The Winner Is . . . Read online

  Contents

  * * *

  Title Page

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  How to Cook Flavorful Food

  Read More from the Next Best Junior Chef Series

  Middle Grade Mania!

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Connect with HMH on Social Media

  Copyright © 2018 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

  Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

  Text copyright © 2016 by The Culinary Institute of America, pp. 180–86 from The Young Chef.

  All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to [email protected] or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.

  hmhco.com

  Illustrations by Aurélie Blard-Quintard

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file.

  ISBN: 978-0-544-99144-6

  eISBN 978-1-328-47675-3

  v1.0618

  This book is dedicated to adventurous eaters. I don’t know who the first person was to think of eating an artichoke, but thank you. They are delicious!

  Friday—Week Three Begins

  Chapter 1

  aroline turned away from the studio door and studied Rae’s face. “Friends . . .”

  “. . . to the end!” They finished the sentence together. After two tough weeks of slicing and dicing, they were the only ones left. This was it! Now it was the battle to see who would be the winner.

  “Shhhhh.” Chef Nancy put a finger to her lips.

  Rae rubbed her palms against her shirt. In just a few seconds the door would open and it would begin all over again.

  Rae counted the days on her fingers and then wiped her hands on her skirt. In seven days one of them would be the winner—the Next Best Junior Chef! And the other . . . She didn’t want to think about that. She studied the back of Caroline’s head. Was she nervous about winning or—worse—losing? The producer’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “BOOMS!”

  “LIGHTS!”

  “CAMERAS!”

  “ROLLING!”

  And then the announcer began. “Welcome to Next Best Junior Chef! This is week three, our FINAL week of competition. After Thursday’s elimination round, we’ll have a winner for the Next Best Junior Chef! We have two remaining talented junior chefs, who have certainly earned the right to be here, but are they ready for what lies ahead? This week’s challenges will test their culinary knowledge, ingenuity, and maybe even the bonds of their friendship. It’s time to jump from the frying pan into the fire. Will they sizzle or fizzle? We can’t wait to find out—so without further delay, let’s bring out our final contestants.”

  Chef Nancy tapped Caroline’s shoulder. Caroline walked confidently to the front of the studio, pacing herself to match the announcer’s tempo.

  “Congratulations, Caroline, and welcome to this exciting final week of competition. Caroline is eleven years old and from Chicago, Illinois. She worked some fast-food magic last week, elevating a hot dog to an haute dog. She has continually impressed the judges with her creativity and culinary talent.”

  Chef Nancy held the door for Rae.

  “Congratulations, Rae, and welcome to the final week of competition.”

  Rae blinked twice, focused on the front, and started down the ramp. The energy of the room quickly changed her nervousness into excitement.

  “Rae is eleven years old and from Port Chester, New York. Last week, she won unanimous praise for perfecting a cookie classic and served up a winning dish in the elimination round. This young chef is a master of both pleasing the palate and presentation.”

  Rae stood next to Caroline in front of the three judges.

  “Our esteemed judges include Chef Vera Porter of the famous Porter Farm Restaurant, the renowned pastry chef Aimee Copley, and Chef Gary Lee, restaurant proprietor and host of the award-winning show Adventures in Cooking. The judges will be watching our competitors throughout the week, and everything that happens along the way will be taken into consideration when we get to the final elimination round. In addition to choosing a winner, the judges will have to dismiss one of our junior chefs and ask them to hang up their apron. This decision will be based on performance, the taste and presentation of their dishes, and their overall creative vision.”

  Caroline reached for Rae’s hand, then gave it a squeeze and held on. Rae squeezed back.

  “Our junior chefs are mentored by Chef Nancy Patel, the 2013 recipient of the Golden Spoon Award. The winner of Next Best Junior Chef will receive two life-changing prizes: a custom food truck and a guest spot on Adventures in Cooking when it begins filming this summer in Italy!”

  Chef Gary stepped to the center of the room. “WOW! This is it!” He nodded to each of the junior chefs. “Congratulations. You’ve made it!”

  They smiled back.

  He shook his head. “I have to be honest, this is not going to be an easy week, but”—he raised a finger—“it will be exciting. We have twists, turns, and lots of surprises. You will not be disappointed. As in previous weeks, there is a theme, and we’re especially excited about this one. Our theme for the week is innovation. So we’ll want to see some fresh new ideas. Are you ready to battle it out and flex your creative muscles?”

  “YES, CHEF!”

  “And you’re still friends?” He pointed to their joined hands. “Remarkable! Well, that calls for a celebration. Let’s have a toast!” He motioned to an assistant standing at the side of the studio. “Bring out the champagne!”

  Chapter 2

  hampagne? Rae looked worried, Caroline confused. They weren’t old enough to drink champagne!

  Chef Aimee laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s not champagne. We have something even more special. Any guesses?”

