A Bake Off in Cornwall

by Laura Briggs

  An Eiffel Tower, a cake iced like a valentine card, a couple of wedding cakes, and even miniature cakes that looked like roses and engagement ring boxes followed. And that was before Leeman unveiled his sweetheart cake. Three layers of heart-shaped sponge, each layer a different shade of red or pink, and topped with three sparkly-sugared marzipan roses.

  "An excellent sponge," said Harriet. "And the flavor is very satisfactory. Cherry?"

  "And vanilla," said Leeman, proudly. Pierre said nothing, his fork flattening a bite of the cake as if testing its spring.

  Next up, Jenny's. The cake loaves had been pieced together to form a daisy shape, iced bright pink and decorated with candied cherry bits. It was a 'love cake,' she informed the judges: a special family recipe that was guaranteed addictive. "And it brings everybody love who tastes it, legend says," she claimed.

  Already, Harriet didn't look thrilled by the sight of it. "Such a ... uniform pink," she said, at last. "Perhaps it needs just a bit more of something to give it definition. Don't you agree?" She looked at Pierre.

  Pierre chipped off one of the candied cherries, a curl of contempt briefly evident in his lower lip at the same time. "What is this, this candied fruit you English prefer?" he said. "This kind is so sticky — it is so heavy. It has the — the texture of a piece of leather, no? The fruitcake of the supermarche is so ... I cannot eat it." His fork clattered against the plate as he dropped it in apparent protest.

  "The cake itself is quite nice," said Harriet. "Do taste it, Pierre."

  But the same candied cherries were chopped up inside the sponge, and the French chef declined on the grounds of a sensitive palate. Despite all the social media boastings from before, I felt extremely sorry for Jenny at this moment, who looked crestfallen as the two judges argued heatedly about the virtues and drawbacks of candied fruit.

  Their argument came to an end when Emily's cake was unveiled. A three-tier wedding cake like the ones before, its surface was smooth, perfect fondant over vanilla cream, a scrollwork of frosting creating a collar-like design around each towering layer. Miniature blood red roses surrounded the topmost edges, while a pair of marzipan turtle doves nuzzled each other at the very top.

  Emily sliced the bottom layer. A perfect yellow sponge was inside, with a tiny pink flower-shaped center cut from strawberry cake embedded in it. Harriet proclaimed the sugar work to be the finest she had witnessed in the whole competition. She declared the cake itself 'heavenly' upon tasting it — and even Pierre was charmed by the perfect — and non-burned — second cake embedded in the main sponge.

  "An almost perfect creation," he said. "You have my compliments. C'est a cake magnificent."

  Dinah was last of all. She didn't look nervous as she unfolded the white screen hiding her final sponge. I crossed my fingers one last time as I teetered nervously on my heels just outside the pavilion, behind the production crew filming the event; I felt Gemma seize hold of my arm, anxiously, as Dinah's creation came into view.

  Three layers of sponge iced in ivory white, each tier separated by cake posts almost lost to sight behind blossoms and miniature fruits. Not real ones, but ones crafted from marzipan, fondant, and chocolate, looking so real I almost didn't believe she had made them.

  Red and pink roses with chocolate petals, passion fruits with a blush of red on their pale green skins, brilliant hibiscus blossoms in shades of wine and crimson, white chocolate throats and marzipan stamens flecked with velvety, tinted cocoa powder like red pollen. At the very top, a split pomegranate — its rosy flesh and scarlet seeds of chocolate and seedless raspberry jam as artistically deceptive as the rest of the ornaments. It was surrounded by red fairy roses, passion flowers with soft fringe petals made from colored chocolate in dusky red, and a large Stargazer lily fashioned from painted fondant.

  "Well," said Harriet, after a moment of gazing silently at the cake. "That's quite impressive." She paced from one view to the next, examining it. "I really don't know where to begin."

  "We begin by cutting it," said Pierre. "What is this cake, madame?"

  "Chocolate," said Dinah. A slight tremor made her voice sound slightly different, but otherwise she was calm. "It's red velvet cake and devil's food in alternating layers. Spiced with a little cayenne to add some depth to it. The filling between is preserves made from pomegranate and passion fruit."

  "Pomegranate and passion fruit both?" he said. "With the red pepper? It is too much." He shook his head.

  "I've been very careful," said Dinah, stoutly. "The flavors are balanced, so that the pepper brings a bit of heat and savory to the chocolate, and the fruits bring a bit of sweetness to it."

  Inside, the cake dark chocolate layers contrasted with the deep scarlet ones, a smoky shade of red. Harriet's fork pierced it, lifting a bite to her lips. "And the frosting?" she enquired.

  "White chocolate. With a bit of spice to temper the sweetness."

  Harriet had her first bite. Beside her, with a sigh, Pierre cut away a miniature square with his fork and did the same. My stomach tied itself in knots as I watched. Dinah didn't close her eyes, but I could see her hands clench her apron as she waited.

  Pierre was the first to speak. "I was not wrong," he said, at last. "It is too much. But in the way that passion itself — the very heart of it — may burn with too much also." He cut away a second forkful, and I felt the breath of the pavilion's occupants leave their lungs in collective shock. Was Pierre Dupine taking a second mouthful of something?

  "It is almost like a perfume made with chocolate," said Harriet. "It is very aromatic. Very rich — but not too sweet. You have managed to balance the elements so that the chocolate's bitterness is rich, and outlasts the sweetness of your fruits."

  "A wine of chocolate, perhaps," said Pierre. "It has a bouquet of its own. Congratulations, madame. It is a piece des merveilleuse."

