Chef Cutegirl: A Sweet Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  “I think it’s only fitting that, at this point in the competition, I cook for you,” said Tim. “How do you like your eggs?”

  “What?” said Raina, her lips turning to a grin.

  “That’s right,” said Tim. “Sit down, relax, and let me cook you breakfast this morning.”

  Both Raina and I were completely blown away. Chef Tim was an amazing chef. His restaurants had more Michelin Stars than I could count on two hands, he’d won so many awards, had his own line of cookbooks, and obviously he had been hosting Hot Chef for over a decade. He was an inspiration. He was probably one of the most respected chefs in the country.

  Tim began setting up in the kitchen, his mise en place already set on the tray he brought in. He fired up the stove as Raina and I sat back down at the counter, returning to our coffees, watching Chef expertly cook in front of us. The cameraman hung around us, getting shots from various angles, trying to make himself blend in with the background so we could just relax and have a good time with Tim.

  “So,” began Tim. “Big day today. How are you feeling?”

  “Nervous,” I said. “I’m not going to lie.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” said Tim. “There’s a lot at stake. Especially when you’re up against a good friend.” Raina demurred, laughed softly, and looked down.

  “I’m not cutting Raina any slack,” I said.

  “And I don’t think she’ll cut you any,” said Tim. “Raina, how do you feel?”

  “Pretty good,” she said.

  “Are you worried about Emily?” asked Tim.

  “Not really,” grinned Raina. Both Tim and I laughed.

  “Who do you think is gonna win?” I asked Tim. He raised his eyebrows, his bald head scrunching up.

  “I don’t know, to be honest,” said Tim. I’m sure he had a favorite between us but he was just being political about it all so that he could appear impartial. “You both have your talents and both of you have weaknesses. I think the one who can exploit the other’s weakness the best will have the greatest shot at winning.”

  “Care to tell us what our weaknesses are?” I said, grinning from ear to ear. It felt great to shoot the shit with Tim as he made us breakfast. He had just plated what looked like a small piece of toast with salmon, though I knew he’d explain it all to us shortly.

  “I could tell you,” said Tim. “Can you handle it?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Sure,” said Raina.

  “All right,” said Tim. “First, dig in.” He slid a plate in front of each of us. “To start we have a smoked salmon crostini with a bit of hand-whipped cream cheese, capers, some shaved fennel, and dill. Enjoy,” he said, waving his hand toward us. The plate looked beautiful, much better than any room service I’d had at a hotel. Raina and I simultaneously picked up our salmon crostini and took a bite as Tim turned around to continue working on breakfast.

  “This is an excellent starter,” I said, taking another bite. “Thank you, Chef.”

  “What’s this flavor in the cream cheese?” asked Raina softly.

  “Just a hint of star anise,” said Tim.

  “Mmm,” said Raina, nodding, taking another bite.

  “So weaknesses,” began Tim. “Let me think. Well, first… Emily,” he said, his eyes shooting over to me. “You sometimes have timing issues in that you rush. You look at the clock, it gives you a bit of a shock, and then you sort of rush through things.”

  “Noted,” I said.

  “And Raina,” said Tim. “Hmm, well, Raina you sometimes underestimate your opponent. Despite your quiet exterior you think pretty highly of yourself, just like many of the chefs that come through Hot Chef, and if you let that go to your head, if you think you can’t lose, well, that just may be what causes you to make a mistake.”

  “Thank you, Chef,” said Raina. She was trying to stifle a grin. We both knew what Tim said was true. You couldn’t argue with someone like him.

  “I think you both have your work cut out for you,” said Tim. “Just stay focused, don’t worry about what the other chef is doing, and put out the best food you possibly can.”

  “Yes, Chef,” both Raina and I said in unison.

  “Are you ready for the next course?” said Tim with a content smile.

