The world is amazing like that. As long as you’re open to it.
*
Three hours flies by quickly, as does a 3 course service for loads of your fellow chefs, friends, family, mentors. When I’m in work-mode I get tunnel vision, and the Hot Chef finale was no exception. I felt like I blinked and I was serving the judges. I blinked again and it was all over, the entire room satiated by both Raina and my best efforts. And then I blinked for a final time and the two of us were standing in front the judges, our last Chop Block in front of us, surrounded by the other contestants, my sister, Raina’s father, the culmination of weeks of hard and grueling work about to come to a close with just one name spoken.
For me, it was like one of those dinner services where everything just flows. I know Raina felt the same way. Neither of us had any problems in the kitchen. There were no sabotages, no running out of an ingredient or overcooking meat. It really did come down to who made the better food, whose had the better flavor, who had the better technique. I wanted it no other way. This is how Hot Chef always ended. There was drama early on, egos clashed, mistakes made.
But by the finale, the two chefs that remained were focused and serious and professional and both eager to win fair and square. It’s strange, but at that point, standing there in front of the judges after the final challenge, it almost didn’t seem like a cooking reality TV show anymore. I hardly noticed the cameras. Like when I was in the kitchen of my own restaurant, relying on my reflexes, my muscle memory, to deftly fly through a stressful dinner service, Hot Chef was just something I had to get through to achieve my goals. I mean, yeah, it was special. It was a higher goalpost than I was used to. But at the end of the day, at this last judgment, it seemed like just another part of my story.
“Emily and Raina,” began Pema in a calm and even tone, not trying to give any hint whatsoever of who the winner might be. “How does it feel to have reached the very end of Hot Chef?”
“Crazy,” I said, exhaling deeply.
“Yeah, crazy,” said Raina, shaking her head. We were both exhausted. It was a battle well-fought.
Looking around I saw Richard gazing on at us… and Maggie, Tina, Julio, Mike, Jason, Perry, all of the chefs who we’d taken this journey with. My sister Heather had wide eyes and Raina’s father Jacques had a beaming, proud smile. Our mentors, Jean-Claude and Hugo were to another side, standing amongst a handful of other famous chefs. This was my life. It seemed like a dream but it was reality. I felt an effervescence bubble through me. I hadn’t been able to stop and just revel in my own happiness for some time. I knew everyone around us was proud of us but I was proud of us too. I had so much joy running through me and looking next to me, seeing Raina standing there, it just doubled those joyful feelings I felt.
“I just want to say,” began Tim. “That technically… both of you did an incredible job. Exactly what we’d expect from the both of you. Each of you displayed the kind of talent we expect from a Hot Chef winner.”
“You both went with tuna for your first dish,” remarked Pema. “And this one was a toss up for the judges.”
“Right,” said Tim. “Emily’s tuna and escolar tartare with tomato water and jalapeño was great, very fresh, just the right amount of spice.”
“But I favored Raina’s,” said Gretel. “Hamachi and tuna with green apple wasabi, celery, Meyer lemon. It was perfection in my mind.”
“It was all about dead even coming from your fellow chefs,” said Tim. “We really couldn’t call this one. You both did superb.”
“Emily, I have to say,” said Pema. “Your entree of swordfish with squash puree, braised kale, and smoked onion jus really did it for me. I normally find kale boring but you really turned it up a notch.”
“Thank you, Pema,” I said quietly.
“And again,” said Tim. “Similar ingredients, Raina had squash in her entree.”
“Yes,” said Gretel. “Kombu cured duck breast with kabocha squash, hijiki and ginger. I loved the Asian influence in this dish, and in your previous dish, Raina.”
“I felt Raina’s was a bit more inspired,” said Tim. “While Emily played it kind of safe in this round.”
I felt my stomach sink a bit. Everyone knew that the entree course was usually the most important to the judges. If Raina had me beat here, I was toast.
“I disagree with Tim and Gretel here,” said Pema. “I think this round should go to Emily. My swordfish was cooked perfectly and, like I said, I really enjoyed the kale.”
“On to desert,” said Tim. “Emily, you gave us a chocolate zeppole with macadamia nuts and passion fruit anglaise. While your presentation was spot on, I felt my zeppole was a little doughy.”
“Mine was, too,” said Pema. “Though we all loved the flavors.”
“Raina gave us caramelized white chocolate panna cotta with an almond cocoa crumble and tropical fruit,” said Tim. “We didn’t see Raina the pastry chef come out too often this season but I have to say, the panna cotta had a great texture, and it complemented your entire meal perfectly.”
“Ladies,” said Pema. “This was an incredibly difficult decision for us. You both gave us spectacular meals. You didn’t just impress us, but you impressed all your fellow chefs as well.”
With that, the crowd that surrounded us gave us a warm round of applause.
“But as you know,” said Tim. “There can be only one winner. Only one of you will walk out of here with $125,000, a spread in Culinary Flourish Magazine, and that coveted title of Hot Chef.”
“Are you nervous?” said Pema with an impish grin.