  A little cry escaped Dinah's throat. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Thank you," she said.

  Pierre and Harriet exchanged glances. "We must now retire and make our decision," he said. They laid their forks beside the plate of Dinah's cake.

  It would be close. Really close. But after those words about the 'chocolate perfume' of Dinah's passion cake, I knew that there were only three possibilities in the judges' minds. When the multi-flavored sponges of Leeman's three hearts valentine cake came in third, there were only two possibilities left — Emily and Dinah.

  "In second place, with a total of eighty-eight points ..." said Harriet, "... is Emily Pierce."

  Emily looked pleased and disappointed all at once — Dinah looked as if she was about to faint, even before Harriet finished speaking the all-important words.

  "And in first place, with ninety-one points, is Dinah Barrington."

  ***

  "I was never so afraid of anything as I was those words," said Dinah, with her hand pressed against her chest. "Heavens, I thought my heart might leap out of my chest before I heard the final scores read."

  "I can't believe you won!" said Gemma, who was squeezing Dinah's other hand in a congratulatory death grip. "I mean, I can — but I can't — you know what I mean!"

  "Goodness, you'll turn my finger bones into bits of glass candy if you're not careful," said Dinah, extricating herself from Gemma's unconscious hold. "I'll need that hand come tomorrow, you know." And with that, Dinah was back to her old self.

  "A toast," said Pierre, opening a small glass liquor bottle. "It is sherry from Jerez de la Frontera — to celebrate your gain. I have opened a bottle with every winner, so it is a privilege I will share with you and your friends now also." He filled a row of delicate glasses which shared the dining room's table with the contestants' entries, Dinah's triumphant passion cake as its centerpiece.

  "No French wine?" said Harriet, accepting her glass, and raising one eyebrow. "I thought you would disdain toasting love and passion with anything so removed from your homeland as a Spanish liquor, Pierre."

  "Love makes us all do strange things," he said. "To
passion. To amore. And to the many flavors in which it comes."

  He clinked his own glass against Harriet's, and they both raised the drink to their lips — in that moment, I witnessed a gleam in their exchanged glances that made me think there was a possibility of something more between them than the program's onscreen rivalry of tastes and nationalities.

  Maybe there was something to Jenny Bryce's famous family recipe after all.

  "To Dinah," said Geoff, now raising his own glass in a toast. "Who today proved herself what most of us already knew her to be."

  "Go on with you now," she answered, with a scoff. "It was a narrow squeak. If Emily Pierce had only added a bit of citrus to her sponge, I'd be a happy second place contestant right now."

  "So what comes next?" I asked. "Now that you're the winner of The Grand Baking Extravaganza?" And, for that matter, the substantial prize awarded to each of its victors, something that hadn't occurred to me until now.

  Here was Dinah's chance for an old dream — not necessarily that of being Cliffs House's longest-serving chef. I knew that everybody was thinking the same thing, now that the realization sank into us all that Dinah was the winner.

  "Well," said Dinah. "I don't know. It's a decent heap of quid, I suppose. Enough to do a great many things." She gazed at her glass of sherry, pretending to study its color. "I did think before about having a little bakery someday...not that I want to be disloyal to Cliffs House. You've been quite splendid to me, really," she said to Lady Amanda and Lord William, who were standing among us.

  "And will be whether you go or stay," said Lady Amanda, putting her arm around Dinah's shoulders. "We're simply proud of you. That won't change in the future, whether you're the cook in Cliffs House's kitchen, or a proud businesswoman. Although," she added, "we will miss your marmalade and your saffron biscuits terribly."

  "Quite terribly," added Lord William, with a smile. "But we still wouldn't stop you, if you decide you would be happier elsewhere."

  "Enough talking about people leaving," said Gemma, looking unhappy. "It's bad enough that Pip's gone without Dinah going, too." She took a sip from her glass. "I wish everything would stay the way it is for a little while."

  "Even your being single?" I teased. "No proposal from Andy, or anyone else?"

  Gemma looked slightly taken aback, then blushed. "Well, almost everything," she clarified. "A few changes wouldn't do any harm."

  "I can't believe we're not allowed to tell anybody what's happened," said Lady Amanda, disappointedly. "I would so love to call my parents — and a few friends — and tell them how delightful this has been. Our lips are sealed for five whole weeks."

  "I know," I said. "Isn't it awful?" As soon as Lady Amanda had rejoined Dinah, I knew I would make a discreet move to tell the one person from whom I could never keep secrets....and not the pages of my newly-adopted journal, before you ask. My finger was already itching to press Matt's number on my mobile and tell him the amazing news.

  "I believe that a tasting of the cake is in order for the rest of us," said Lord William. "This is a celebration, isn't it?"

  "Permit me the honor, if you will," said Pierre, who began cutting the sampled layer of the passion cake into narrow slices. "We must save some for tonight's farewell party, of course — but it will do no harm for Ms. Barrington's friends to share its secret in advance."

  As Pierre was speaking, Kitty and Nathan joined the fringes of the celebratory circle, standing apart from each other as the samples of Dinah's cake circulated. A moment later, however, Kitty's fingers stole across to lightly brush against the palm of Nathan's hand. His eyes met hers instantly; in that look they shared was a very different secret from the one behind the desserts being served today.

  Unless, of course, love really is the secret ingredient, and not just in the air.

  Learn more about Book 6 in the series, A Castle in Cornwall, here

  Book 1 in a brand new series of novellas perfect for book lovers!

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