  *

  “Okay,” said Paula, a member of the production team. “We’re almost ready.” She had a headset on and a clipboard in her hand. She, Raina, me, and a cameraman all waited at the doorway leading out to a beautiful garden atop a Manhattan residence building. It was an amazing event space, the kind of place someone with money might have a wedding. We didn’t know what to expect as we geared up to walk out to the balcony garden though I knew we were both intensely excited for the experience. I smiled, reached over, and squeezed Raina’s hand. Raina grinned at me and squeezed back.

  “Can you tell us what we’re getting into?” I asked, hopeful that Paula would give us a hint at least.

  “Sorry Em,” she said. “If you’ve watched the show before you could probably predict. But I can’t say anything beyond that.”

  “All right,” I said, taking a deep breath. “What do you think?” I asked quietly to Raina.

  “It’s kinda nerve-wracking,” she admitted. Her hand was slightly clammy as our fingers kneaded together.

  “I’m so happy to be doing this with you,” I admitted. “This just worked out so well. I don’t care who wins. I feel like I’ve already won.”

  “Me too,” smiled Raina, looking up to me with her cute little pale face.

  “Chef Cutegirl,” I mused, staring into her eyes. “We’re in this together.”

  “Yep,” she said. I adored her.

  “Okay ladies,” said Paula, adjusting her headset. “We’re set. Here we go.” Paula reached out and opened the door in front of us, letting a burst of sunlight in, blinding me for a moment. As my eyes adjusted, I looked out on the veranda to see a large group of people clapping. Raina and I began walking out and that’s when I began to recognize the group. Not only were the Hot Chef judges in attendance, but also all of our former competitors, as well as a number of celebrity chefs.

  It was almost too much to take in. I felt weak, like I could collapse, but I held it together and let my smile grow. This was my moment.

  “Chefs!” called out Pema, applauding for us as we approached. “Welcome to the Hot Chef finale!”

  The sound of applause was deafening and I even heard a few hoots from the audience.

  “Welcome chefs,” said Tim, giving us a wave. “I trust you had a good breakfast.”

  “Yes, Chef,” I said. “Best room service I’ve ever had.”

  “I made breakfast for them,” Tim said as he leaned over to Pema. It was all for the cameras. There’s no way Pema didn’t know every little thing that happened on this show.

  “So you started your day with a great meal,” said Pema. “And now it’s your turn to cook a great meal… for all of us!”

  “Look around,” said Tim. Both Raina and I followed his orders, looking into the faces of all the people surrounding us. “You should see some familiar faces.”

  “Emily and Raina,” said Pema. “We’ve brought back all the chefs you competed against this season. Along with them, you’ll notice some other notable chefs that we’ve had on as guest judges.”

  “And most familiar of all,” said Tim. “We’ve brought some of your family along for the ride.”

  “Come on out!” beckoned Pema. “Emily, we have your sister Heather and Raina we have your father, Chef Jacques Perrault!”

  I almost freaked out as I saw my sister Heather walk out from the same door we came through, standing next to Raina’s father who, you know, pretty much everybody in attendance was familiar with. As Chef Jacques came out along side Heather, all of the other chefs gasped and applauded, completely surprised to discover that Raina’s father was a famous chef we all knew and loved.

  “Heather!” I squealed, leaping forward and hugging her. Raina,
also overly excited, beamed and happily whooped, hugging her father next to Heather and I.

  “I can see surprise in a lot of faces around here,” said Tim. “I don’t think the other chefs were aware that Raina came from culinary royalty.”

  “That’s very nice of you to say,” said Chef Jacques in his cute French accent. Now that I saw both Raina and her father together, I could certainly see the resemblance. “But I think that my daughter has proven she is royalty in her own right, no?”

  “Quite true,” said Tim. “I think Raina has proven herself to be an extremely talented chef throughout this entire competition. From being on top for many challenges, to fighting her way back in Rebound Kitchen, Raina has shown how fiercely she can cook.”

  “But let’s not discount Emily,” said Pema. “Emily has been a real leader in the kitchen, not only giving us exceptional plates every time, but also leading her team to victory in a hard-fought Unruly Restaurant.”

