“Girls verse guys!” she cried out.
“That’s right,” said Tim. We all began to hoot and applaud. Everyone loved a good battle of the sexes. It made for fun television and it gave us natural teams for the competition. “But we have an even bigger surprise for you.”
“Chefs!” called Pema. “Come on out.”
From a large door at the front of the event space, the same door we had walked in only 20 minutes prior, came all the previously eliminated chefs from the season. The 6 of us went wild. It was so much fun to see everybody back in the same room. The chefs were all smiling, themselves clapping and excited, and as you can imagine I eagerly sought out Raina. She had a demure smile across her lips as she walked in, almost blending into the background of the other, more outgoing chefs in the group.
The eliminated chefs lined up a few yards off from us, single file, standing in waiting as they had obviously been instructed. After the excitement had died down, everyone’s attention returned to our hosts.
“I’m sure it’s nice to see your friends again,” said Pema. “I want you to take a good look at all them because each team for Unruly Restaurant is going to get to choose one of their eliminated compatriots to join up with their team and help them in this challenge.”
We all applauded. It was great. And you can imagine who I was bent on picking.
“Chefs,” said Tim, addressing us. “Why don’t you huddle up in your teams, men verse women, and quickly discuss who you’d like to pick.”
Maggie, Tina, and I speedily formed a circle and tried to block out the guys who were standing just a few feet away, doing the exact same as us.
“I think this is a bit of a no brainer,” whispered Maggie.
“Raina,” I said with a happy grin.
“Yep,” said Tina. “She’s our ticket to a win.”
“I don’t think the guys stand a chance,” said Maggie. “They know we’re picking Raina and they’re scared.”
The three of us looked over to the men huddling near us and laughed.
“We got this,” said Tina.
“All right, chefs,” said Tim. “Let’s hear your picks. We’ll start with the men.”
“We’re going to pick Mike,” said Richard. Mike pumped his first in the air and walked over toward the guys, the four of them high-fiving each other and generally being dudes.
“Excellent,” said Tim. “And now the women.”
“We choose Raina,” said Maggie. Raina looked almost surprised that she was picked, then looked down to her feet with a bit of bashfulness before she slowly sauntered over toward us.
“I think that was expected,” said Pema.
“With Raina back,” said Tim. “I think the women are going to be tough to beat. Guys, are you scared?”
“No way,” said Jason. He gave Mike a high five.
“You should be,” said Tim. “Raina, what do you think of your team’s chances for Unruly Restaurant?”
Raina looked at all of us and smiled. She couldn’t help it. I knew she still had a softness in her heart for me. I knew that she wanted to love me.
“I’m going to do my best to help the girls win,” said Raina. The other 3 of us hooted and cried out.
“Raina and Mike,” began Pema. “Your job on each of your teams is to do whatever is needed of you. Please just follow instructions and help make your teammates’ dishes shine.”
“And chefs,” said Tim. “Please don’t abuse your fallen comrades.” We all laughed.
“You’ll have one hour to begin planning your restaurant theme and your menu. Teams, you’ll be providing dinner service for 100 hungry people, including us judges. So please make sure you have your roles defined clearly and that you don’t make any expediting mistakes.”
“I know you’ve all seen the show before,” said Tim. “Learn from what you’ve watched. Unruly Restaurant is a difficult challenge.”
“After you meet and discuss your restaurant,” said Pema. “Two from each team will head to the restaurant supply store while the other two will go to Whole Fare Market to purchase the ingredients for your dishes. Make sure to plan accordingly.”
“And remember,” said Tim. “There is no more immunity in the competition. Any one of you could be up for elimination.”
“Get ready, chefs,” said Pema. “Your time starts… now!”
With that, the 4 of us quickly broke up from the group and sped over to a table provided to us. We all sat down and Maggie took up the pen and pad of paper that lay in the center of the table.
