Chapter 9
hef Nancy let everyone have fifteen minutes to chat and get reacquainted. There were a few seconds of awkwardness, and then there were hugs—almost all around. It was okay. Oliver wasn’t a huggy person.
“This way!” Chef Nancy led the group toward a large metal building. As they got closer, two men came out to meet them.
Tate poked Oliver in the arm. “They’re wearing fishing pants! Maybe we’ll go fishing?”
Chef Nancy stopped the group. “Junior chefs, this is Mr. Rumez and Mr. Dumkirk. They are the owners and partners of this farm, and today they’re going to teach us about one of America’s original fruits: the cranberry.”
Mr. Rumez stepped forward. “Please, call me David, and this is Ben. We’re a little new to cranberry farming. We’ve only been here for ten years, but we love it.”
Tate leaned in to Rae. “That’s older than me.”
She smiled. Not liking Tate was impossible!
Ben studied the group. “We’re also kind of new to giving tours. So we’ve come up with two choices. Number one: We can go inside and watch an exciting video about cranberries and then answer your questions. Or number two: You can all put on a pair of these and have some fun!” He pointed to his fishing pants.
“TWO! TWO!” Tate bounced up and down, and then turned to plead with the others. “Can we? Please! Don’t choose the video!”
“Pants!” agreed Oliver.
Caroline and Rae nodded.
“PANTS FOR THE WIN!” Tate high-fived the air.
This was one of the best tours we’ve ever been on. A bog is like a shallow swimming pool, only it’s as big as a field. The cranberries grow on vines at the bottom, and when it’s picking season, they flood the bog with water. A special machine drives through the bog and shakes the vines, and all the cranberries float to the top. Red berries floating on water look amazing.
The special pants are not easy walk in, and they aren’t just pants. They’re rubber boots attached to rubber overalls. It’s like wearing half a space suit. But once you get in the water with them, it’s worth it. It’s easier to move around. It’s a good thing I’ve been doing squats—that helped a lot.
Ben led the group behind the building and down a small path. He pointed to the sunken fields on either side of them. “As you can see, these bogs aren’t flooded with water. It’s too soon in the season—the plants haven’t yet produced their fruit. We’ll flood these in the fall, when the fruit is mature, and then again in December to protect the plants from the cold over winter. But don’t worry—you haven’t missed all the fun. We have something special coming right up.”
“WOW!” Caroline stopped and stared. “It’s beautiful.”
A bog the size of a large swimming pool was filled with water and brightly colored cranberries. David held up a cranberry. “Anyone know why these float?”
Oliver’s hand shot up. “They’re lighter than water!”
“Right!” David broke open the berry and passed it around. “They have small air chambers inside, and because of this, we can harvest the fruit without damaging the plant.”
Ben held up a net. “Now let’s catch some cranberries.”
When it’s harvest time, they use big machines to scoop up the cranberries, but since this was just for fun, we used nets and buckets. David said it wasn’t a race, but Oliver was pretty competitive. He filled up seven buckets. I only got four. My favorite part was just running my hands over the bobbing cranberries.
“HEY!” A cranberry bounced off Rae’s head and plopped into the water. She spun around. Oliver and Tate were across the bog, smirking. Who’d thrown it? If it was Tate, she’d shrug it off, but if it was Oliver . . . well, maybe she’d get mad.
“DO NOT THROW THE CRANBERRIES!” Chef Nancy pointed her finger.
Tate and Oliver instantly tried to look busy. Rae watched them and smiled. Having them here was fun, but still, when they got back to the competition, it’d be different. They’d have to go.
⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅
After the bog, there was a tasting party in the large metal building. There was cranberry juice, dried cranberries, and fresh cranberries.
Caroline took a bite of a fresh red cranberry. “Agh!” She spit it out, then wiped her tongue on her sleeve. “Sorry!” Her face turned a cranberry shade of red.
