CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
“ALL RIGHT, CHEFS,” JESSICA SAYS ONCE WE’RE behind our stations, with our hands on the lids of our baskets. “It’s time to find out what four ingredients you’ll be working with today.” She smiles brightly, letting the tension build. “Remember, you must use at least one of the items in each of your dishes.” I glance nervously at Paulie, who gives me a quick head nod and a wink. “Open your baskets,” Jessica says.
Pulling the lid back, I unpack each of the mystery ingredients and place them on the table.
Salami. I can work with that. It’s spiced meat, so the possibilities are limitless.
Popcorn. This one could be interesting, but I’ve seen it on other shows before. The trick is going to be using it in a unique and unexpected way.
The next two items stump me. The first is a spice that looks like it should be on an old-fashioned Christmas tree. And the second looks like a sea urchin. As I study it, I feverishly hope that it’s not a sea urchin.
Once everyone has put their baskets away, Jessica clears her throat to get our attention. “In your basket, you have four ingredients to use in your dishes. The first is salami.”
At least I got that right.
“Second, there’s star anise.”
I pick up the star-shaped spice and sniff it. It reminds me of fall. I take an even deeper sniff, and it definitely has a cinnamon-like scent.
“Next, you have one of my favorite nighttime snacks,” Jessica says, rubbing her hands together like she’s about to steal some of our kernels. “Popcorn.”
I pick up a piece and pop it in my mouth. The slightest hint of salt comes through and I feel a small bubble of relief. Too salty and it might have overpowered the sweetness I have planned for it.
“Finally, you have rambutan.”
I pick up the sea urchin–looking ingredient. I’m still stumped, and I have absolutely no idea what dishes this is traditionally used in or how one would cook it.
“Get ready to create a day of meals that will blow the mind of even the pickiest young eater.” She pauses, giving time for the camera to pan over our faces. “Three. Two. One.” Another long pause. I think that this is the part I hate the most: the long, awkward pauses.
“Go.”
Just like that, we’re all sprinting across the set and into the pantry, grabbing everything we might need. Over the din of packages being opened, all of us racing back and forth, and warnings that someone is claiming the convection oven, I suddenly hear Jessica reminding us that the pantry will be closing in five minutes.
By the time I get back to my station, my arms are laboring under the weight of the ingredients. I quickly spread everything out on my counter and sort them by dishes before quickly taking inventory.
“Thirty seconds,” Jessica calls out as the timer over the pantry flashes red.
I glance at my supplies.
Something is missing, but I can’t figure out what. My mind races through each of the recipes, mentally ticking off each ingredient on my fingers. “Crap,” I say, pivoting on my heel and making a mad dash back to the pantry for rice. I barely slip between the doors as they shut, closing the pantry off for the rest of the day. I wonder what would have happened if I’d still been in the pantry when the time was up: Would they have just shut me in and left me there?
As I start getting to work, I notice that an eeriness settles over the set. It’s not silence—far from it. With the whirl of the fans keeping the equipment cool, knives against cutting boards, and the clink of pots and pans being slammed around, it’s actually pretty loud, but there is no talking. The jovial mood of the bus ride here is gone.
I guess that’s what happens when you know you have one chance to keep your dream alive or watch it collapse like a undercooked soufflé. I glance over my counter to watch Hakulani measure flour with the tiniest measuring cup set I’ve ever seen—it’s more like a thimble for a giant—and I smile.
“Do you have an Easy-Bake Oven, too?” I ask as I walk by him on my way to get a mixing bowl.
If looks could kill, I would be knocking on the pearly gates right now. “Hope your arms don’t fall off using that hand mixer,” he fires back.
After a split second, we both laugh and something about the sound breaks the tension on the set. Okay, sure. One of us is going to be leaving tonight, but that doesn’t mean we have to act like we’re at a funeral. Plus, it doesn’t make for good television.
“You know he’s going to get you back for the kitchen,” I tell Paulie as we stand next to each other at the fryers.