“Uh, yeah!” I said, giving off a nervous laugh. “It’s been a long road to this spot where I’m standing but I wouldn’t change anything. I’m so happy to be here and it was an honor and a pleasure to complete with Raina.”
“Raina?” asked Pema. “How are you feeling?”
“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” said Raina anxiously. She often hid her emotions, but I could tell she was pretty beaten down by the competition and her defenses were lowered from her exhaustion. “It’s just… so wild to be here, to be competing like this. And, like Emily said, I’m so happy that it was against her.”
“Wow,” said Tim. “Raina, that might be the most I’ve heard you speak all season.”
Raina released her rolling giggle and looked down shyly.
“With all that being said,” said Pema. “We’ve taken into consideration what everybody else in this room had to say. And again, it was a blind tasting. None of us, when judging, had any idea whose dish was whose. We simply knew the order of the dishes. We didn’t discover who prepared what until after we had decided.”
“Right,” said Tim. “We played no favorites. But before Pema announces the winner… Emily, Raina, it was a pleasure having you both on Hot Chef and we’re all sure that you’re both going great places. Keep on cooking your level of cuisine and neither of you can be stopped.”
“Thank you, Chef,” the two of us said simultaneously.
“And the winner is…” began Pema.
Time stood still for me. I couldn’t even process what was happening to me in that moment. My entire culinary adventure, from starting out on dish duty when I was just a kid, all the way up to being promoted to head chef at Maison, it all flashed before me. I felt like I needed some grounding, so I pushed my hand over to Raina and took her hand in mine. We both squeezed tightly. I could tell how uncharacteristically nervous she was as well.
“Raina,” said Pema with excitement. “Congratulations! You are Hot Chef!”
I squeezed Raina’s hand tighter as she turned to look me in the eyes. Our enthusiasm grew together and suddenly Raina leapt forward and hugged me, happily squealing, tears coming from her eyes, her feet dancing up and down, her little figure shaking all over me. I couldn’t help but laugh. Yeah, I was disappointed that I didn’t win. But it didn’t matter to me. I was happy for Raina. And the joy that she exuded, standing there, hugging me, confetti falling dow
n atop us, the crowd roaring and racing in to congratulate her, I mean… that made it all worth it.
“Oh my God!” she cried out, her feet still stomping like a little girl excited for an ice cream cone. “I’m Hot Chef!”
Raina was pulled from me by the others, everybody wanting to give her a hug and congratulate her. My sister Heather swooped in and slid a single arm around my waist, pulling tightly against me.
“You okay?” Heather whispered to me.
“I’m great,” I said with a smile. And I meant it. As I watched Raina’s happy face, an irrepressible smile deeply engraved on her lips, I was totally fine. The month and a half I had spent on Hot Chef was magical. It had changed a lot for me. And coming in second to Raina was no loss. I felt like a winner already. I was excited to explore my spoils.
Smiling, laughing at Raina’s happiness, I hugged tight against Heather, arm in arm. What an amazing adventure.
*
“Emily, is your mic pack turned on?” asked Paula, lifting her headset from her neck and situating it over her ears. Raina and I sat together on a bench, another production assistant fussing with Raina’s microphone setup as Paula helped with me.
“Yeah,” I said evenly, twisting my torso and lowering my hand to the pack for the mic, shoved in my back pocket, checking to see if it was turned on. We had all grown pretty accustomed to being outfitted with those things and knew well how to operate them. “Yep,” I affirmed. “It’s on. And my lav is clipped,” I said, giving the lavalier microphone attached to my collar a little tug.
It was the day after Raina’s win. Everything was calming down and I knew we were both happy for the competition to be finished. Still, Raina was grinning, her face more animated than ever, reveling in her win and delighted with everything that came with it. She was almost bouncing there on the bench, eager to do the interview, excited for what this public showing of her skills would do for her career. I couldn’t blame her. I’d be bouncing too.
Normally they did a solo interview with the winner but as they knew Raina and I had grown so close over filming, and they had plenty of footage to craft a romantic narrative for us, they wanted to get a duet interview to further the story they would tell about us. Neither of us minded. We didn’t have to be secretive about our budding relationship anymore. We only kept it hidden from the other chefs so as to not inspire any ill-will from them, like we were teaming up against them or something. Raina and I played it fair throughout the competition and the best chef indeed won.
“All right,” said Paula, sitting down in a chair across from us and behind the camera. “We’re rolling. Ready ladies?”
“Yep,” said Raina.
“Definitely,” I said.
“So Raina,” began Paula. “What were you feeling when you heard your name called?”
“Oh, I just couldn’t believe it,” she said. “I really thought Emily had me beat.”
“C’mon,” I mused sarcastically. “You’re crazy.”
“I tasted your swordfish!” she countered. “Maybe I’m just partial to swordfish.” Raina grinned into the camera.
“What does the win mean to you?” asked Paula, reading from a clipboard. “How will it affect your career going forward?”
“It’s huge!” said Raina. “I’ve kinda been living in my father’s shadow for my whole career and I think this shows what I’m capable of. Emily and I are talking about opening a restaurant together and the money from this win will really help for that.”