“All right, ladies,” said Maggie. “Let’s do this. What kind of theme should we have? Any ideas?”
Raina sat there quietly, an even expression on her lips. I caught her giving me a glance every so often.
“I say we do classic French,” said Tina. “With a modern twist. Emily does French every day, I’m trained in French.”
“I think I can do French,” said Maggie. “We know that Raina has amazing knife skills. What’s the modern twist?”
“How about French fast casual?” I said. “We’ll keep certain elements of French fine dining classics but we’ll let their hair down.”
“Great idea,” said Maggie. “We’ll take some of the froufrou-ness out of French fine dining, make it less intimidating.”
“So what do we call it?” I said. Maggie was scribbling all of this down into her notebook.
“How about Non Froufrou?” said Raina in a low voice.
“That’s good!” said Tina, pointing at Raina. “I like it.”
“Perfect,” said Maggie. “This is easy.”
As Maggie and Tina began to talk about their potential dishes, Raina caught me looking at her and the two of us remained locked in a mellow stare for a few expectant moments. This felt like a second chance to me, even though I’d done nothing wrong with my first one. I offered Raina a smile and after a few seconds of accepting it, she looked away.
“What about you, Emily?” asked Maggie. I had totally missed what they were talking about.
“What?” I said. “I’m sorry. Brain fart.”
“We need a main,” said Tina. “Maggie’s doing desert, beignet fritters, and front of the house since the rest of us are stronger in French. I’m doing an app. You run a French restaurant. What do you think?”
“Oh,” I said, taking it all in, considering Tina’s outline. “What’s your app?”
“Moules marinières mussels,” said Tina. “White wine broth, shallots, parsley. But rustic and easy. We’ll make our own baguette.”
“Good,” I said. “Maybe we should do steak tartare as well,” I said, offhandedly. “That’ll be easy to casual-down, everybody loves it, give the guests a choice between the tartare and the mussels.”
“Perfect,” said Maggie, writing it down.
“Onions and capers for the tartare,” I mused. “And I’ll do duck confit. With duck fat fried potatoes. Should we do two mains?”
“Wow,” said Tina. “Crazy, but yes… we’ll let the diners choose their app and main. I mean, we could do this no sweat.”
“Then lamb,” I said. “I bet the judges will expect beef for a main but we’ll do lighter proteins. Let’s do braised lamb chops.”
“Damn,” said Maggie, looking over her notes. “Girls, I think this is a killer menu.”
“Raina, are you on board with all this?” asked Tina.
“Sure!” said Raina with an accepting shrug. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“Okay,” said Maggie. “How about Raina and Emily go to Whole Fare to get the ingredients, and me and Tina will work on the decor?”
“Fine with me,” said Tina. “Ladies?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking to Raina with a bit of trepidation. “I’m down.”
“All right,” said Raina softly.
“This is gonna be so sweet,” said Maggie. “I’m really excited for this win. I can’t believe we’re at Unruly Restaurant!”
After a few more words to pump us
all up, we split up to begin our assigned tasks. Raina was acting reserved with me, and it was understandable why, but I just couldn’t handle that. I needed to talk to her. Unfortunately, because we were filming, there would be cameras on us for much of the day. I had to figure out how to get through to her. I was becoming desperate for her.
*
Raina and I wandered around Whole Fare together, me pushing the cart, Raina slinking next to me. Along side of us was a cameraman, a guy named Joe that we’d all grown pretty friendly with. After we were filmed picking out produce, finding our seasonings, and finally waiting at the meat counter for our order, Joe stopped filming for a moment and aimed his camera down at the floor to take a break from holding it up.
“How much lamb was that?” asked the butcher, leaning over the counter.
“25 pounds,” mewed Raina softly.
“Gotcha,” he said, swiftly turning from us to continue packaging.
“I’m gonna have a smoke,” said Joe. “I have to get a shot of you ladies at the register, though, so will you wait for me?”