“Still worth it,” he says, pulling the fried dough from the hot oil.
I give him and his dish a glance. “Are you making funnel cakes?”
Paulie smiles and waggles his eyebrows at me. “Wait and see.” Then he turns on his heel and heads back to his station, and I head back to mine.
If Angelica wasn’t a fan of my fritters, I can’t imagine she would ever be happy eating a funnel cake. At least my fritter had protein; Paulie is basically serving fried carbs.
“Hey, Peyton,” Jessica says, coming over to check on me. “How are you handling the mixer situation?”
“It’s definitely a challenge,” I admit, forcing myself to smile and laugh a little. “But I have a few tricks up my sleeves.”
Jessica beams. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with. Can you give us any hints about the meal that you are creating?”
“Maybe a small one. You know how, as kids grow, they become more mature?”
Jessica laughs. “Oh yes. I’ve got three kids at home, all different ages. Trust me, I know.”
“Right,” I say, laughing with her. “As they grow, their taste in food changes too, right? So rather than focusing on one age group, I decided I want to try to elevate the taste palate for each meal. Starting with breakfast.”
Jessica nods. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Let’s hope the judges agree with you,” I say, and we both laugh.
Thankfully, Jessica doesn’t come back to my station for the rest of the prep time. It’s just the camera crew getting close-ups of my simmering pots and getting in my way as I try to pull a tray out of the oven. If they don’t watch out, they’re going to get burned. Unlike the first challenge, the time seems to go by much faster. Luckily I manage not to cut off another fingertip. Amid cooking, worrying, and plating, all of a sudden Jessica gives us the one-minute warning, and then, in what seems like ten seconds, the buzzer goes off. I throw my hands in the air just as I pop the last silicone straw into my rambutan, mango, and dragon fruit smoothie.
Hakulani leans over my station and gives me two high fives before clapping Malik on the shoulder, and I accept a hug from Paulie.
“Did you get everything done?” he asks.
I nod. “Barely. I needed every second.”
“Same,” he says, and we smile as the camera approaches.
Jessica redirects our attention as she claps for us from her host spot. “Well done, all of you. It’s always amazing how, even when using the same ingredients, chefs can come up with such different dishes! I know the judges are eager to try them, so let’s get started.”
We line up and wait as, one by one, each of us presents our dishes to Billy, Angelica, and A. J. When Jessica calls my name, I take a few seconds to collect my thoughts before walking over to her and standing in front of the judges. I played it safe and to my strengths, so I’m not presenting any questionable dishes. Overall, I feel like I created a visually appealing meal, and I used all the ingredients, so the only thing that can sink me now is bad presentation.
Jessica talks for a few more seconds before handing the floor over to me.
“Thank you, Jessica,” I say. “For today’s challenge, I wanted to explore the evolution of the childhood palate, starting with the most important time of the day and the most discerning eater of the lot.”
I don’t even know where these words are coming from, but I’m not going to
complain. “Breakfast and toddlers. For this energetic bunch and their little fingers, I created mini waffles with bacon bits, and brown sugar syrup for dipping. This dish also introduces these burgeoning foodies to the combination of sweet and savory. I’ve also paired this morning treat with a fruit smoothie.”
Not bad, I think. I managed to work in my theme and explain each dish without tripping over my tongue.
A. J. is the first to speak. “The smoothie is an inspired taste,” he says. “There’s enough of the rambutan in each sip that it’s obviously the star of the drink, while still being well balanced with the mango and dragon fruit. However, the sweetness of the smoothie and the syrup are a bit overwhelming. Each dish by itself would be delightful, but together I think they battle for dominance.”
The other judges nod in agreement. “I think that’s a great way to put it,” Billy says.
Angelica is silent, which is more unnerving than when she has something to say.
“Okay, thank you, judges,” Jessica says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s bring out your lunch.”
