The Heat Is On Read online

  Caroline smiled. She knew exactly what to do. And she didn’t stop smiling, not even when the cameras arrived.

  “Ready?” asked Chef Nancy, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s get cooking!”

  Caroline strained out the lumps and put the remaining sauce into a saucepan on low heat. She warmed a bowl with hot water, cracked an egg, and dropped the egg yolk into the bowl. Now all she had to do was whisk the yolk and slowly add the heated sauce.

  “FINISHED!” Oliver threw his hands up.

  Caroline dropped her whisk. WHAT? How could he be done so fast?

  Chef Nancy picked up Oliver’s bowl and swirled a spoon through the thick smooth hollandaise. “Well done, Oliver. Anyone else?”

  Caroline and Rae both shook their heads.

  Chef Nancy handed the bowl back. “Oliver, can you explain your process?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I heated the mixture very slowly and using a whisk, I mixed in two teaspoons of boiling water, one drop at a time.”

  Rae couldn’t believe it. “What? That’s it?”

  “Were you using the egg yolk method?” asked Chef Nancy.

  Rae nodded.

  “That works too,” said Chef Nancy.

  “It just takes longer,” added Oliver. He smirked. “It’s good to know the fast tricks.”

  While Oliver was at the Gadget Wall picking out his prize, Chef Nancy pulled out the black board. Whoever earned the most stars would get an advantage in the elimination challenge. Rae turned away. No need to watch—she wasn’t getting a star. The space under her name was staying one hundred percent blank.

  The difference between winning and losing is huge. It’s pretty simple: winning feels like being on top of the mountain. I always want the good feeling. Who wouldn’t? So I do everything I can to be better—that’s not a crime.

  Oliver came back from the Gadget Wall with a handheld citrus juicer. He put it in his toolbox.

  “Getting pretty full,” he bragged.

  Chef Nancy pointed to the door. “Okay! Back to the lodge!”

  ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅

  Rae couldn’t wait to get Caroline alone. Now that they were in their room for the night, there were things she needed to know. “How did you do it?”

  “Do what?” asked Caroline.

  “Change so you wouldn’t be nervous or scared of the cameras.”

  Caroline leaned forward. “You can tell?”

  Rae nodded.

  Caroline shifted uneasily. “I don’t know. It was kind of like a switch: one minute I was a nervous person and then I wasn’t. And now that I’m not, everything is easier.”

  “Huh.” Rae slouched back against her pillow. She’d been hoping for more of a recipe—something she could follow too.

  Caroline waved her arm. “Wait—it could have been the eggplant!”

  “Eggplant?” Rae sat up.

  “Yeah, remember the eggplant napoleon I made in the elimination challenge last week? That’s the first time it happened. Getting the idea to make it was like a ZAP! My brain was suddenly on fire. Maybe that’s all it takes. One good thing, and then you feel better about everything else, too. There should be a word for that kind of thing.”

  Rae leaned back and put her head on the pillow. She knew the word, but she didn’t say it.

  Caroline watched her. “Are you going to sleep?”

  “Uh-huh.” Rae snuggled under the covers.

  She closed her eyes and imagined the Crafty Café, her fantasy food truck. If visualizing worked for Oliver, maybe it would work for her, too. She opened the door and looked inside. There was only one thing she was hoping to find: confidence.

  Sunday

  Chapter 10

  hef Nancy did not rush them through breakfast. “Take your time, enjoy. We don’t need to be in the filming studio until this afternoon.” It felt strange to have a morning of free time. Rae made three new clay charms, Caroline read magazines, and Oliver went to the library to look at recipe books. By lunchtime they were all restless.

  They finished lunch in record time and were ready and waiting when Chef Nancy reappeared to take them to the filming studio.

  Caroline moved up next to Chef Nancy. “You know how I won the Diner Challenge? When do they take my picture for the magazine?”

