by Alina Jacobs
I was starting to feel morose, so I snapped a selfie in front of the window and edited it, then posted to Instagram. I was immediately rewarded with hundreds of likes.
"That's all you needed, a nice ego boost," I told myself as I headed downstairs. Maybe I could make friends with someone who could help me win or at least navigate the contest.
"What am I supposed to do with all of this garland?" someone was yelling as I stepped off the elevator.
"Just hang it up!" I heard Dana shout.
"I am not an interior designer!" the man yelled back. He had on a headset that held back his long hair.
"I guess this isn't a polished production," I joked to him walking over.
"What gave it away?" he said shaking his head. "The decorator quit—was offered a better job. So now I have all of these Christmas decorations. I'm supposed to put everything up in the sound stage and I don't know what to do." He made a disgusted noise. "We're starting filming tomorrow morning. They better pay is all I have to say."
"Yeah," I agreed, "I need the prize money." I started pawing through the boxes.
"There's nice stuff in here," I told him and started pushing the loaded cart toward the double doors. "Come on, I'll help you deck the halls.
The technical guy followed me gratefully.
"You're a life saver. I just don't have the design touch."
We spend the next several hours putting up decorations, and when we were done, the studio set looked like Christmas. The production tech looked around in awe.
"You really did an amazing job," he said. I had arranged bunches of pinecones and ribbons, hung big fat strands of garlands, sprinkled fake snow, tucked little ornaments here and there, and put up lights to make the place sparkle.
"Are the fairy lights going to mess up the cameras?" I asked in concern.
"Nah," the tech said. "I have them plugged into the lighting board, so the lighting guy can adjust as needed."
I took out my phone to take picture for my Instagram account. It was the only thing going right in my life right now, especially since this contest was clearly not a Food Network production.
There was some decorations left over so I hung them up out in the lobby to make it feel more festive. As I was returning from stacking the boxes in a storage room, I heard more yelling.
"It stinks!" a deep voice said. "My whole tower smells disgusting."
"It smells like Christmas," I heard Gunner reply.
In the lobby off of the sound stage, was gorgeous man. Tall, broad shouldered with white almost silver hair, and icy blue eyes. Framed against the Christmas decorations, he made a perfect picture.
I snapped his photo. I knew who he was. Jack Frost—billionaire owner of Platinum Provisions. I think his company made some type of very expensive, highly specialized surgical equipment along with drill bits for mining and other applications, but I only knew them for their line of cooking tools and molecular gastronomy equipment. It was high precision and expensive.
I had my own special collection of thousands of dollars of Platinum Provisions' cooking and baking tools, and they were my most prized possessions. My collection contained tiny knives that rarely needed sharpening, distillery equipment to extract the flavor from various ingredients, and a high-precision frosting guns to make intricate decorations. Some of my most-liked Instagram posts were of the perfect miniature cakes I made with these Platinum Provisions baking tools.
Speaking of Instagram—I snapped Jack Frost's picture again. He was too perfect.
"Don't take my picture!" he said, his attention snapping on me.
"Holy smokes, Jack, calm down!" Gunnar said.
"I can't believe I let you rope me into judging this competition. You know I hate Christmas," Jack said.
"You don't like Christmas?" I blurted.
"I hate Christmas," he snarled, "I hate the scented candles and the decorations and the holiday baked goods.
"Not even Christmas cookies?" I asked, flabbergasted. Who doesn't like Christmas cookies?
He walked up to me, closing the distance between us and invading my personal space. I’m sure my eyes were wide in my head. I was wearing boots but he was tall and loomed over me, his icy blue eyes boring into me.
Wouldn't it be great if he was boring something else into you?
I told naughty elf living in my subconscious to shut up.
"I don't like cookies," Jack said, "And I don't like little girls who believe in the magic of Christmas."
"You'll like my cookies," I told him, not sure where that surge of courage came from.
"Don't bet on it," he replied and turned on his heel followed by Gunnar.