The cameras keep rolling, focusing on the judges as they take notes and then on my face as some PAs bring out the next set of plates. Once everything is in place, Jessica turns toward me again. “Tell us about your lunch dish.”
I nod. “This lunch is inspired by the bento boxes of Japan. The sushi is made with carrots, cucumbers, yellow and orange peppers, cream cheese, and rice rolled in nori sheets. Next, there are breaded chicken chunks with a yum-yum sauce and a salad of fresh greens. And, of course, no lunch is complete without a sweet treat, which is where the star anise shortbread cookies come in. I’ve served the meal with a set of chopsticks, in keeping with the theme.”
“Very creative,” Billy says, picking up the chopsticks and dunking a piece of chicken in the sauce.
Angelica takes a small bite of the sushi roll. “This lacks any flavor.” She reaches for a glass of water before barely dipping her chicken in the yum-yum sauce. “And you were too heavy-handed with the garlic powder in the chicken.”
A. J. looks up at me, pity flitting across his face. “Presentation-wise, this is great, but I agree with Angelica. Your pitch at the beginning of your presentation was that each course would be elevated above the last. So far, this isn’t quite cutting it.”
“Thank you, chefs,” I say. I was prepared for Angelica to criticize me—I kind of expected it after the first judging—but A. J.’s feedback feels like a blow. Maybe I was wrong, and playing it safe wasn’t the way to go, but how do you please everyone all the time? They’re all looking for something different, and it seems what they want is never what I’m offering.
The PAs set a record time for clearing and serving. It’s like even they don’t want to be on set with me.
“For your third meal,” Jessica says once the lunch boxes have been replaced with dinner, “what have you brought for us?”
I take a deep breath. “This meal is for the hungry teenager who never seems to get full. I’ve made a salami and mozzarella calzone with marinara sauce, and fried asparagus wrapped in bacon and sprinkled with parmesan. For dessert, caramel popcorn cupcakes with salted caramel buttercream frosting.”
Each judge digs into this meal. Behind my back, I cross my fingers. They have to like this one. Everything, including the dough for the calzone, was made from scratch. Without a mixer.
A. J. looks up, his mouth full of calzone. “This is good,” he says. “I think you could have done something with the crust to up the elegance of the dish, but we didn’t ask you to cater a black-tie event. We asked you to prepare a meal kids would eat.” He bites into the asparagus, chews, and once he swallows, he adds, “And that’s exactly what you have done. This is the best meal you’ve presented to us.”
Billy unwraps the cupcake. “After your key lime pie, I have high expectations for this cupcake.”
I smile. “I hope you like it.”
He takes a bite and moans. “This is what I was hoping for. The caramel corn gives an unexpected crunch, which is awesome. My only critique is that the frosting could be a little fluffier.”
Stupid Dani and her stupid sabotage.
Angelica clears her throat and I snap to attention. “Overall, it’s fine, but I have to wonder if you’re cut out for this competition.”
Suddenly, I feel like a spotlight is shining down on me and the walls are closing in. The blinking red light on the camera seems to move closer and closer until it’s a beacon. I glance at Jessica, and her eyes are as wide as mine feel.
“What do you mean by that, Angelica?” Jessica asks.
Please, let the floor open up and swallow me. Is that too much to ask?
“Nothing you’ve presented us shows me that you have what it takes to cut it in the culinary world.” That’s bad enough, but Angelica is only just getting started.
“So far, it’s been twists on simple dishes—diner food and daycare treats. The winner of this competition is going to be someone who is going to take chances, be innovative, and be passionate about their creations. With the exception of your desserts, Peyton, I’m just not sure that you have found your drive or your passion yet. You are just okay.”
The entire set goes silent and, in that moment, it’s like Angelica and I are the only ones here. Then, after what seems like a lifetime, Billy coughs gently. A. J. shifts in his seat but keeps his eyes on the plate in front of him.