  “I think both of these chefs deserve a round of applause,” said Tim. And with that, the crowd rang out with clapping and shouts, I could hear both mine and Raina’s names being called from our fellow chefs. An experience like that is once in a lifetime and it makes you feel so good about yourself. It makes all the hard work feel truly worth it. The recognition for a difficult career is just mind-blowing.

  “So here’s how it’s going to work, chefs,” said Pema. “The two of you will be cooking for all of us,” she said, widening her arms out. Everyone applauded once more. “And every one of us will be voting on our favorite chef of the night.”

  “But it will be a blind tasting,” said Tim. “Nobody here will know who cooked what, including your sister, Emily, and your father, Raina.”

  “So you could easily be voted runner-up by your own family,” said Pema with a bemused tone. A chorus of dramatic ‘oohs’ came from the crowd.

  “You’re going to have 3 hours to prepare a 3-course meal for us,” said Tim. “Appetizer, entree, and dessert.”

  “But there’s going to be a twist,” said Pema with a wry grin on her face.

  “Another one?” I asked, exasperated.

  “Yes, another one,” she affirmed.

  “Chefs,” began Tim. “You’ll both have 15 minutes to sit down and discuss your menus with your mentors.”

  “Please welcome Jean-Claude Proulx of Maison du Faisan in Chicago and Hugo Kirshner of Latch here in New York,” said Pema. Again the applause rang. It was getting to be too much to bear. All of these people together in one place. When I saw Jean-Claude, I just about cried. I had worked as sous chef under him at Maison for so long and although he was “officially” retired as head chef, he was still the owner and still running things just as well as he had done when he was younger.

  Jean-Claude and I hugged happily as Hugo and Raina did the same. I really can’t put any of this to adequate words. It was like a family reunion or, rather, one of those “This Is Your Life!” shows where they surround you with the most important people in your life. I was just flabbergasted.

  “I know this is all pretty exciting,” said Tim. “So let’s not waste anymore energy. Chef Emily, Chef Raina,” he said, turning to us and addressing just the two of us. “As I said, you’ll each have 15 minutes to spend with your mentors and go over your menu. Then it’s off to the kitchen to cook service for all of us here on this balcony. No pressure chefs, it’s just the title of Hot Chef on the line along with a hefty sum of cash.”

  Oddly enough, there was so much pressure, so much emotion in all of this it was like there was none at all, if that makes any sense. The stakes were so high, there was so much riding on the outcome of this competition, it was almost as though we had blown right by the nerves and anxiety and instead landed squarely on ‘get down to business.’ And, as I looked over at Raina, I was just excited that we were in this together. I knew we had so much more in front of us… together.

  “So unless you have any questions, chefs,” said Tim, his smile widening. “Let’s do this!”

  *

  Strangely enough, through all of this drama in the finale shooting, Dale the producer was nowhere to be seen. I had anticipated perhaps having to fight him off but it appeared he had given up on trying to bag Raina. Ever since Unruly Restaurant when I had caught his little henchman trying to screw with us, Dale had remained in the shadows. And it was just as well. I couldn’t stand any more obstacles.

  My time spent with Jean-Claude was incredibly valuable. I felt, going into that kitchen against Raina, I had my entire team at Maison behind me, cheering me on, supporting me in my culinary dreams. Although it was probably expected of me to do something French-inspired, I decided to give them all a surprise. Still, I’m sure that even though the judging was blind, everybody would know whose dishes were whose. These people all knew both Raina and I quite well, they knew our styles of cooking, and it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to guess the food. Really, it would just come down to who was the better chef. And that was fine.

  Raina and I worked in close quarters in the immaculate kitchen high up there in the building, attached to a beautiful banquet hall. Hung high up on a wall near the service door was a countdown clock, informing us of our timing, as we both furiously worked on our dishes, just the two of us in that kitchen. I felt kind of harried, though Raina looked moderately calm as she expertly wielded her knife against an unsuspecting carrot.

  “I still don’t believe it,” I remarked as I too sliced into my cutting board. “This is so unreal.”