A bakeoff judge who hated sweets. Great.
2
Jack
The day had not gotten off to an auspicious start.
My younger brothers, Matt and Oliver, had left that morning and I already missed them. I was never able to spend that much time with them now that they were away at college, and they didn't even want to stay all of Thanksgiving weekend to see me. Instead, they wanted to return to Harvard early and see their friends.
Now I had to contend with this bakeoff that was going to starting filming tomorrow. I already regretted agreeing to allow Gunnar and Dana to film in my tower. The whole place reeked of sugar, butter, marzipan, and spices. And Gunnar didn't have enough money to pay a third judge so guess who was roped into it.
To make matters worse, now the short little blonde was taking my picture. I better not see it plastered all over the internet.
As I loomed over her, I could smell the sugar wafting off of her mingled with fresh pine boughs. She smelled like Christmas and when I said I hated cookies she looked at me, eyes wide with shock, like I was the Grinch personified.
"I can't wait for Christmas to be over," I muttered to myself as Gunnar ran after me and grabbed my upper arm.
"You need to remember why it is that we're filming here at all," he hissed. "You can't find tenants for this tower, and no tenants equals no rent money. Romance Creative is a paying tenant—"
"You haven't paid me a cent yet," I said to him.
"But we will, as long as this show is popular. You want the rent money? We can't have any more problems. The decorator quit, I barely have enough money to make payroll, and now you're threatening Chloe, who is the contestant with the most popular Instagram by a wide margin."
I glowered but I knew Gunnar was right.
"It's the Great Christmas Bakeoff, Charlie Brown," he said patting me on the shoulder, "and you need an attitude adjustment and a heaping tablespoon of Christmas cheer. This is going to be good publicity for both of us. We'll have fancy establishing shots of the tower and shots of the contestants in that beautiful lobby. Speaking of which we need more decorations outside and in the lobby to make it seem festive."
I scowled at him, but I knew he was right. This bakeoff was my last shot at drumming up paying tenants for Frost Tower.
I walked with Gunnar down to the lobby to try and find someone who could procure and install Christmas decorations inside and outside. I needed the tower to look impressive. I glanced over at the empty retail space off of the lobby. It was an expansive two story space. I had envisioned it as an upscale restaurant, but now it sat empty.
The security guard was nowhere to be found.
"I can't believe I pay that useless man," I muttered.
And to dumb a tanker of gasoline on this dumpster fire along came the person in the world I despised the most, aside from my parents. Hartleigh. The girl who had been obsessed with me and stalked my since I was a young teenager.
She saw me, shrieked, and made a bee line for me.
"What is she doing here?" I yelled.
"Seriously, Jack, you need to stop accosting contestants."
"Hartleigh cannot be a contestant, she's my stalker!" I protested
Hartleigh looked at me like I was a piece of meat and she was a hyena.
"Jack," she purred, sidling up to me and wrapping
her arms around me. She was wearing some sort of vintage fur and it made me sneeze.
"As soon as I heard this show was filming in your tower I had to be a participant." She grabbed the lapels of my suit and pulled me in, rubbing our noses together. I pushed her away.
"We're meant to be together, Jack," she said making kissy face at me.
"If you'll just check in upstairs," Gunnar said and Hartleigh sashayed away. Not that she did it convincingly. She was thin bordering on scrawny.
"She'll make for great TV," Gunnar told me while I brushed little pieces of fur off of my suit.
"Is she really the girl who's been stalking you?" I nodded and Gunnar looked thoughtful.
"I guess she does look kind of unhinged," he said. "Still if she tries to murder you wouldn't that put the show on everybody's radar! Romance Creative needs all the publicity we can get."
"Kidding, Jack," Gunnar said.
The elevator dinged and a familiar blonde walked out. Chloe. Her eyes narrowed at Hartleigh as my childhood stalker blew me a kiss.