“You two have grown pretty close over the course of the show,” said Paula. “Once we’re done, what’s next? Chicago? New York? Some place else?”
“Oh jeez,” said Raina. “I don’t know! Emily?”
“I’d really like to spend some time in New York,” I beamed. “My short time here for the finale has been great. I haven’t even got to see Latch yet or run around with Raina. Maybe I’ll stick around!”
“Really?” asked Raina with a joyful smile. “That would be amazing.”
“Yeah!” I said. “Why not? New York is an awesome place for food. And you’ve got some pretty good connections here.” I grinned and gently pushed my elbow into Raina’s side.
“Wow,” said Raina, bemused. “That would be so cool.”
“So are the two of you a couple?” asked Paula, prying into what the production team knew the season’s viewers would want to know.
“Oh man!” said Raina, becoming bashful. She doubled over with her nervous rolling laugh, holding her stomach as she bent. “Come on.”
“Emily?” asked Paula with a smile.
“Would it be the first romance that came from Hot Chef?” I asked.
“We’ve had, you know, casual romances happen on the show before,” said Paula. She winked. “But nothing this obvious.”
“Was it really obvious?” said Raina. “Oh man, I feel so embarrassed!”
“Well, I like to think sparks are flying,” I said, grinning at Raina, reaching my hand out to take hers. She daintily accepted and returned my smile.
“Emily, are you at all jealous of Raina’s win?” asked Paula.
“No way,” I said unequivocally. “No, she was my favorite the whole season.”
“You’re my favorite,” said Raina, punctuating her affirmation with a giggle.
“All the chefs knew,” I said. “At first they thought Raina was a twerp or something because she’s a little introverted. But she had the chops and they knew it.”
“And what about your elimination, Raina?” asked Paula. With this question, both Raina and I had immediate changes in our expressions. We knew we’d get asked this question and had decided beforehand to play it cool. “What happened there? There seemed to be a bit of sabotage around it.”
“It was disappointing,” said Raina. “But we all make mistakes. I proved myself in Rebound Kitchen, came back, and won. That’s all that matters to me.” She smiled happily.
“You don’t think there was foul play?” said Paula, raising an eyebrow.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” reiterated Raina. “I won. That’s all that matters now.”
“Thanks ladies,” said Paula, smiling and standing up from her chair. As Paula stood, the cameraman aimed his camera down to the floor and stretched his shoulders.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it,” she said.
Raina and I both shrugged and began to remove our mic packs.
And that was it. Hot Chef was over. It had been a crazy ride and admittedly a lot of fun. I knew I had made friends for life. Maggie, Julio, Richard, these were people in the industry I knew that I’d cross paths with again. And lovely Raina. Together we were unstoppable. Our personalities complemented well and we both had what it took to succeed as restauranteurs. Talent, drive, that fiery desire for accomplishment.
That fiery desire for each other.
If you’re looking for love, my advice is to just stop looking and start living. It’s important to love yourself, focus on what’s best for you and your life, before you try to administer love to someone else. I’ve been there and it just leads to co-dependence. But when you simply begin to let life unfold in front you, accept whatever it hands your way, give in to synchronicity and kismet, you never know what you might find. You might end up on some reality TV show, stuffed into the same bedroom as the girl of your dreams. You might be in direct competition with the love of your life. And hey, that’s perfectly fine. It’s all fine.
I could see my future clearly. For the first time, it didn’t seem so nebulous, so cloudy. I was grateful for all the opportunities I had been given, all the people who had helped me along the way, and I knew that one day I would be the one helping others, training the next crop of chefs, taking a chance on some young woman who had the fire in her heart and could wield a knife with the best of them. I loved the culinary world and could think of no better place for a chick like myself.
I was ready for my future. I was happy. You’re going to know the name Emily Gol
d. And you’re going to love what she’s cooking.
*
Thank you so much for reading Chef Cutegirl! I write these stories for you and sincerely hope you enjoy them. If you liked this novel, please leave a positive review on Amazon and let me know what you loved most. Reviews not only help to inform potential readers of a good book, but they also let us authors know we’re on the right track. Writing and publishing is a tireless profession, and there’s nothing more rewarding than positive feedback from readers. Thank you so much for your support!
Love,
Nico
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AN EXCERPT FROM: SWEETHEART STARLET
*
“ARE WE READY to get started?” I asked, looking around the room through the lenses of my black plastic frames. I sat at the head of the table in our small conference room, a stack of papers in front of me, flipping a pen around in my fingers and occasionally chewing it. Sometimes I wondered how I got to this position. It happened really fast, much quicker than I ever imagined it would. Going from an improv and comedy performer in Chicago, then somehow waking up one day as head writer of This Saturday, a live sketch comedy television show in New York. It’s a lot of pressure, a lot of responsibility. You’ve got to not only always be funny, but you need to learn to wrangle other funny weirdos like yourself.
Chef Cutegirl: A Sweet Lesbian Romance Page 15