“While I don’t completely agree with my wife’s assessment,” Billy says, giving Angelica a loaded glance, “I do agree that the one thing your food doesn’t seem to capture is your love of cooking. That said, I see potential in what you’ve presented, and if you can find a way to bring that out in your food, I think you’ll do just fine.”
Somehow, I manage a quiet “Thank you, chef,” before stumbling back to my place in line.
Of course, Dani is next to present, and her first dish is met with glowing compliments.
“You okay?” Hakulani whispers as the PAs start to bring out her next set of dishes.
“Great,” I whisper back, my throat growing hot. “I mean, I’m obviously going home tonight, but otherwise I’m doing great.”
He doesn’t say anything else, because what can he say? That I’m not leaving? I listen as the judges go on and on about Dani’s food and her clever use of color. Every word I hear is like a knife stabbing into my very essence.
When we finally cut so the crew can reset for the elimination, my legs feel like they’re cement. It isn’t until Paulie grabs my arm and practically drags me back to the waiting room that I remember how to put one foot in front of the other. He doesn’t talk to me, though a couple of the other cast members try to. But all I can think is that they’re glad it’s me and not them on the chopping block this time. They can all breathe a little easier now because there is no way Angelica is going to let me through to next week.
Silently, Paulie guides me to one of the stools in the waiting room, and I drop my head to the table hoping to avoid any further looks of pity. Angelica’s words ring through my brain. “Okay,” I mutter to myself, “she said I’m just okay.”
Except for your desserts, I remind myself. My throat gets even tighter, and I think: Screw the power of positive thinking.
After a few minutes, a PA comes to collect us, and the disembodied voice tells us to line up, so I start to prepare for my imminent departure as I force myself back to my spot. As Jessica announces that Lola is the winner of this week’s elimination challenge, the disembodied voice tells me to look more excited. Easy for him to say.
Jessica goes on to tick off the rest of the top six, and it’s no surprise to hear that I’m in the bottom two. What is surprising is that Adam is standing next to me. However, unlike me, who probably looks like someone stole my dog and set fire to my house, Adam is staring straight ahead at the judges’ table with defiance—like he is daring them to send him home. I glance at him and he is holding his head high and meets each judge’s gaze, and right now,
I would give anything to be more like him.
I’m so sure that it’s my name Jessica is going to call, so consumed by the inevitable demise of my dreams, that it doesn’t register when Jessica announces who is going home. It isn’t until Adam puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me into a hug that I realize it’s not me. It’s him. Instinctively, I hug him back, and despite the relief rushing through my body, I wonder: How is this possible?
“Don’t trust any of them,” Adam whispers in my ear before giving me a final squeeze. Before I can ask him what he means, the rest of the cast descends on us. Everyone looks as stunned and confused as I feel. Adam could have been a fan favorite, and he can certainly cook better than me. Heck, I was even thinking about trying to incorporate a few vegetarian recipes into my arsenal after tasting his portobello burger last night. But somehow he is going home, and I’m staying.
Adam has only a couple of minutes to say goodbye before he turns and walks through a set of doors on the far side of the set. We are asked to return to our marks as Jessica wraps up with the show’s tagline, and then the cameras cut off. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angelica and Billy in a quiet, heated conversation. Then Billy quickly stands up from the judges’ table and storms away toward his dressing room. A. J. follows him, his cell phone pressed against his ear.
Inaaya comes up to me, blocking the rest of the scene as she links her arm with mine. Inside, I’m a fireworks display of emotions. Obviously, I’m glad and relieved that I managed to survive the elimination round, but Adam’s warning rings in my ears. Don’t trust any of them. Who is them?
Inaaya is saying something to me, but I can’t seem to follow any of it. Malik glances my way and gives me a weak smile before leaving the set without a word to anyone. In the back of my mind, I acknowledge his behavior is kind of odd, but I’m still trying to figure out how I was spared and Adam was sent packing. The one thing I know for sure is that unless I do something drastic, there might not be another miracle in my future. Fun and games are over—now it’s all about survival.
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