Ben laughed. “No worries. Fresh cranberries are astringent: sour and bitter. But just add a little sugar and . . .” He handed her a glass of cranberry juice.
Caroline gulped it down, desperate to get rid of the nasty flavor. She nodded. “So much better.”
The tour was a good way to get back into the group, but things definitely feel different. Especially on the way home. Tate and I sat in the back of the van and Caroline and Rae hardly even talked to us. Not that I cared—it was good to have the extra time to think of cranberry recipes. Whatever we’re going to be making, I want to be prepared.
Chapter 10
bout time!” Steve rushed to the van as soon as it pulled into the Porter Lodge parking lot. “Chef Gary and Chef Aimee are waiting.”
Steve led the group, shouting orders all the way to the filming studio. “Now go to the front. Behind the table. Face the judges. Side by side.”
Rae rolled her eyes. “Like we haven’t done this a million times before.”
Caroline nodded. “I know.”
“ROLLING.”
“Welcome back from your field trip.” Chef Gary surveyed the group. “This is an important challenge. We could end up with two, or maybe even three contestants for the final run to the finish line. I know you’re all anxious to get started, so let’s do it. Cranberries!” He held up a fresh red cranberry. “Many people only eat these once a year, and that special occasion is . . .” He raised his eyebrows.
“Thanksgiving!”
“Right. So, in the spirit of that very special day, your challenge is to create an innovative cranberry sauce. You’ll have a total of eighteen minutes for this challenge. Five minutes in the pantry and thirteen minutes to prepare the sauce. We’re going to start the pantry run right here, right now. Are you ready?”
“YES, CHEF!”
He raised his hand. “Your time in the pantry starts . . . NOW!”
“What to make? What to make?” Rae ran to the pantry, trying to decide. She’d had all sorts of ideas on the way back from the field trip, but now she had to pick one. She grabbed the red wine vinegar and dropped it into her basket. Decision made!
The cameras followed the junior chefs. They filmed Oliver grabbing fennel and onions, Tate picking up brown sugar and oranges, and Caroline choosing spices. Their last shot was of Rae running back to get soy sauce.
“TIME.”
The junior chefs raced back to their workstations.
“LET’S GET COOKING!”
Rae unpacked her basket and looked around—no one was rushing. This challenge was easy—too easy. Anybody could make cranberry sauce. That meant one thing: a twist or trick was right around the corner. She added chili sauce, soy sauce, red wine vinegar, and red peppers to her pot, stirred it together, and dropped in the cranberries. Ten minutes later they were popping, releasing their tasty juices into the sauce. Three minutes after that, it was all over.
“TIME!”
Eight hands rose into the air. When time was called, the junior chefs had to drop everything and hold up their hands—even if they weren’t finished.
Rae snuck a peek at Oliver. Here to stay or gone for good? And what about . . .
Chef Gary’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Please, bring your sauces up front. There are four numbers on the table. Set your bowl down on one of the numbers.”
A shiver ran down Caroline’s spine. It wasn’t over!
“Knew it!” Rae set her bowl down on number four.
Chef Aimee held up a red bag. “You’ll each pick a number from this bag and then go stand behind the dish on that number. If you pick your own number, you will choose again. Let’s get st
arted.”
I should have known the judges would do something sneaky. I forgot to expect the unexpected. I got number three. That’s Oliver’s cranberry sauce. It’s pretty basic: fennel, onion, thyme, olive oil, and cranberries. Mine was much more flavorful and interesting.
Rae had Tate’s sauce with its flavors of brown sugar and orange rind; Oliver had Rae’s sauce with its soy sauce and red peppers; and Tate had Caroline’s sauce with its bold accents of ginger and cumin.
THUMP! Chef Gary banged his hand on the table. “This challenge—as you may have guessed—is not yet over. That was just part one. Are you ready for part two?”
“YES, CHEF!”
“For the second part of this challenge, you’ll have forty-five minutes to create an innovative appetizer using the cranberry sauce in front of you. You’ll have five minutes to plan, five minutes in the pantry, and thirty-five minutes of cooking time. Ready?”