  “Not sure,” answered Chef Nancy, “but sometime before Thursday.”

  She whispered her next question. It was the one she really wanted to know. “Are Chef Gary and Chef Aimee going to name their puppy Freckles?”

  Chef Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to ask about that.”

  Oliver nudged Rae. “Remember the interview question about comfort food? I bet that’s the next challenge.”

  Rae nodded. Of course it was. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  Steve was waiting outside the studio door. He looked at Chef Nancy and tapped his watch.

  “I know! I know! I’m sorry!” She held the door and waved everyone in. “Hurry! Line up behind the table. Chef Gary and Chef Porter are waiting.”

  As soon as everyone was in position, Steve gave the signal. “ROLLING!”

  “Good afternoon and welcome back!” Chef Gary studied the junior chefs. “Are you rested and eager for a new challenge?”

  “YES, CHEF!”

  He smiled. “I’m ready too! And I really like this one.”

  Rae shot Caroline a nervous glance, but Caroline didn’t notice.

  Chef Porter moved toward the table. “Comfort food. What does that mean?” Oliver’s hand shot up, but she ignored him. “It’s food that makes us feel loved. It’s food we share with our families. It’s food that feels special and meaningful.” Chef Porter clasped her hands together. “I want to thank you for sharing your family recipes with us. This is a privilege.” She stepped back and Chef Gary took over.

  “Thank you, Chef Porter. I feel the same.” He turned toward the junior chefs. “I want to hear more about your comfort meals.” He pointed to Rae. “Can you tell us about the chicken pot pie you and your grandmother make?”

  “There are four parts to this recipe.” She held up four fingers. “Part one is you have to cook your chicken. We usually roast it in the morning. Part two is you have to make the filling: we use onions, carrots, celery, potatoes, mushrooms, frozen peas, and spices and create a sauce using a white roux. Part three is the biscuits. Cheddar cheese and lots of pepper make them extra tasty.”

  Chef Gary nodded. “Sounds tasty and—”

  “Delicious!” added Rae.

  Chef Gary wiggled his fingers. “Part four?”

  “Oops!” Rae blushed. “Baking. Part four is you have to put it all together—the chicken, the filling, and the biscuits on top—and then bake it.”

  “Thank you, Rae. That sounds like a very comforting dish.”

  Chef Porter turned to Oliver.

  Of course, Oliver was ready with his answer. He wouldn’t make a mistake like she’d done. Rae didn’t pay attention. She heard random words: “buttermilk,” “brine,” “eight hours,” “extra buttermilk,” but her mind was too busy to listen. Seven words were on a continuous loop in her brain. If you want it, make it happen. If you want it, make it happen. It was her grandmother’s saying, and hearing it was like pot pie—comforting.

  She half listened to Caroline’s description of her lasagna, but then . . . Wait! What did Chef Gary just say? She looked up. Everyone was staring at her.

  “So,” asked Chef Gary. “What do you think? Our little Uma is a real diva, and the name suites her perfectly!”

  Rae eyes widened. “You named the puppy Uma?”

  Chef Gary nodded. “Of course—that’s what I just said.”

  Rae hugged her arms together and grinned. If the table hadn’t been in the way, she might have hugged Chef Gary, too.

  Caroline and Oliver looked disappointed.

  Chef Porter tapped her wrist. There wasn’t a watch, but Chef Gary got the hint.

  “Okay, time to move on. As you may have guessed, t
oday’s challenge is comfort food. We’re going to give you five minutes in the pantry to gather your ingredients, and then you’ll have ninety minutes. Are you ready?”

  “YES, CHEF!”

  Rae smiled. Her favorite meal and the puppy surprise—her luck was definitely changing!

  “CUT!” yelled Steve.

  “Workstations!” shouted Chef Nancy.

  There are two things you absolutely have to do to make good fried chicken. Brine and bake! The baking part is kind of a secret. After frying the chicken you put it in the oven for ten minutes. But how can I brine if I only have ninety minutes? I’m going to have to improvise, and it’s not going to be easy.

