Chapter 30 Phoebe #2
Dakota Dallas is checking in with each team to see what they’re making.
I don’t know what the other teams have planned.
We may be the only cookie bakers. I’m okay with that.
We were allowed to bring some premixed, prebaked items from home, so we have our regular sugar cookie dough chilled and ready to go, but we want to show off our no-chill version.
It’s still delicious and easy to work with, and it goes from mixer to cookie cutter right away.
Since we’re combating hot studio lights, we have a trick up our sleeve and set the mixing bowl in a tub of ice to keep the butter at the cooler temperature we need.
We’re rolling out the dough when Dakota gets to our station.
“Hello, Hockey Honeys. We know you’re used to the ice rink, how are you handling the heat of the kitchen?” he asks with a smarmy smile like he’s clever. I can see the earpiece—he must be getting fed lines from production.
“We like it hot.” I give a saucy wink and glance at Ollie, where he sits in the third row. He blushes bright red above his beard.
“I bet you do!” He gives us an exaggerated wink that I’m glad the guys can’t see because there would be some growling going on. “So, what are you making today? Cookies? Doesn’t your dough need to chill before rolling it out and using cookie cutters?”
“Usually it does, Dakota, but we’ve developed a no-chill vanilla sugar cookie dough that, under normal circumstances, can go right from the mixer to the rolling pin without being chilled first. Today, we’re resting our baking sheets on chill pads to keep the dough cool under the lights, and the mixing bowl is resting in a bowl of ice. ”
“Isn’t it better to use a traditionally chilled dough?” he asks. He’s obviously being fed these questions.
“The dough we typically use is chilled,” Andie says, “but there are times when we get last-minute rush orders. Today, we’re baking under hot studio lights with a ticking clock.” She shrugs. “You gotta adapt. That’s what Snarky Sweet does, we adapt.”
I love that she worked in our actual business name.
Dakota smiles at her like he wants to take a giant sip, and I hear a single “yip” from the crowd. Ollie murmurs, “Bless you,” to Colby, but that wasn’t a sneeze. I know they’ll edit it out post-production. Andie is frozen, so I take over.
“And I’m the snarky one,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Oh, so you bite,” he says.
I chuckle. “No bite, but I do have a six-foot-nine Bigfoot shifter fiancé who can toss full-grown pine trees around like they’re toothpicks.”
Dakota pales slightly under his fake tan. Good. Anyone who knows Ollie knows he’s a gentle giant, but there’s no reason to let Guy Smiley here in on that fact.
“Yeah, well, I’ll let you get back to baking,” he says meekly before slinking off.
Andie and I don’t dare look at each other, but I make the mistake of looking at my sister.
She and Daphne are both giving me two thumbs-up, and I need to duck down and pretend to look for something in the mini fridge at our station until I can compose myself.
I’m conscious of wearing a microphone, so I can’t set the snort-laugh free that I’m desperate to.
I pop back up after a minute because even if I’m an immature twit, I have a job to do.
And for the next half hour, I’m busy stirring and timing and decorating, and I barely have time to think about the audience or skeevy Dakota Dallas or anything but cookies.
Dakota is wandering through the audience, talking to the supporters of the different teams. I wonder if he’s going to approach our friends and family or if he’s too afraid.
When I hear Ollie’s voice, I look up, surprised Dakota is risking it.
“How does it feel watching your fiancée compete? You’re used to being in the spotlight, and now you’re on the sidelines. Does that bother you?”
What the fuck? This is a lighthearted baking competition for the family to watch, not a hard-hitting journalistic interview with Dakota channeling his inner cable news host.
“I’m incredibly proud of Phoebe,” Ollie says. “Andie too. They’ve worked hard to get here, and I’m happy to be on the sidelines cheering them on every chance I get. I prefer not to be in the spotlight—let me be in the shadows doing my thing.”
Oh my god, that was basically 10,000 words for him. I’m trying to concentrate on this petal, but I’m almost glowing and vibrating. That many words from a man like Ollie feels like a better gift than the ring hanging around my neck.
