Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kat
Clarissa collected the judge’s ratings for the first-round while Miles and I got to work preparing the main dishes.
I felt blindsided when I saw what Miles had prepared for his appetizer.
Was he trying to lose on purpose? I pushed the thoughts out of my head and tried to focus on the main course instead of entertaining the thoughts that wanted to consume my mind about how Miles got what he wanted from me and no longer cared about the stupid competition he’d started.
I kept myself busy, working diligently as the quail that I’d prepared roasted in the oven.
I’d decided to go with a lavender balsamic vinegar and chardonnay reduction, which smelled heavenly.
Once it was finished, I served it over a side of camembert cheese grits and added another drizzle of the sauce over the dish.
I wiped each plate clean, set them on the serving counter, and then stepped to the side as Miles brought his plates over.
My heart hammered in my chest as I noticed that Miles had chosen another basic dish.
When I’d gone into the walk-in freezer earlier, I saw the rack of lamb sitting to the side with the other items he’d requested.
But what he’d prepared was bacon cheeseburgers with thinly sliced avocado and freshly made sweet potato fries with some sort of dipping sauce.
I glanced nervously at him, wondering what in the world he was up to.
“Kat, we’ll start with you again,” Clarissa announced, drawing my attention to her.
I straightened my spine and clasped my hands in front of me while the servers delivered the dishes.
I cleared my throat and then began speaking.
“I’ve prepared an oven-roasted quail glazed with a lavender balsamic vinegar and chardonnay reduction, served over camembert cheese grits.”
I pulled my lips into a thin line and waited anxiously for their reactions.
The two women judging the competition closed their eyes and moaned as they chewed. Luka’s face was unreadable—which was even more unnerving—while the other guy seemed to enjoy it but didn’t make a big show of it.
“Alright, judges, what do you think?” Clarissa asked cheerfully as the camera guy followed her around to the judge's table.
“Incredible,” one woman sighed.
The other two nodded and took another bite, murmuring something along the lines of it being delicious.
Luka swallowed his bite and wiped his mouth with a napkin before looking directly at me.
“You are quite talented, Ms. Elliott. I see why you’re the executive chef at such a prestigious restaurant.”
I swallowed the ball of emotion that was now lodged in my throat and smiled.
Clarissa beamed proudly at me and then shifted the focus to Miles’ dish.
I tried to listen as he explained the simplicity of what he’d prepared, but I couldn’t stop obsessing over Luka’s compliment.
If I could impress him, then there was the possibility that I might be able to work for him someday, and that was mind-blowing.
Studying under Luka Fagiolo was something that I’d wanted for as long as I could remember and to know that this might have put me slightly closer to that dream was equally exciting and nerve-wracking.
We still had to prepare a dessert, which was not my strong suit.
Miles had finished talking while the judges eagerly devoured his food, tossing compliments his way as easily as the people who hovered around you on the Las Vegas strip, trying to give you cards with naked women on them.
I pushed the irritation out of my head and went to my station to start working on the next dish.
Everything was going well with my Honey Crisp apple pie until we got down to the last twenty minutes. I’d already baked the pie, minus the top of the crust since it was going to be thinner and a more intricate design that wouldn’t take long to cook.
I’d already pulled the pie out and was letting it cool on the rack while I tried cutting out the designs.
My fingers were shaky, but I’d also somehow messed up this part of the dough because it wasn’t as firm as it was supposed to be and kept crumbling and breaking every time I tried to cut a design.
I didn’t have time now to make another crust and bake it. This was the only crust that I had, and it was quickly turning into a mess.
I was going to lose the stupid competition and, even worse, make a bad impression on Luka when he saw that I couldn’t even bake a simple apple pie.
The clock was ticking loudly in my head as my anxiety skyrocketed. I glanced at Miles to see him peacefully working as if he had no cares in the world. He stepped away from his dessert, smiled at it, then relaxed against the counter.
I was struggling to fix my mess with less than twenty minutes to spare, and he was already done and sailing through another round.
I shook my head and forced myself to be calm as I tried to cut another piece of crust. You can do this. You HAVE to do this. Just move slowly, and don’t let it break.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered loud enough for Miles to look over at me. With his brows pulled together, he came over and stood next to me, looking at the pile of dough pieces scattered on the counter covered in flour.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, shielding us from the judges.
“I was trying to do an elaborate crust design and must’ve missed something because this is not how it’s supposed to look. It just crumbles.” I pointed to them and rolled my neck, trying to ease some of the tension that was quickly mounting.
I looked up at him helplessly as Clarissa called out the fifteen-minute warning.
“Okay, it’s not a big deal,” he assured me, looking around the counter at the pie on the cooling rack and the mess I’d made.
“It’s a huge deal. I have nothing to serve,” I grumbled, suddenly feeling defeated as I tossed the towel behind me into the sink.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, looking me in the eyes.
“Yes.” I spat out the answer before thinking and noticed how easily it came out. I did trust him, though he’d never given me a reason not to. It was just men in general that I didn’t trust, but we didn’t have time to unpack that right now.
“Okay, let’s do this,” he said, giving me an ear-to-ear smile that forced the corners of my lips up.
I watched in horror as he used two forks and crumbled the pie and crust together, making an absolute disaster out of the beautiful pie I’d made.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, my eyes wide in disbelief.
“You’ll see.” He winked and rushed to the freezer, then came back with a carton of vanilla ice cream.
I watched as he grabbed four bowls, scooped a serving of ice cream into each one, and then topped it with the pie mixture. He used a fork to pick a big slice of Honey Crisp apple to be the focal point for each bowl, then dusted them with cinnamon and wiped the inside of the bowls.
He stood back and placed his hands on his hips, smiling proudly.
“Five minutes,” Clarissa called out.
“Okay, get those over to the table before you run out of time.” He gave me a quick pat on the shoulder and then returned to his station to get his dish to the serving counter.
I stood there shocked for a few seconds, then got my ass in gear and rushed them over to the counter just in time. I smiled at Miles, mouthing a quick thank you before we both turned our attention to the judges.
“Kat, please tell us what you’ve prepared for dessert this evening,” Clarissa said.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that I had no idea what to call whatever this was that Miles helped me create. I turned my head slightly toward him.
“Deconstructed Honey Crisp apple pie,” he muttered quietly, keeping his head straight and barely moving his lips.
“It’s, um, a deconstructed honey crisp apple pie served over vanilla ice cream and sprinkled with cinnamon on top.”
The judges studied it, then nodded as they dove in. The hard part was over, so I took a deep breath and allowed myself to relax. I was finally able to listen as Miles explained his caramel cheesecake bars that he’d been serving at the food truck and were wildly popular.
A few minutes later, we returned to our stations, and Clarissa joined us while the judges talked amongst themselves, deciding on a winner for the night.
The kitchen staff was huddled in the corner, equally as excited.
Soon, we would know who the winner of the competition was, and I felt like that meant more to me than it should have.