“YES, CHEF.”
“CUT.”
⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅
Rae carried Tate’s sauce back to her workstation. She took a spoon and tasted it: spicy, tangy, and sweet. There were five minutes to decide what to make.
Caroline tasted Oliver’s sauce twice to be sure. Had he lost his touch? She could make whatever she wanted; his dull flavors weren’t going to make a difference.
Tate started on a list of ingredients. He was going to make good into great and he already had an idea: fish cakes with a spicy apple cranberry relish. He’d thought of it instantly.
I’m lucky we got this redo. I missed picking up two of my ingredients, ginger and serrano peppers, in the first pantry run, so it wasn’t my best effort. This is going to be different. I have a solid idea, and Rae’s cranberry sauce is going to work perfectly. I’m going to incorporate Rae’s sauce into the actual appetizer. I’m making glazed cranberry meatballs.
Chapter 11
hef Nancy visited the junior chefs before the pantry run.
Rae had a question about spring roll wraps.
“Make sure your oil is heated to three hundred and twenty-five degrees before placing the rolls in the pan.”
Tate had a question about fish.
“Both haddock and cod are good choices.”
Caroline had a question about walnuts.
“Pre-toasting them is an excellent idea for a pie crust.”
Oliver didn’t want to talk. “Thank you, Chef Nancy, but I’ve got this under control.” Chef Nancy moved to the side of the studio.
“ROLLING!”
A minute later, the cameras were following the junior chefs into the pantry again. They zoomed in for a close-up of Oliver’s hand reaching for fresh ginger, Rae picking out mushrooms, Caroline choosing Gorgonzola, and Tate’s feet moving faster than anyone had seen them move before.
“TIME!”
Rae smiled as she unpacked her basket and waited for the signal to start. This was more like it. The room was filled with energy.
“LET’S GET COOKING!”
Caroline grabbed a large frying pan, dumped in a single layer of walnuts, and turned on the heat. In five minutes, those walnuts would be toasty brown. She pulled out the food processor and started on the pie crust. If she was going to be finished in thirty-five minutes, she couldn’t do one thing at a time—it had to be double-duty.
Tate rinsed the haddock fillet, patted it dry with a paper towel, sliced it into quarters, wrapped it in foil, and put it into the oven. Small pieces cooked faster, and he needed all the speed he could get. He grabbed two potatoes, quartered them, put them into a pot of water, and turned on the burner. Next, he got to work on his relish. Once everything was cooking, he’d feel better. The clock was not going to be his friend.
Chef Gary arrived just as he was dicing apples. “Wow, good knife skills.”
“Thank you, Chef. I’m working on a relish.” He grabbed a knob of ginger, peeled it, and then expertly began mincing.
“Keep it up!”
Rae was doing double-duty too, frying chicken and trying to chop vegetables at the same time.
She stopped when she saw Chef Gary. “Normally I’d bake the chicken in the oven, but there isn’t time, so I’m frying it. It’s faster.” She picked up a stalk of celery and started chopping.
Chef Gary pointed to the frying pan. “You might want to check on that.”
Rae grabbed a spatula and flipped the chicken over. A minute more and it might have burned.
Chef Gary came to visit me right when I was mixing up the ingredients for my meatballs. Everyone else was running around like chickens with their heads cut off, but not me. I was calm and confident. Chef Gary noticed right away. My dish takes thirty-five minutes to make. I’m not trying to stuff fifty minutes of prep time into a thirty-five-minute time slot. I’m respectful of food and time.
Chef Gary closed his eyes and breathed deep. Caroline was caramelizing fennel, onion, and thyme. “I do love fennel and onions.”
Caroline nodded and added balsamic vinegar to Oliver’s cranberry sauce and turned off the heat.
“Almost done?”
“No.” She bent down, pulled a mini pie crust from the oven, and set it on a rack to cool. Her hands were shaking. “This still has to go back into the oven once I add the filling.”