"Dana said you needed more decoration down here," Chloe said looking around at the space. "I don't think we have enough."
"We should buy more," Gunnar said. I looked at Gunnar. He looked at me. I frowned then sighed and handed Chloe a credit card.
"Oooh!" she said taking it in her hand, "It's heavy."
I looked at her and she blushed. "I mean it’s a very thick credit card."
"It's American Express Black," I said. "They make them special."
"Will it even fit?"
Gunnar was silently laughing.
"I mean in the card reader," she clarified, blushing.
"Go shopping!" Gunnar said, spreading his arms. "We need to fill this place with Christmas cheer."
"I'll make it look like a winter wonderland," she said smiling up at me.
3
Chloe
I hadn't had time to shop yesterday but the production tech said they weren't releasing the first episode for another week or so, so there was still time to decorate the lobby and produce the establishing shots.
We had had orientation yesterday which went late and barely left any time to learn more about the other contestants.
Now it was early the next morning, too early, and I was on set for the first day of the bakeoff filming.
As I took my place at my station, Nonni, another contestant and my roommate said, "I'm so nervous."
"Me too," I told her, inspecting my work station.
"I'm not," Hartleigh announced. She was at the work station on my other side. "I already know Jack and I know he's going to give me the best score." She tossed her hair. Or she tried to at least. Hartleigh had this straw like hair that looked like it was blow dried, colored, and straightened within an inch of its life. I itched to give her a honey leave-in conditioner treatment.
I also wanted to redo her makeup. It looked caked on and gave her skin a chalky texture. The production didn't have the budget for makeup artists, so we contestants were on our own. I checked my own makeup in the compact mirror I had put in my apron. I looked ok, if a little tired.
A pretty, willowy young woman practically waltzed over to me. Her makeup and hair were stunning.
"You're Anastacia from with the blog, Whimsical Dining!" Nonni exclaimed. Anastasia air kissed us.
"I love you!" I gushed, "I wish I could travel all over and eat at Michelin star restaurants. Your blog is amazing!"
Anastasia did a proper hair toss, her chestnut locks cascading down her back. My curls and I had come to an uneasy truce, but they would never look like Anastacia's hair.
"You're so sweet," she said. "And just I adore you! I love your Instagram feed—you're so cute!"
"Are you judging the bakeoff?" Nonni asked.
"I'm hosting," Anastasia replied.
Before we could ask Anastasia any more questions, Dana walked into the room followed by the three judges. She motioned to Anastasia and the camera crews moved into position.
As Dana, Anastasia and the judges talked in low whispers, I studies the judges. More importantly I studied Jack. He looked amazing, in a deep navy blue suit with a very subtle pattern, though the billionaire seemed irritated that he had to be here. His mouth was a cold line and a frown interrupted his smooth features.
"Don't even think about it," Hartleigh hissed at me. "He's mine. We have a history."
"Yes, I heard you the first time," I told her.
Dana left the studio and Anastasia turned to the contestants as the judges took their seats on stools at a long butcher-block table.
"Welcome to the first episode of the Great Christmas Bakeoff, sponsored by Trader Mikes," she said. This show is about watching expert bakers create beautiful holiday inspired desserts. We don't do gimmicks, weird contests, sabotaging, or timed rounds. We give our contestants the space and time they need to create the most beautiful and tasty Christmas desserts possible. This is a five week contest, with two episodes a week."
She turned to the judges, the cameras following her movements.
"For our judges we have Anu Pillai, a chocolatier and baker from Lil' Masa bakery in NoLiTa. Then we have Nate Mazur, a pastry chef and restaurant owner with businesses all over the New York area. Finally, we have Jack Frost, founder and CEO of Platinum Provisions, a global company that makes among other things, a line of specialty items for cooking and baking."
I felt charged and anxious while Anastasia talked. I knew about the two chefs who were judging. They were critically acclaimed and made award-winning desserts. I knew they would be tough.