We’re done a few minutes early, but they want us to look stressed, so we start decorating the spare cookies and saying the typical things like, “How much time is left?” Andie drops one of the spare cookies so we can overreact like it’s a giant catastrophe.
The other teams are truly having meltdowns, so I feel guilty that we’re pretending to falter.
Hopefully it’s that we’re so organized and good at what we’re doing and not that we’re making something too simplistic.
The audience counts down the last few seconds, and Andie and I do the classic hands-up-and-step-back maneuver that’s standard in baking competitions.
We decided I’ll be the one to present our cookies to the judges because Andie is more likely to apologize to the judges if they criticize, where I can answer questions and probably not cuss.
A production assistant will put our plates before the judge when it’s our turn to be critiqued.
We’re lined up in order of our cooking stations, so I’m the last one.
They critique each team in turn. First up is team Cake Daddy, a father/daughter baking team from a small town on the Delaware Bay who made mini rosewater-flavored bundt cakes with candied violets decorating them.
They are pretty, but apparently, they went heavy on the rose water, so as Paulie so eloquently put it, “I feel like I’m eating perfume. ” Not a good impression.
The second team I call Team Karen. They own a bakery near Philly, and they made cinnamon rolls with thinly sliced apples that look like blooming roses.
They’re beautiful, but the judges agreed with my private opinion that they looked more appropriate for an autumn brunch treat than for a spring bridal shower.
Even worse, the rose water they used was overpowered by the cinnamon and apple, so it wasn’t noticeable at all.
The biggest sin was that they used store-bought puff pastry because it would save time.
Biff was aghast. “You know these types of competitions have tight time constraints. Why plan something that takes so much time to do right that you must cut corners to accomplish it? It’s a baking competition.
We expect things to be done from scratch.
You were allowed to bring in premixed doughs from home. I don’t get it.”
The poor woman with her “I’d like to speak with your manager” haircut looks near tears, and my heart aches for her. As much as I want us to win, I don’t like seeing someone else devastated.
Team three calls themselves the Sweet Sorority Sisters because they met in college over a decade ago.
They’re a pair of home bakers like me and Andie, but other than that, they’re nothing like us.
The size of the diamonds on their wedding rings, as well as the smooth, Botoxed planes of their faces, reveal they married extremely well.
They’re both blonde, thin, and tan. There’s a joke about never trusting a skinny baker, but it appears the judges like the chamomile cupcakes with honey buttercream frosting they made.
They were elegant in the simplicity of their offerings.
A tasteful swirl of frosting and a fresh chamomile blossom on top.
They look like the perfect treat for a shower held at a country club.
Team four is a couple of dude bro twin brother bakers from North Jersey, cut from the same cloth as Paulie.
They look like they spend more time in the gym than in the kitchen.
It takes every ounce of my restraint not to roll my eyes when Mario or Luigi—okay, not their real names, but close enough—gives me a chin nod and a whispered Joey Tribbiani, “How you doin’?
” while we wait for our turns to be judged.
Ollie stares at him, and dude bro lets out a barely audible whimper.
Things get testy when he’s questioned about the lack of a floral element in their individual apple upside-down cakes.
“Apples and cinnamon,” Luigi, or maybe Mario, says, like Biff’s an idiot for asking. He gives Paulie a “Can you believe this guy?” look that Paulie ignores.
“Apples are a fruit,” Felicia says. “And cinnamon comes from the bark of trees.”
“Apples come from apple blossoms,” and he does the mic drop gesture like he schooled all of us. Whatever the decision on the apple-is-a-flower debate, they baked good cakes.
Now it’s our turn. I take a deep breath to steady myself as the plates containing one of each cookie are placed in front of each judge.
These are the six most important cookies of my life.
Felicia tries my hydrangea cookie first, and her brows shoot up in surprise.
Paulie and Biff are sampling Andie’s lemon lavender daisy cookies.
I’m not sure if Biff’s furrowed brow is a good sign or not.
After everyone has tried both cookies, it’s time for my interrogation.
Felicia goes first. “Do you think cookies are the appropriate choice for a bridal shower? They are rather simple.”
I resist the urge to shrug, reminding myself I need to behave professionally.
