Fire In the Kitchen (10 page)

“Welcome to the top thirty, everyone. You’ve been chosen from over two thousand hopefuls. You’ve all proven you deserve to be here.”

Cassidy applauded along with the other contestants.

“Sorry to say this,” Valerie continued, “but there’s no time for you to rest on your laurels.” She walked over to the contestant who’d asked the earlier question. “So, Jack, any idea what your first challenge is going to be?”

“To figure out what the bloody challenge is?” he replied, and everyone laughed.

“Cut,” the producer yelled. “Okay, Valerie, that was good. Jack, say it again without the colorful word. Kids will love this show and we want to keep our PG rating.”

“Shit, sorry,” Jack replied, and the producer rolled his eyes. This competitor couldn’t say one sentence without throwing in a swear word. He may be a great chef, but if he didn’t curb it, he was going to try everyone’s patience. Two swear words and three takes later, they were ready to continue.

“We’re not going to keep you in suspense,” Valerie said, smiling for the cameras and casting her gaze on the contestants. “You’re all great at creating culinary masterpieces, but how organized and tidy are you in the kitchen?”

Strike one against me.

“Tidy benches, immaculate dishes. In this challenge, it’s not just the food you’ll be tested on, but how you manage your workspaces. On a television show, appearances count. If everything’s not spotless when time’s up, your team will be disqualified from the challenge, and the competition.”

Valerie pointed to twenty miniature pitchforks that were in a garden bed in a resident’s front yard.

“We need two teams. Whoever chooses the two garden tools with the golden prongs will captain them. Do we have a volunteer to go first?”

“I will,” Cassidy said, fearing her first challenge would be her last. How could having a clean benchtop equate to being creative with food?

She selected one of the pitchforks and pulled it out of the dirt. The prongs were silver, not gold.

Strike two.

She watched Dante select a fork with gold prongs. Jack, their swearing competitor, picked the other golden fork.

“Bloody brilliant, mate,” he said and put his hands over his mouth as the director yelled cut and told him to rephrase his response.

“Congratulations, Dante and Jack. Two
very
different competitors. Choose your team members one at a time, gentlemen.”

Cassidy was sure Dante would pick her for his team. They were in this together, weren’t they?

Jack won the toss and chose first. “I choose Antonio, the Pasta King.” Antonio was the one who had been speaking behind Cassidy’s back when she’d arrived. She watched him bow and wink at the camera.

The producer called out to him, “Okay, let’s do that again, Antonio. Pretend the cameras aren’t there, please.”

Jack and Dante took it in turns to choose their teammates. As Cassidy waited to be chosen, her feelings changed from excitement, to impatience, to worry.

Oh please, please don’t let me be the last one. Don’t do this to me, Dante.

She wondered if Dante fathomed every time he chose another person to be on his team, he moved a step further away from her. Her palms started to sweat and she wiped them down her jeans.

I hate him.

Her fears became a reality. She was the last person left, discarded by both teams as the joker in the deck. She didn’t know who or what to look at—her feet or her fellow competitors, who were all looking at her with a mixture of pity and relief that they weren’t standing in her place. And then there was Dante, who refused to meet her eye, or the camera lens that was so close to her she wanted to spit on it, if only her mouth wasn’t so dry.

Strike three.
Game over
.
The one person she thought was her friend in this place was anything but.

Valerie walked over to Cassidy and placed her hand on her forearm. She squeezed it, but it didn’t feel comforting. It felt like the grip of a boa constrictor.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, we all feel for you. For every winner, another must come last. This time it appears to be ever so public and humiliating. Dante, would you please put this poor girl out of her misery?”

Dante coughed. He shrugged and put his hands in the air with a lopsided grin, beckoning her to come and join them. She did so, but stood as far away from him as possible. Now she had no one.

“Right,” Valerie continued. “Your first group challenge takes place on this beautiful suburban street.”

Cassidy allowed herself a moment of appreciation before things got tougher.

Valerie’s voice was a distant rumble. “It’s movie night for the locals, and we’ve promised them a viewing of
Roman Holiday
at precisely seven thirty p.m. on that large screen at the end of this cul-de-sac. Of course, you can’t watch a great movie without fantastic food, so dinner will be served during the opening credits. We want spectacular food that is good enough to serve to royalty.”

