Chapter 20 #2
When Ronan called time, Lucas, Dwayne, and the rest of the contestants lined up along the back of the tent to face the verdict of the judges.
Lucas was acutely aware of the difference between his bake and Clem’s as he placed his picnic basket full of bread down in front of him.
He’d arranged it lovingly, the basket half open so the judges could see the assortment of breads sticking out, their scents wafting across the tent.
But there was no denying that some of his bread had come out far smaller than it was meant to be – and the crumb structure of the sourdough in particular wasn’t right, gaping tunnels running through the loaf.
His jaw hardened. He wasn’t happy with that but there was nothing he could do about it.
By contrast, Clem’s bake looked stunning.
The kitten buns were connected together – as share bread.
They were a shade of dark amber, lighter on the edges, sets of cat paws jutting out from each bun, the faces perfectly decorated with little whiskers, noses, and eyes.
Some of the eyes were curved to create a happy, smiling cat, others were sideways V’s to show an expression of mischief.
They had a glazed look, shining in spite of the gloomy day.
To go along with the kittens, there was another, larger loaf of tiger bread, crusty and thick, and shaped to look like a giant mother cat, complete with whisker-like indents and thick, doughy paws.
Lucas swallowed. Her bake was perfect.
Clem’s head was raised, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans and her shoulders straight.
Sylvie caught Lucas looking and smiled at him, mouthing Good luck .
Hesitant, he sent her a smile of his own and a nod.
Had Clem not told her anything about what had happened between them?
He felt a flutter of appreciation. He knew he’d hurt her and she had every right to complain to others about it.
Like vultures, the judges began stalking their way up the table, observing the bakes, with Ronan at the head of the group, leading his flock. When he reached Lucas and Dwayne, he paused and adjusted his tie, inhaling deeply and flicking a dazzling smile at the camera.
‘Ah, I love bread week!’ he said, smacking his lips overly theatrically. ‘The smell never gets old.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘What have we got here? Can you tell us what you’ve made, Lucas?’
‘It’s an assortment of breads we sell at Muddy Paws Café, made up in a picnic basket,’ he explained. ‘It represents the summer experience we offer. Dog walkers, hikers, travellers – if people aren’t staying for coffee, they can take something away with them for a picnic by the lake.’
‘Ah, excellent,’ said Ronan, leaning closer and breathing in the scent of the bread.
‘A wonderful concept,’ Laurette offered. ‘Although it does look like you’ve under-proved some of it.’
‘Can we try a bit of everything?’ said Jonathan.
‘Go ahead.’ Lucas gestured at the basket, and the judges dug in. He glanced at Dwayne, who gave him a nod, and Lucas began explaining to the judges what the different types of bread were inside the basket.
When everything had been nibbled on at least once, Ronan looked up, still clutching half a slice of banana bread.
‘The taste is wonderful, especially the banana bread,’ he decided.
‘The flatbread especially is my favourite – the herbs and the garlic work well and the crust is perfectly crispy. Sadly, the sourdough is weak – Laurette is right, definitely under-prooved. The crumb has far too much tunnelling. Look at those gaping holes!’
‘The texture is also quite . . .’ Viviana paused, as if searching for the right word.
She still held a piece of sourdough, like she didn’t want to finish the rest of it.
Lucas’s stomach clenched. ‘It’s gummy,’ she concluded.
‘And the flavour is bland, which is a shame because your flatbread is so delicious.’
‘The banana bread is delicious, though,’ said Jonathan, going back for seconds. ‘The banana flavour is well balanced – not too overwhelming. And I love the hints of cinnamon and the chopped walnuts. A great touch.’
Jonathan was peering into the basket again, as if searching for a visible mistake. ‘Such a shame about the sourdough,’ he concluded. ‘The English muffins don’t seem to have risen high enough, either. They’ve collapsed.’
Lucas didn’t know what to say – he nodded mechanically, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t showing.
His hopes of getting through this round were slowly sinking.
What the hell had he done wrong? Was his head not in the game, like Dwayne had said, because he’d been too focused on Clem?
Or had he been too worried about his father after what happened at the hospital?