“Union break!” I said. Joe laughed at me and made like he was going to punch me.
“Hardy harr,” he said. “Let’s meet up front in 15 or so, cool?”
“That’s cool,” I said. Joe gave me a nod, turned from us, and began walking toward the front of the store with his camera by his side.
“Hey,” I said to Raina, seizing the moment, eager to speak with her. “You never answered any of my texts.” It was the first time we were able to speak without cameras on us ever since our last night together in the bedroom.
“It’s against the rules,” she said absently, her eyes looking off at the butcher as though she were eagerly anticipating the lamb.
“C’mon,” I said, reaching over and taking her arm. She looked at me with sadness in her eyes.
“Cut it out,” she said, pulling her arm back. “Let’s just be professionals.”
“Raina, I didn’t sabotage you,” I said. “Dale did. It had to have been him. You shot him down and he was pissed.”
“I saw the video,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Raina,” I insisted, giving a hard whisper into her ear. “I really care about you.”
“I just—“ she said, interrupting herself. She turned to me and gave me an exasperated look. “I’m angry, okay? I really wanted to win Hot Chef. I never should have let our relationship go beyond professional. I told myself when I started that I’d just stay mildly friendly, but guarded.” Her lips straightened and she shook her head, like she was disappointed in herself.
“It’s okay to make friends,” I countered. “It’s okay to… fall in love. That’s what life is all about.” I was starting to see that Raina had a bit of a chip on her shoulder. Of course she wanted to win. She had spent her young career living in her father’s shadow, trying to hide from people who might judge her and think that she had it easy. Raina just wanted her food and her abilities to speak for her. She wanted to prove that she could do it all on her own, without the specter of a famous chef father or a position at a fancy restaurant in New York. Just Raina and her food.
“God Emily,” she said. I could tell she was getting agitated. She leaned in closer to me and huffed quietly into my ear. “I let you lick my butthole.”
I couldn’t hold it together at that. I laughed. I know she was sensitive and upset with me but I couldn’t help but laugh at how she said it. Her eyes narrowed at me.
“C’mon,” I said. “That’s funny.” I wanted her to laugh with me. I wanted the mood to lighten. There was no sense in both of us being upset. What we had was good. We could make this work. I just wanted Raina to see that I was on her side.
“It’s not funny,” she said. “That’s so intimate.” Raina sighed.
“I’m sorry, Raina,” I said. “I loved being intimate with you. It means so much to me.”
“I just don’t know,” she said.
“How are you doing in Rebound Kitchen?” I said. “Do you think you can make it back into the competition?”
“I can’t say,” she said. “The rules.”
“Screw the rules,” I said in a whisper, looking around to make sure we weren’t being watched. “No cameras right now. Just us.”
“I’m the current winner,” she said, mimicking my whisper. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding in agreement. “I promise I won’t. I want you to win. I want you back, Raina.”
Raina just softly sighed and returned her eyes to the butcher who was coming back toward the front counter.
“Here you go, ladies,” he said, holding two large paper-wrapped bundles of meat. “Careful,” he said as he handed them to us.
“Thanks,” I said, reaching up and taking hold of one of the bundles. “We appreciate it.”
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You got it,” he said, swiftly turning away and moving on to the next customer.
I watched as Raina daintily set her bundle of lamb down in the cart and then took hold of the handle, like she was going to push. I followed her lead and put my lamb next to hers. Trying to catch her eyes, letting a smile creep over my face, I just couldn’t get her to give me a straight look. I think her disappointment didn’t have as much to do with me as it felt. Rather, even though she had surely been sabotaged, she was beating herself up inside. I could see it in her distant eyes. And I knew it because I had certainly felt it before.