“How is it going to work?” Dante asked. “That’s hours away from now. Are we travelling somewhere else to an industrial kitchen?”

The other contestants leaned forward to hear the answer.

Valerie smiled at him. A seductive smile. Cassidy couldn’t decide if it was reserved for Dante or the viewers. If it was aimed just at Dante, she could have him. The initial attraction Cassidy had felt toward him had withered. Life was too short to settle for a man who wouldn’t treat her the way she would treat him.

Valerie responded to Dante’s query, “Welcome to the wonderful world of television. As it’s not live now, everything will be prepared in advance. White team, you have this house on the left side of the street, black, you have the house opposite on the right.”

“But how are we supposed to fit fifteen chefs in each family kitchen?” Carlos said, and the rest of the competitors murmured their puzzlement.

“That’s part of the
fun
. They aren’t commercial kitchens, but we’ve provided you with as much extra equipment as the spaces will allow. Please put your appropriate aprons on.”

Dante and Jack were handed baskets with aprons for each of them to distribute to their team.

Valerie continued, “You must prepare a colorful Italian feast for your guests to eat while they enjoy a classic black-and-white film. If anything is left on the benchtops, the whole team is out and you get to watch the rest of the series from home. If the benches and sinks are clean, you may live to cook with us another day. If both teams are tidy in equal measure, it’s all about the food.”

Carlos was also on Dante’s team. He’d been the third last to be chosen before Cassidy had been left by default. Even though there was animosity between him and his cousin, Dante had still chosen him over her. One added insult for the food scrap heap.

Carlos looked Cassidy up and down and spoke up. “Are you saying if one team member lets us down by being untidy, we’re all out?”

“That’s right.” Valerie nodded.

“It seems the black team has the advantage,” Carlos said, raising his hands in the air. “We all saw the auditions. Doesn’t seem very fair. We didn’t ask for the wild card in the pack.”

“Give her a break, Carlos.” Dante’s voice was calm, but his arms were crossed. “We all have our faults. You should know, you keep telling everyone about mine.” His body language spoke volumes. “I’ll look out for her.”

A lump formed in Cassidy’s throat. She didn’t know what was worse—her public humiliation from Carlos, saying she was the thorn in their team’s side, or Dante’s reaction, confirming he didn’t think she had what it took to succeed in this competition. Both reinforced her feeling that she wasn’t as good as these qualified chefs because she was
just a barista who liked to cook
.

She reminded herself she’d won her right to be there in the auditions by cooking fantastic food. So she’d show them, she’d show them all. Starting now. She slowly looked at every member of the white team. They could all
get forked
.

“How
heroic
of you, Dante,” she said. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, everyone. And thanks for making me feel such a welcome member of your team.”

“It was a strategic decision,” Dante said. “We’ve all known each other for a long time and I chose everyone for their strengths.”

The others nodded their agreement, but they didn’t appear as apologetic as Dante. Carlos waved his hand to dismiss Cassidy and spoke to Dante. “And she’s our weakness.”

“That’s enough.” Dante pointed his index finger at Carlos. “It’s time to talk about the food we are going to prepare together.”

Cassidy decided it was time to be herself again and enjoy the cooking task instead of psychoanalyzing everything going on around her. In less surreal surroundings, she was always happy to go with the flow. If this was to be her first and last challenge, she would cook up a storm and go out with full masts sailing in the wind.

As Cassidy watched Dante bring their team together, showcasing his expertise as the famous head chef he was, she begrudgingly admitted he was a great leader. They’d given him a tall chef’s hat to wear and the rest of them wore white caps with the show’s logo.

They finished their game plan in the home’s living room. They decided on a menu in collaboration. Deciding to ponder on her shaky team start later, Cassidy became excited by the culinary banter and wanted to contribute.

“How about risotto?” she suggested. “It suits the theme of the evening, it’s traditional, and it’s delicious.”

“It’s also the death dish,” Carlos said. “Every time a television cooking show competitor has tried to make one, they’ve failed.”

