“She must have been pretty special in your life at one time.”
“That doesn’t begin to describe her.” He wondered where she was tonight.
“I hear melancholy in that statement. You really did love her.”
He nodded.
“Fine, I’m not sure listening to those messages was the best way to get you to relax, but it certainly was exhausting. I’ll wake you in the morning.”
The following morning at the studio, they started with the announcement of who took the loss in the second round. Since it was double elimination, everyone was still in play for the $100,000 prize.
Andrew stood in front of his covered plate in the kitchen on set, waiting for the music intro and lights to go live.
“In three…two…one…”
“Welcome back. We’re ready to show who lost one life in this two-round elimination to the one-hundred-thousand-dollar Four Square Valentine’s Day Bake-Off. Chefs, prepare to lift the covered plate in front of you. Like in the last round, you’re looking for a Valentine card. If your plate is empty, then you lost this round.”
Andrew readied his hand over the handle of the silver cover plate.
“Now.”
He lifted the cover, almost afraid to look down, but there on the tray was a brightly colored Valentine card with a bright green frog leaping into the air right in the center of a field of green grass and flowers made of red hearts. It read, You Make Me Hoppy!
He practically fell to his knees with relief.
A buzzer rang, and the hair and makeup people came in to change things up a little to make it look like the next day. Martin started the announcement of who got eliminated, but of course the mic cut out and Andrew was left in silence.
He’d eked through. Thank goodness.
Lori walked in, carrying a bottle of water. “Congrats!”
“How did that happen? I saw the other entries. Mine was ridiculously off the mark. Almost embarrassingly so.”
“I told you anything could happen. Dishes are undercooked, burned, and I can’t tell you how often someone flat-out forgets to integrate a mandatory ingredient. Or time runs out and they don’t get everything on the plate.”
“I’m thanking my lucky stars right now.”
“Good, because we’ll be moving to round three now, and these count,” she reminded. “You’re halfway there.”
They went through the same drill as in rounds one and two, and it did seem to get easier. Andrew was much more relaxed, letting Lori and the team shuffle him around.
Martin announced the theme of round three. “Black-Tie Affair. In your cabinets, chefs, you’ll find the mandatory ingredient.”
Andrew listened and opened the cabinet when he was instructed to do so.
All that was inside was a pomegranate and Pom juice.
Lori’s advice ran through his mind. “Relax and concentrate on the challenge. Let the baking skills show themselves naturally. Don’t flaunt them.”
Black-Tie Affair.
He pictured a swanky black-tie affair at his restaurant. He’d hosted many there with the rich and elite.
Pomegranate brought a beautiful color to the table, but the taste could be tart.
At this kind of party, things were small. Elegant. A smile played on his lips.
He’d make vanilla-coconut almond panna cotta with a pomegranate jelly layer in a tall shot glass. He’d layer the panna cotta at an angle until it set long enough to then spoon the red transparent layer of jelly on top.
The recipe itself wasn’t complex, but the collision of flavors should delight the judges while perfectly meeting all of the expectations of a Black-Tie Affair.
The precise execution of layering the flavors and colors into the thin tall glasses required a steady hand and years of practice, which he had. Not a smear or shaky line was to be seen on any of his six entries.
His ego was recovering a bit from the last round.
He relaxed, and for the first time in a long time, seven years maybe, he enjoyed creating a new recipe. He examined the finished product. Almost right, but missing something. What would Kelly have done differently? He grabbed a handful of ripe pomegranate seeds and sprinkled them atop each of the desserts. You’re my secret ingredient, Kelly, and you don’t even know it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In round three, Kelly had made a layered shot glass dessert of gingerbread crust, a pomegranate-infused gelatin, and a light almond cheesecake, with sugar-glazed pomegranate seeds on top. She’d been so surprised to see another shot glass dessert, one even prettier than her own with the pomegranate jelly. Perfectly clear. With no bubbles, it was almost like red liquid suspended.
But it hadn’t mattered that they’d been even a little bit similar, because those two Black-Tie Affair entries were the two that had made it to the finals.
She actually had a chance of winning this.
“And then there were two,” Martin Schlipshel said over the speakers. “Welcome back to the final round of our Four Square Valentine’s Day Bake-Off. Four of the best pastry chefs around have been vying for our biggest award yet. And we’re down to the final two. The grand prize? One hundred thousand dollars and the title of Best Four Square Bake-Off Pastry Chef.”
Music filled the air, and then her kitchen went silent. It was the long lulls that made the whole thing feel like an out-of-body experience.
“Tonight’s show is in front of the live studio audience.”
Kelly could picture the big screens on either side of the stage as Martin played puppeteer with the contestants, including herself, from the stage in front of the audience.
Kelly’s arms shook all the way up to the elbows. She shifted on her feet. Somewhere she’d heard if you bent your knees slightly you wouldn’t pass out, and that would be a plus, because she could hardly bake in this final round if she was laid out on the floor.
This was the longest she’d ever gone in her life without talking to her parents. She hadn’t even been allowed to watch television. She felt so isolated. But