  “Sparkling apple juice.”

  “Ginger ale?”

  A stagehand pushed a rolling cart with six fancy glasses to the front of the room. Caroline frowned. It definitely wasn’t ginger ale.

  Chef Aimee handed out the glasses. “Chef Porter has prepared one of her favorite chilled soups for this occasion, and she’ll lead us in the toast.”

  Rae studied the glass. The soup was light green with one perfectly cut square crouton floating on top.

  Chef Porter raised her glass. “Congratulations to you both, and may our final week be one of discoveries.”

  Chef Gary emptied his glass in one gulp, chewed up the crouton, then nodded to Chef Porter. “Thank you, Chef, for that refreshing start to the week.” He turned back to the junior chefs, a smile on his face. “Are you ready for fun?”

  They nodded. Caroline
winced and forced herself to swallow. The soup tasted like soap. That meant only one thing—cilantro! Two weeks ago, Chef Nancy had told the junior chefs about the gene that makes cilantro taste like soap. People are just born with it; they can’t help it. Caroline was one of those people.

  Chef Gary clapped his hands. “Great! Glad to hear it . . . because the fun starts now! RIGHT NOW!”

  “WHAT?” Rae covered her mouth, but it was too late. Everyone had heard.

  Chef Gary wagged his finger. “See, I told you there’d be surprises. Your first challenge is to create a fun, easy dish composed of the flavors you just tasted in this soup. Don’t worry, there’ll be more samples at your workstations, so you can try it again.”

  Caroline suppressed a groan. More soup equaled more soap!

  “And . . .” Chef Gary pointed a finger. “Please keep a list of every ingredient you use. We’ll need that list when you come to the table at the end of the challenge. You’ll have a total of thirty minutes for this challenge. Five minutes at your workstations for a pantry list, five minutes in the pantry, and then twenty minutes to prepare your final creation.” He raised his hand. “Your time starts now—GO!”

  Caroline and Rae raced off to their workstations. One was smiling; the other was not.

  This challenge is not going to be easy. I have this gene thing that makes cilantro taste like soap. I can’t help it—I was just born that way. I’m going to have to force myself to drink it and see if I can figure out any of the other flavors. Just by the color and the texture, I’m guessing the main ingredient is avocado. I can’t believe we are starting the competition so soon and I’m already at a disadvantage.

  The fast start was a real surprise, but I’m ready for it. I actually really liked the soup. Cilantro is one of my favorite flavors, so that was easy to pick out. Plus the flavor profile was a little spicy, so I’m guessing there is some kind of pepper in there too. It’s tricky with a blended soup—you can’t see the ingredients. But we get to taste it again, so that’s going to be helpful. Poor Caroline! She is not going to like this challenge, and I don’t blame her. Who wants to drink a mouthful of soap!

  Chapter 3

  ae took a sip of soup, and then quickly added corn and lime juice to her list. Figuring out the ingredients was easier than she thought it would be. She wiggled her tongue. Thank you, tongue! She was lucky—she had a sophisticated palate. The roasted corn was a good catch—there was only a hint of the charred smoky flavor, but she’d caught it. She looked over the ingredients on her list. Now came the fun part: deciding what to make.

  Caroline wasn’t so lucky—spicy soap was the best she could do. The soaplike cilantro taste overpowered everything. She’d tried, but after three mouthfuls, she was done. She sighed and looked for visual clues instead. The pale green color meant the avocado was mixed with other ingredients—probably vegetable broth and something white. She scribbled down a guess: sour cream.

  “TIME!” Chef Gary stood at the front of the room; a second later he shouted again. “PANTRY RUN!”

  Janet and Mike followed Caroline and Rae to the pantry with their cameras. They filmed Rae grabbing two ears of corn, limes, serrano chiles, and garlic, and then closed in for a close-up of Caroline at the spice wall. She frowned, hesitated, and then added smoked paprika, pepper, celery salt, cumin, salt, and ancho chili pepper to her basket. She was shopping blind—no recipe, no idea what to make. Her only plan was to grab everything she might need and decide later.

  “WORKSTATIONS!”

  “CUT!” The cameras turned off.

  Caroline was grateful for the extra time. Since she couldn’t figure out all the ingredients, she’d have to wow the judges in a different way. Her presentation on the plate would have to be amazing.

  Chef Nancy came by to visit as the junior chefs unpacked their groceries. Sometimes she offered suggestions, but mostly she provided reassurance. She tried not to look worried, but she knew about Caroline’s trouble with cilantro. “How is it going?”

  Caroline held up a perfectly ripe avocado. “I have a plan—baked avocados in the half shell.”

  “Oooh! Intriguing.”

  “And delicious!”

  Rae saw Chef Nancy approaching and waved her over. “I was inspired by the crouton, so I’m going to make avocado toast and incorporate all the flavors of the soup.”