  “Five minutes to make a list!” announced Chef Nancy. “And then we’ll be back on camera for the pantry run.”

  Caroline quickly scribbled out a list of ingredients: eggplants, zucchini, tomatoes, onions, peppers, and thyme for the ratatouille, and flour and eggs for the lasagna noodles. Homemade noodles were a must, but that wasn’t going to be hard. She’d made them before.

  There isn’t a trick to making this lasagna. You just have to be patient the ratatouille has to cook down so that all the flavors meld together. It’s the difference between tasting good and tasting great. I’m glad we have ninety minutes. I can work with that.

  Chef Nancy made a tour of the workstations. “Remember your lists. There’s no going back. You don’t want to forget anything.”

  Rae carefully taped the list to the inside of her basket. On TV it would look like she’d memorized all her ingredients, but that wasn’t true. The list was handy, if she needed it.

  Chicken pot pie isn’t that hard to make if you have a lot of time, but we only have ninety minutes, so I’ll have to rush. The first thing I’ll do is poach the chicken breasts. Poaching is not the same as boiling—it’s more delicate. If you simmer the breasts in a broth of herbs and spices, they’ll be moist and flavorful. Boiling would make them rubbery.

  Chef Nancy ran to the front of the room and clapped her hands. “Places, everyone!”

  “ROLLING!” shouted Steve.

  Chef Gary’s hand sliced the air. “GO!”

  It was a race to the pantry. Mark and Janet moved in for camera close-ups, but everyone was too busy to notice.

  Five minutes passed quickly.

  “TIME!” called Chef Gary.

  Rae ran to her workstation. Something was wrong. Where was Steve? He always called CUT right after the pantry run, but today he just stood off to the side, smiling.

  Chef Gary stepped forward. “We can’t wait to try these delicious recipes, but I hope you’ve been listening to each other, because we have a twist. You are NOT going to make your own comfort food dish. You’re going to switch baskets!”

  Caroline looked at Rae, Oliver looked at Caroline, and a shiver swept down Rae’s spine.

  Chef Porter held up the green bag. “Oliver, since you were the winner of the last challenge, you may pick a name from the bag.”

  Oliver walked to the front of the room, picked out an envelope, and handed it to Chef Porter.

  Rae held her breath. She was in trouble. BIG TROUBLE! She hadn’t listened to Caroline and Oliver explain their meals. She had no idea how to make ratatouille—in fact, she’d never even heard of it before. She crossed her fingers. If she got Oliver’s basket, maybe at least she’d have a chance.

  Chef Porter opened the envelope. “Congratulations, Oliver. You will be making Caroline’s ratatouille and Caroline will make Rae’s chicken pot pie, and Rae will make Oliver’s fried chicken.”

  Rae breathed a fast sigh of relief, but it didn’t last—she was nervous again.

  Chef Gary picked up Oliver’s basket and placed it in front of Rae. “This is exciting. We can’t wait to try your hearty home-cooked meals.”

  “CUT!” shouted Steve.

  No one moved. Oliver, Caroline, and Rae stood motionless in stunned silence.

  Chapter 11

  efore the cameras started up again, Chef Nancy visited each contestant to give them tips and discuss cooking strategies. Oliver had an eggplant question, Caroline had a biscuit question, and Rae wanted to know which was better for frying—peanut oil or canola oil? Chef Nancy couldn’t tell the junior chefs what to do, but she could share information so they could decide for themselves. “Peanut oil has a mild flavor and a smoking point of 450 degrees. Canola oil has a smoking point of 400 degrees.”

  Rae nodded. If the oil burnt, the fried chicken would be ruined. A higher smoking point would be better. Peanut oil was the winner.

  “One minute!” Steve pointed to the cameras.

  Chef Nancy stepped off to the side.