“I know.” Cassidy’s eyes shone. “That’s why I suggested it. If we make it right, it could be a real showstopper.”

“And if we make it wrong,” Dante said, shaking his head, “we all go home. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but now is the time to play safe so we can all make it through to the next stage.”

Cassidy nodded and allowed herself to blend back into the background as they decided on the evening’s menu. The atmosphere was electric.

She was becoming used to being filmed and quickly learning to be more concerned about the food, which was the way it should have been.

As the kitchen inside was very small, the group made their way to the patio and decided to make use of the outdoor kitchen. The area was a bachelor’s paradise. It even had a large beer fridge.

“Right, everyone, there’s no budget, so grab all the best ingredients in the food truck outside with abandon.”

Dante delegated all the chefs to their tasks and, as they were professionals, they needed limited instruction. He left Cassidy ’til last. He walked toward her with an apologetic expression. “Cassidy, I…”

She put her hand out to him like a school traffic warden. “Don’t.”

“It wasn’t personal. My choices were pivotal to this challenge,” he said. “Can we talk about this later, without the whole country hearing what we have to say?”

The smile she gave him did not extend to her eyes. “Not necessary. Let’s get on with it. What would you like me to cook,
Chef
?”

“You can have the kitchen inside since we’re running out of room here. I think you’d be best preparing a dish ahead of time that won’t make much mess.”

Cassidy crossed her arms as she walked back to the inside kitchen, knowing he’d follow.

“Such as?”

“Bruschetta.”

Cassidy counted to five inside her mind. “You want me to spend two hours making tomatoes on toast?” She felt her teeth starting to grind. “Right.”

“Yes,” Dante replied. “It’ll give you plenty of time to clean up—you know if we don’t have clean work areas at the end of the day, we’re all out. You heard what Valerie said.” He watched her looking inside the refrigerator. “What are you looking for?”

“Yeast.” Cassidy shrugged. “If I’m going to serve up a simple offering, I may as well make it spectacular with homemade bread. I can do it. Trust me.”

“As team leader, I have the last say in determining the ingredients.” He pointed to shrewdly placed sponsored supermarket bags on the table. “Even though they’re not from where I’d have liked to have purchased them, I’ve already selected ciabatta loaves. Please keep to the plan—if you’re ahead of time, you can help one of us plate up.”

“Yes, that will really showcase my cooking talents,” she replied as sweetly as she could to slice through the layer of sarcasm.

“Can we get a move on?” Dante grew impatient. “We have to get started. I’m on main and I’ve got a lot to do in between delegating.”

“You’d better get out there so you can work with the team.” Cassidy washed her hands and waited to hear his footsteps walking away so she could feel safe to turn around again without having to look at him.

“Oh, Cassidy,” he called out. She swiveled around to face the man across the room who she’d wanted to kiss that morning but now wanted to strangle. “Please keep it clean. We all saw the aftermath of your audition tornado.”

She saluted him as he left the kitchen.

In less than half an hour, Cassidy had sliced the bread, seasoned it, and rubbed it with fresh garlic. She’d diced a dozen fresh vine-ripened Roma tomatoes and—after generously seasoning them—had tossed them with more garlic, finely chopped red onions, basil and extra virgin olive oil. It was too early to toast the bread and top the slices with the filling.

She wiped down the kitchen benches. Twice.

Is that all I’m destined to do these days?

After she prepared the platters for presentation, there was nothing left for her to do. She felt awkward every time the cameramen approached.

She went outside for a while to try to help the others, but was firmly rejected.

Back inside, she was itching to showcase her talents and started to look in the larder, fridge, and cupboards for inspiration. They’d been told earlier they could use anything the owners had in their kitchens.

She found a packet of Arborio rice and enough extra garlic in the larder to kill a hundred vampires. Then she found the mother-lode of her favorite ingredient in a dark corner of the pantry. In a cardboard box was a home mushroom farm overflowing with a large, glorious flush. Cheeks red with excitement, she found a bottle of chardonnay, good quality liquid stock, and the remaining ingredients to make a traditional Risotto ai Funghi.