  Chef Nancy raised her arms. “I give up. You two don’t need me.” She wiped away a pretend tear, and then touched her heart. “I’m so proud . . . of both of you!”

  The junior chefs grinned, first at Chef Nancy, then each other. It was a perfect start to the competition.

  “ROLLING!”

  Chef Aimee stood in the center of the room with her arm in the air. “LET’S GET COOKING!”

  “Do the corn first!” Rae talked to herself as she worked. She shucked the corn and then rubbed it with olive oil. Grilling on the stove was harder than grilling on a barbecue—the flame was closer. “Ouch!” She pulled the corn off the gas burner, grabbed some tongs, and slowly rotated the ear above the flame. This wasn’t the best use of her time, but she had no choice. Charred and burned are very different flavors.

  Caroline did the math in her head. Twenty minutes minus twelve minutes in the oven meant there were only eight minutes left, and that needed to be split up between prepping and plating. She had to rush! She halved an avocado, removed the pit, and scooped out the flesh, careful not to damage the skin.

  Chef Gary approached just as she was mixing up the filling. “Everything okay?”

  She nodded but didn’t look up. She was too busy to chat.

  “What are you mixing up?”

  Caroline sighed and put down her spoon. “Avocado, feta cheese, onions, and pepper, and if I don’t get this into those”—she pointed to two empty avocado shells—“I’m going to be in trouble.”

  Chef Gary nodded. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just observing.”

  Caroline filled the first shell, piling it high, then set it on a baking tray. It tipped and fell to the side, spilling the filling onto the tray. “Nooo!” She replaced the filling and set it upright. It tipped again.

  Chef Gary shook his head. “Some things can’t stand alone.” He turned to leave, then added, “I’d think about that.”

  Caroline repeated his words and then looked back at the tray. Together! That was the opposite of alone! She almost shouted a thank-you, but Chef Gary was already gone. She quickly added filling to another shell and then balanced the two shells together. Seconds later the tray was in the oven.

  The judges want us to succeed. I don’t think getting help is cheating. They help everyone. It’s not like Chef Gary told me exactly what to do. He just nudged me to think of my problem in a different way. I came up with the answer.

  Chapter 4

  aroline and Rae started the last fifteen minutes with the same worry: time!

  Caroline set the temperature to 375 degrees, hoping a hotter oven would compensate for less time.

  Rae set the ears on a plate. The grilling had taken a lot longer than she’d planned. She was way behind schedule.

  Chef Gary studied her bare countertop. “What’s going on here?”

  “Buttered corn. First, I’m slicing the kernels off the cob. The butter is mixed with smoked paprika, salt, and pepper, so the flavors meld. Then, I’ll toss the kernels in the butter mixture. I know, there’s a lot to do, but I do have a plan.” Rae counted off on her fingers: “Toast, avocados, and plating.” She grabbed a loaf of seeded bread and cut off two fat slices. “See?”

  “Absolutely,” agreed Chef Gary. “Go to it.”

  “FIVE MINUTES!”

  Rae opened her oven door and flipped the bread. Two minutes under the broiler and it’d be done.

  Caroline opened her oven door and then closed it again. Two minutes of cooking and then time to plate.

  Rae spread the avocado mash onto the freshly toasted bread, added two spoonfuls of the buttered corn, then sprinkled on queso fres
co and chopped cilantro. A pinch of smoked paprika added a final dash of color. At the last minute she added a wedge of lime.

  Caroline placed her half avocado in the center of a plate, held her breath, and then slowly let go. It was balancing, but only barely. She drizzled a zigzag pattern of sriracha mayonnaise on top, and added a sprinkling of breadcrumbs. The final decoration was a sprig of cilantro.

  “TIME!”

  Caroline and Rae stepped back from their workstations, hands in the air.

  “CUT.”

  The cameras were off.

  Caroline studied her plate. Was the avocado starting to tip to the side, or was that just her imagination?

  Caroline and Rae stood next to each other, off to the side, while the cameras moved in to film their plates.

  “Nice presentation!” whispered Rae, and then suddenly her smile faded.

  Caroline spun around. What? What had she seen? “Noooooo.” A slow moan escaped her lips. Caroline’s avocado was lying on its side, and the filling had spilled everywhere—the plate, the table, and even the floor. It was a disaster!

  Chef Nancy rushed over to the plate, motioned for Steve, and called to the judges. Rae watched the group talking and gesturing. She leaned toward Caroline. “I’m so sorry!”

  Caroline stared at the ground, rhythmically repeating the same three words, over and over. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. Suddenly she was looking at a pair of feet. Chef Nancy touched her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. We’re going to work this out. It was Mark, the cameraman. He accidentally nudged your plate.”

  Caroline looked up. “He did?”