“Cookies are appropriate for most situations. They’re handy to pick up and eat while standing and chatting.
You don’t need to use a utensil. You don’t need to peel away and discard a wrapper.
” Take that, Barbie Bakers. “Sugar cookies can be dressed up elegantly, as we’ve done here, or be playful, if the shower is more laid-back or naughty.
There’s a shape for almost anything, and when you have an artist like Andie, she can create designs for any occasion with buttercream or royal icing. ”
“Would you serve these at your bridal shower?” she asks.
“Not these flavors because they aren’t my personal style, but I’d do sugar cookies for sure.”
My answer seems to satisfy Felicia because Paulie asks, “Tell us about your flavors. For these cookies.”
“Sure. Our cookie is our vanilla no-chill sugar cookie dough—”
“Why didn’t you chill it?” Biff asks.
My stomach sinks. Did we make a mistake?
“We knew with the time constraints we couldn’t make a traditional sugar cookie dough from scratch, chill it, cut it out, bake, and decorate with the detail we wanted in an hour.
We have our traditional sugar cookie dough with us, but we wanted to show off what we could do. ”
Paulie taps the table with two fingers. “Back to your flavors.”
I inhale then exhale, centering myself. “The hydrangeas have a lavender buttercream, and the daisy cookies have lemon buttercream for the daisies and lavender for the forget-me-nots.”
Paulie nods. “You made the lavender buttercream?”
“Yes,” I say, dread forming a knot in my stomach.
“It’s the best I’ve ever had. I usually can’t stand lavender because it tastes like soap, but you added the perfect amount—so we get the flavor, but it’s light.
” He takes another bite of the daisy cookie.
“And this blend of lemon and lavender is so well-balanced. Lemon is a strong flavor, but it’s supporting the lavender, not overpowering it. Good job.”
Now it’s officially Biff’s turn. “You said you wouldn’t pick these flavors, what would you pick for your own shower?”
Finally, an easy question to answer. I smile.
“I’m kinda traditional when it comes to sugar cookies.
I love our floral designs and would want our regular chilled vanilla sugar cookie dough because it’s a little bit lighter in texture than our no-chill, and I’d want vanilla buttercream.
But I’d also have simple cinnamon sugar cookies topped with brown sugar buttercream because they’re my sister Shelby’s favorites.
Our grandmother raised us, and she would make them at Thanksgiving, so they’re special to us, and Shelby is special to me. ”
I hear Shelby sniffle, but I can’t look her way because then I’ll start blubbering.
“They sound delicious, I hope I get to try them sometime,” Biff says,and the other judges nod.
Dakota steps forward. “Okay, contestants, return to your station while the judges deliberate.”
I go back to our station and look around to see if the cameras are still on. I know our mics are live.
Andie wraps me in a hug. “You did a great job! I’d have gotten so flustered, but you handled it like a pro! A Pastry Pro!”
We giggle at our silliness but stop when Carla steps in front of the judges’ table.
“Contestants, there has been a change in plans. Round one will be a double elimination.”
Gasps ripple through the room like a giant beach ball in the crowd of a concert.
“Round two—at the wedding—and round three—reception ready—are going to be combined into one round that will be held this afternoon after lunch. Our winner will be announced this afternoon, and there will be no competition tomorrow.”
“Holy shit,” Andie whispers. “I wonder what’s going on?”
“No idea. Maybe it was always the plan but they sprang it on us to up the drama?”
Carla turns away from the judges and tells us to come forward as teams. She steps away, and Dakota takes her place.
“Okay, the judges have made their decisions. Are we ready to hear them?”
No. But we nod yes anyway.
Biff must be the head judge because he speaks first. “All of the teams assembled here are so talented and should be proud of their efforts. We considered each team on the quality of their item, adherence to the theme, and frankly, who we wanted to see more from. With that said, the teams leaving us are…”
In the end the bakers with the store-bought puff pastry and unfortunate haircuts and the twin brothers who don’t know what a flower is are cut. Leaving me and Andie, the sorority sisters, and the father/daughter pair. It will be interesting to see how the afternoon goes. But first, lunch.