"For this first challenge," Anastasia continued, "we'll ease everyone into the holidays with the Santa's Christmas Cookie challenge. Everyone has the experience of selecting the perfect plate of cookies to leave out for Santa Clause. Now we want you all to create the perfect plate of cookies for the judges. Do the judges have any advice before the contestants start?"
"What I look for in a cookie is that it needs to be soft but have some yield," Nick Mazur said. "I don't want to just taste sugar, it needs to have a complexity of flavors."
"I concur," said Anu. "Cookies are quite deceptive. They are finicky, and to make the perfect cookie, all steps in the process need to be completed perfectly. Since this is Christmas we will also be looking for cookies that evoke the memories of childhood and holidays spent with family. Food has a power in that it can be transportive and take you back to places, memories, and people you thought were long gone."
Anastasia nodded then said, "Jack do you have anything to add?" Jack looked even more annoyed, which I didn’t think was possible.
"Jack," Anastasia repeated.
He looked right at the camera and said, "You have ample time to make beautiful creations. This evening, when the round is over, don't show up with something that looks homemade. My company has products that can help you create high precision decorations with icing and other edible fluid ingredients. There is a range of equipment at your stations. I suggest you make use of it."
"Don't forget," Dana said as she walked around us as we were gathering ingredients, "The aim here is viral videos and beautiful pictures for Instagram. This show won't sell well with advertisers if you all just hack some horrible cookie together. We want beautiful desserts. You have all morning and most of the afternoon. Keep in mind we may ask you to redo something so we can get a better shot. This is supposed to be more like the Buzzfeed food shows you see on YouTube, not a scripted Food Network production. Do good work. There's a fan favorite prize as well, so make sure you are promoting the show on social media."
I gathered the flour, butter, sugar, eggs, and almond extract I would need for my cookies. I had a perfect recipe for a sugar cookie—it had some bite, but it was fluffy and the almond made it a little nutty. I mixed the dough, put it in the fridge, and contemplated the best way to make a winning plate of cookies.
Baking the same types of cookies wouldn't be enough to win but I didn't want to go wild and make a thousand diffe
rent types. That wouldn't photograph well, and I always like to keep the photograph in mind—my Instagram fans wanted to see beautiful pictures. I decided to use the same dough, but make different shapes and sizes and decorate them differently.
I had a collection of cookie cutters, but none of them seemed special enough. I looked under the table and found a box labeled PLATINUM PROVISONS. The box contained some of the basic tools the company made, but nothing super special. Fortunately I had brought my own tools. I retrieve my dough and started to roll it out.
"Do you mind talking a little about what you're planning?" Anastasia asked, coming over to my workstation trailed by two camera men.
I'm making an assortment of sugar cookies, I told her. I don't want to overdo it, I just want a great pretty cookie, but I also don't want it to be too precious. I'm using the cookie cutters to make some and others I'm freehanding. I want big cookies and small ones to make a balanced looking plate."
I didn't mind talking to Anastasia. We had most of the day to work, and soon the thoughts of Jack and Hartleigh and the contest faded away and it was me and my baking. The cookies came out of the oven perfectly. The snowflakes I had hand cut held their shape thankfully. You can never tell with an unknown oven. I let them sit on the baking sheets to cook the rest of the way with the residual heat. Then I prepped the icing. I was debating between a stiff buttercream and a royal icing. The royal icing would let me draw more intricate patterns by hand compared to buttercream, but I personally liked the taste of buttercream better.
Fortunately I had the Platinum Provisions icing piper.
The tips were very tiny and made the most intricate patterns. The icing piper was run by forced air. I plugged it in and did a few tests, making sure the consistency of the frosting was right. Then I set to work. The nice thing about the Platinum Provisions piper was that it could hold multiple colors of frosting. It wasn't magic though, and it still took me longer that I had hoped to decorate the hundred or so cookies we had to make. Each judge needed to have a plate, and we had to make additional plates for the camera teams to film and photograph.