When I was a much younger line cook, searching for my opportunity to make it in the world of cooking, I would go home some nights and berate myself for all the mistakes I’d made. They all seemed so important, you know? You ever screw up an entire tray of creme brûlée because you accidentally bumped water into the ramekins before you put them in the oven? Okay, maybe you haven’t, but that happens. If any water from the surrounding bath in the pan gets into the dessert before they bake, the custard won’t set and they end up a watery mess. It sucks. It’s a huge waste. But everybody does it once.
I was no stranger to the feelings of self-disappointment. But I knew that Raina had nothing to be disappointed about. She was thrown under the bus because some idiot producer was a child. It wasn’t Raina’s fault. It was beyond her control.
“Raina,” I said, trying to figure out exactly how I might communicate all this to her in a way that didn’t seem heavy-handed or presumptuous. I just wanted her to know I cared. “I just—“ I said, pausing, sighing softly. Her eyes looked up to me anemically, almost as if she could break into tears at any moment. “I love you,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”
I saw a turn in her at that moment. Although she was still obviously torn up inside, filled with worry and self-doubt, those simple words that I presented to her perhaps gave her a new hope. A new lease on the competition. I most certainly believed in her, as did the entire field of competitors. I mean, they feared her. She had to know that. And I think she did. I think she knew how talented she was. It was just that niggling self-doubt, that little voice inside that tries to get you to not believe your own hype. Sometimes that voice can keep you grounded, but other times that voice can keep you from reaching the stars.
“Let’s go check out,” said Raina, looking away from me. She began pushing the cart and I quickly followed behind. I was eager to help Raina, to fix her confidence, to help her believe in herself again. And to inspire her to believe in me. It could still be me and her in the finale, all she had to do was win Rebound Kitchen. With the contestants she might be up against, the 6 of us still currently competing, it would surely be difficult. But I don’t think there was any other chef better than Raina in our Hot Chef season. I think she deserved to win the whole damn thing.
THREE
*
IF YOU WERE watching Hot Chef at home, you might think that Unruly Restaurant takes place all in one day. I mean, the editing they do on the show is totally nuts. It make
s us look like we’re working nonstop. And while we most certainly do work our asses off with the challenges, some things would be completely impossible to do in the time frame they purport on television. After the trip to Whole Fare, they pulled Raina away from me and sent her back to the Rebound Kitchen house and took me to the Hot Chef kitchen where I organized and stored all the food we purchased. And after that, I reconvened with my other teammates back at our loft.
Maggie, Tina, and I sat at the barstools of our kitchen counter, outlining our plan for the following day. The guys were doing the same, sitting out on the balcony, drinking beers, laughing and chatting. As much as I hated the usual sexism found in the cooking world, I was actually basking in this battle of the sexes. I wanted to kick their butts so bad. And I knew that with Raina on our side, we had a pretty substantial advantage.
The sun was setting outside. We had pizza delivery on the way. It was a calm night, the calm before the storm that was Unruly Restaurant. I sipped lightly from a beer bottle and sighed contentedly. I was just so proud of myself, so happy, that I had made it this far in the competition.
“I want to be very careful,” said Maggie, absentmindedly doodling in her notebook. “You know front of the house goes on the Chop Block when shit goes bad on Unruly Restaurant. I don’t want to get sent home.”
“Have no fear,” I said. “I think we’ve got a really good theme, some awesome dishes, and we’re gonna blow the boys away.”
“I overheard what they’re doing,” said Tina. “Burgers.”
“Burgers?” I said. “C’mon. Really?”
“They’re doing a really fancy upscale burger joint,” she said, giving us both a serious look. “Huge risk, but possibly an amazing payoff. Think about it,” said Tina. “If they do just an ordinary burger, then… meh, whatever! But if they come up with something crazy, they could really impress the judges.”
“They’re just a bunch of meatheads,” said Maggie. The three of us laughed together. “Probably gonna do some foie gras burger thing. They’ll totally lose the foie and the judges will hate them for obscuring the flavor. I’m not worried.”
Chef Cutegirl: A Sweet Lesbian Romance Page 10