  “ROLLING!” shouted Steve.

  Chef Porter took center stage. She didn’t raise her voice or her hand. “You have ninety minutes. Let’s get cooking!”

  Oliver grabbed the eggplants and began slicing. He had a plan, and he’d worked backwards to figure out the timing. The lasagna would take forty minutes to cook, the ratatouille would take twenty minutes to cook, plus there was the mise en place, but before he could even start on that, he had to salt and drain the eggplants. It was going to be a rush. He only had fifty minutes to get everything made and assembled.

  My biggest challenge is the brining. I’m not an expert at it, but I do know that brining takes hours, not minutes. The meat needs time to absorb the buttermilk. If I don’t brine, the chicken could be tough and dry. It’ll take me twenty-five minutes to batter and fry the chicken, so that only leaves forty-five minutes for brining. I just hope that’s enough.

  Rae prepared her brine, mixing buttermilk, paprika, salt, hot sauce, garlic, rosemary, thyme, pepper, and a little lemon juice. She added the chicken, covered the bowl, and put it the refrigerator. Chef Porter arrived just as she was mixing up flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.

  “Where are you in your process?”

  Rae kept mixing. “I’m making biscuits and my chicken is brining in the refrigerator.”

  Chef Porter glanced around the room. “You seem calm. Are you comfortable with your assignment?”

  Rae nodded. “Mostly. I’ve made biscuits before, but the fried chicken is new. I’ll be super busy later. Once I start frying.”

  “Yes, you will!” Chef Porter lingered a minute to watch and then turned and headed toward Caroline.

  “Hello, Caroline. What are you working on?”

  Caroline pointed to the stove. “I’m poaching the chicken with thyme, rosemary, salt, pepper, and lemon slices. It’ll be done in fifteen minutes.”

  “And what’s this?” Chef Porter tapped the cutting board.

  “Oh.” Caroline picked up a knife. “It’s for the chicken pie. I’m dicing parsnips, mushrooms, carrots, celery, and onions.”

  Chef Porter examined a small white cube. “Parsnips instead of potatoes—that’s interesting.”

  Caroline felt a slight wave of panic. Was that good or bad? “It wasn’t my idea. They were in Rae’s basket.”

  “Of course,” said Chef Porter. “Carry on.” And then she was gone.

  My biggest challenge is getting everything ready fast enough so I can get it all put together and into the oven to bake. The pie needs to bake for twenty-five minutes, so that gives me an hour of prep time. I can do it. It’s a lot less complicated than my lasagna recipe. Oliver has way more to do.

  Chef Gary approached Oliver just as he was adding crushed tomatoes to a pan.

  “What’s cooking?”

  “Tomatoes, peppers, and onions,” answered Oliver. He stirred the mixture together. “And when this is cooked, I’ll add back the cooked eggplant and zucchini.”

  Chef Gary nodded. “Patience is hard in a time crunch, but a good ratatouille takes time.”

  “That’s okay.” Oliver grabbed a ball of dough and started to knead. “It gives me time to make the noodles.”

  “Nice job, Oliver. It looks like you’ve got everything under control.”

  My biggest challenge is the pre
p. Mostly it’s the ratatouille, because I have to make two dishes—the ratatouille and then the lasagna. I’m not complaining, but I hope the judges will realize how much work this is. And of course, I hope it tastes good. Caroline is a competent chef, so if it’s one of her favorites, it should be good.

  “FORTY-FIVE MINUTES!” called Chef Gary.

  CLANK! A pot crashed onto the floor.

  Chef Gary rushed over to Oliver’s workstation. “Is everything okay?”

  Oliver answered without looking up. “I’m sorry, sir. Accident. Empty pot. I have to assemble this lasagna and get it into the oven NOW!” He covered the bottom of a mini loaf pan with noodles and then spooned on a layer of the ratatouille.

  Chef Gary picked up the pot, put it on the table, and quietly moved away. