out the front door and into the cold.
‘At least she finally saw the truth,’ said Simon to the room and Marc simply couldn’t help himself; he turned and punched him as hard as he could, sending Simon flying into the Christmas tree. The decorations scattered and smashed across the marble floor.
‘Now you’ve ruined Christmas,’ Seth yelled at his parents.
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Avian with her arms crossed. ‘I had nothing to do with any of this.’
‘You’re both douches,’ screamed Ethan.
‘Bite your bums,’ added Seth, his face red with fury and the boys ran outside as Marc heard Christa’s car speed down the driveway away from Pudding Hall.
Christa’s Chocolate Soufflé Recipe
Ingredients
½ cup/114g/4oz unsalted butter softened, plus more for coating dish
4 tablespoons/50g/1¾ oz granulated sugar, plus more for coating dish
225g/8oz bittersweet chocolate (60 to 65 per cent cacao), finely chopped
6 eggs, separated, at room temperature
Pinch fine sea salt
½ teaspoon cream of tartar
Method
Remove wire racks from oven and place a baking sheet directly on oven floor. Heat oven to 400ºC (390ºF). Generously butter a 1-litre or 6-cup soufflé dish. Coat bottom and sides thoroughly with sugar, tapping out excess. For the best rise, make sure there is sugar covering all the butter on the sides of the dish.
In a medium bowl, melt chocolate and butter either in the microwave or in a bowl over a pot of simmering water. Let cool only slightly (it should still be warm), then whisk in egg yolks and salt.