  “Right?” said Raina, looking over to me, offering up a hint of her iconic rolling giggle. I could tell she was excited by all this. Raina liked to play it cool but at the end of the day, she was a chef like any one of us, just trying to make a name for herself.

  “I think everyone was totally in awe of who your father is,” I said.

  “I know,” said Raina. “I’m glad I hid it throughout the competition.”

  “I don’t think anyone is judging you for any of it,” I said. “All the chefs know you earned your place.”

  “Thanks,” she said, smiling at me.

  My heart melted as Raina and I locked eyes. I really was a lucky woman. Cooking in the finale of Hot Chef alongside the love of my life, on the cusp of greatness. There was no other place to go but up for Emily Gold and I was going to make damn sure to didn’t stop to rest on my laurels. This all inspired me to work even harder, to show my worth, to create something big for myself. And for Raina. Girls like her don’t come along every day, especially when you’re cloistered away in a hot and sweaty kitchen. I counted her adoration as part of my success. If you just work hard, stay diligent, and stay true, things will work out for you.

  That was something I was finally beginning to learn. You hear it all the time but sometimes it’s difficult to make sense of the wisdom. Hard work pays off. I mean, so cliche. I don’t think it’s just hard work, though. It’s perseverance. It’s never giving up. If you just put your effort into something, keep improving, keep sweating, success is a foregone conclusion. When stuff gets hard, a lot of people just give up. “I want to be a head chef,” they might say. But then they stay out all night drinking, or worse yet doing drugs, and they never allow themselves the space to be the best them they can be.

  You’ve got to be the best you day after day, night after night, go home, go to sleep, wake up the next morning and do it all over again. Sure, some people get lucky. But the majority of successful people work for it. “Luck” is a byproduct of preparation, and every time I’ve felt a little luck come my way, it’s because I had worked hard to put myself in a place where that luck was possible.

  Like in that final kitchen on Hot Chef. I could still be a line cook in the suburbs of Chicago. I could be putting my paycheck up my nose, sleeping with whatever girl I could wrangle at the end of the night at some crummy bar, spending my kitchen time shelling oysters or cutting lemons, getting my ass pinched by some sexist burnout chef who never learned to respect women in the kitchen
. That could be my reality. But no, I opted for a different route. Being a chef doesn’t have to be a profession of excess and self-sabotage, which is what so many people in the industry think to be their life’s script. No, it can be a career that sends you soaring to great heights, enabling you to be the best you possible, to grab onto fantastic accolades, and even fall in love in the process.

  I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ve got no advice for a younger Emily, she did well by me. The bumps in the road, the mistakes, it’s all integral to future success. Fail and fail again and just keep working at it all. And damn it, follow your dreams and don’t let anyone tell you differently. There are so many people out there that have advice for you, people who think they know what’s best. Unless they’re living the life you want to live, don’t listen to them. They want you to become a lawyer or get a job in an office pushing papers around when all you really want is to stand in front of an open flame and cook a big hunk of meat to perfection. Don’t leave that grill. Embrace the heat, revel in the sweat, because you could easily be standing in my shoes in the not too distant future.

  “Hey Emily,” said Raina, looking over to me sheepishly as she set her knife down on her cutting board.

  “Yeah?” I said, turning to her, resting my hip against the counter and smiling happily.

  “Maybe we could open a restaurant together,” she said with the hint of a smile and a gentle shrug. “I mean, wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “That would be so much fun.”

  “So it really doesn’t matter who wins,” said Raina. “One of us will win the money but, you know, it can just go to the same restaurant.”

  Moving over toward Raina, I slung my arms around her waist and pulled in tightly against her for a hug. She eagerly returned my affection. After a delicate moment of embracing, we kissed. Our lips colliding together in a sweet, tender kiss filled with love and possibility and portents of our future together. It was exhilarating.

  Who knew such a romance could steep in the kitchen? Who knew that Hot Chef would be so life-altering for me? Who knew that it would all come together for me and everything I had hoped and dreamed for would finally come to fruition?