“FIFTEEN MINUTES.”
Caroline groaned. Would she even make it?
Chef Gary tapped the table. “Come on, Caroline, concentrate! Keep going!”
She nodded and turned back to the stove. Was there time to let the pie crust cool? No, she had to get the filling in there as soon as possible.
“TEN MINUTES.”
Caroline peered into the oven, Tate dropped his fish cake into a sizzling frying pan, Rae poured oil into her wok, and Oliver stirred his meatballs in a spicy cranberry glaze.
“FIVE MINUTES!”
Chef Gary clapped his hands. “Let’s get plating!”
Oliver arranged purple and green slaw in the middle of his plate, drizzled a zigzag of thinned cranberry sauce on top, and then lined up three glazed meatballs in the center. He finished by decoratively sprinkling the plate with slivers of orange peel and minced scallions.
Caroline set her mini pie on the plate. It was still hot. Hopefully she wouldn’t be called first. It needed time to set. She garnished the plate with a sage leaf and whole toasted walnuts.
Rae grabbed a large romaine leaf and pushed it flat against the plate. This wasn’t her first choice for plating, but it would hide the bottom of her spring rolls. They’d stuck to the pan and broken apart. She put two rolls on the leaf and stacked a third on top, then added a mini ramekin of the cranberry sriracha dipping sauce to the side and sprinkled minced parsley and pickled ginger on top.
Tate placed his fish cake in the middle of a large plate and arranged the apple cranberry relish around it like a moat. He stepped back. “Done!”
“TIME!”
Eight hands shot into the air.
“CUT!”
Chapter 12
ae eyed Caroline’s plate as the cameras moved in for the close-ups. It looked good. Hopefully it tasted good too. Her broken spring rolls wouldn’t win, but maybe Caroline had a chance. She crossed her fingers and made a wish. Please let Caroline win. Send Oliver and Tate home.
Steve waved his hands. “PLACES, EVERYONE! LET’S GO!”
They rushed back to their workstations.
“ROLLING!”
Chef Gary rested his hands on the long table. “Well, that was exciting. This room was buzzing with energy.”
“And everyone was busy, busy, busy,” added Chef Aimee. “I can’t wait to taste these creations. Let’s start with . . . Caroline. Can you please bring your plate to the table and tell us what you’ve made?”
Caroline walked nervously to the front and set her dish down. “I made a cranberry Gorgonzola tart with a toasted walnut crust.”
“Oooh, it looks wonderful.” Chef Aimee motioned for Chef Nancy to join them. She handed out forks and then started to cut into th
e pie. The filling oozed out onto the plate. “Goodness, is this set?” She pulled the knife out. “Caroline, is there a chance this isn’t fully cooked?”
Caroline’s face flushed. “Maybe, but it’s mostly cooked. It probably only needed five more minutes.”
Chef Gary pushed the plate to the side. “I’m sorry, Caroline. You can’t expect us to eat uncooked eggs. However, on the plus side, your presentation was very nice.”
“Thank you, Chef.” Caroline felt sick to her stomach. But she wasn’t the only one. Rae felt it too. She looked from Tate to Oliver, then back to Oliver again. Who would be staying? She crossed her fingers and made a new wish.
Tate was next. He carried his plate to the front, grinning all the way. “I made Indian-spiced fish cakes with an apple cranberry relish.”
Chef Aimee stared at the plate. “Not the most innovative plating, but let’s taste it.”
“Mmm, nice layer of flavors.”
“This sweet relish is wonderful with the fish.”
“I agree.” Chef Gary took another bite. “This relish is delicious. Well done, Tate. Tell us, how did you change Caroline’s cranberry sauce?”
Tate shuffled uncomfortably. “I . . . uh . . . added apples.”
“That’s it?” Chef Gary looked confused.
“Well, I was going to add more, but there wasn’t time.”
The Winner Is . . . Page 3