When the judges moved on to Clem standing beside him, more of his hope ebbed away, and he risked a look in her direction. She was holding back a smile, and Sylvie had hooked an arm through hers in support.
Ronan studied her bake with an unreadable look on his face. ‘And can you tell me about your bread today, ladies?’
‘The main loaf is a mother cat,’ Clem explained.
‘It’s a fairly common recipe with my own spin on it, and we worked together on it.
The kitten buns for sharing are Hokkaido milk bread – I used the tangzhong method for those.
Both bakes represent our work with a cat shelter, and our care for all cats.
Last winter we had an incident during a snowstorm where a pregnant stray cat was found.
The cat ended up going to Sylvie with one of her kittens, and our delivery driver adopted one of the others.
We had planned to have one more bread-kitten here, but .
. . well . . . There was a minor mishap in the kitchen. ’
‘Ah, yes, we saw,’ said Laurette, smiling in amusement.
‘Well, in any case, it’s a lovely theme and concept,’ Ronan said. ‘And it looks marvellous – such a wonderful presentation.’
The other judges nodded in agreement. Lucas glanced along the table. Everyone else had gone all out, too: there was an impressive, intricate star bread with chutney, and a collection of breads shaped like mushrooms – although that one did look wonky, more like a sad, melting village.
Behind Clem, Sylvie was squeezing her hand tightly.
Lucas looked away, focusing hard on the judges, rather than on Clem’s face.
Fear was chewing away at him. If he’d never kissed her back, never offered to help out in the first place .
. . Why had he allowed her to distract him like this?
What had he been thinking? He could end up kicked out of the competition and then what would his parents do?
They could end up homeless and he knew he would blame himself for not keeping his head in the game.
The judges broke apart Clem’s kitten buns first, sharing them around. They chewed thoughtfully.
‘It’s beautifully soft,’ Ronan said.
‘The sweetness is good too,’ Laurette added, holding a tiny piece of milk bread between her delicate fingers. ‘The texture is perfect – the tangzhong has worked so well to make everything tender and fluffy, as milk bread should be.’
‘You must have worked hard to get this right,’ said Viviana. ‘The wispiness is gorgeous . . . It melts in your mouth.’ She peered down at the share bread, where their pieces had been torn off. ‘The way you’ve shaped and decorated these is beautiful too. I love the faces.’
‘Perfectly in keeping with the theme,’ Jonathan agreed.
The judges moved on to the main tiger loaf, slicing into it, the slices coming away with a crunch-crunch of the knife. They appeared extremely happy with this bread, too, smiling and nodding as they bit into it.
‘Excellent,’ Ronan commented. ‘It’s not often I’m speechless but I can’t think of anything to say to you except praise.’ He held out his hand to Clem, offering her a handshake.
Clem looked like she was going to cry, even though she was grinning widely. She blinked and reached out to shake Ronan’s hand.
‘Brilliant work, Clem,’ said Jonathan, giving her a wink as the judges moved away from her.
Lucas’s heart was hammering, and he was nauseous.
The others seemed to pass with flying colours, too – except the bakers of the mushroom bread, who were from the little farm shop over in Kendal.
They were on par with Lucas when it came to the coolness of the judges’ comments.
Viviana said the mushrooms looked like Halloween decorations, instead of being cosy and inviting as they were meant to be.
The judges went away to deliberate.
When they finally returned, and assembled at the top of the tent to reveal who would be leaving, Lucas’s ribcage twisted uncomfortably, because he had a horrible feeling he knew who it was.
I’m done , he thought. Completely done. He hadn’t been creative enough. A picnic basket? Why couldn’t he have done something more intricate? And why had he let himself down with the sourdough and the muffins?
‘Everyone did their best this week, and you should all be proud of yourselves and what you’ve accomplished,’ said Ronan.
The camera panned across the contestants, collecting shots of expectant faces. Lucas’s shoulders were tense; he was working hard to keep his nerves from being obvious to everyone.
‘We’ve thought long and hard and come to a unanimous decision. We’ll be sorry to let this pair go. They’ve been so imaginative and skilled with their creations, and we know everyone else loves them, too. They just had a bad week, unfortunately. And everyone else upped their game.’
Lucas closed his eyes. It was him.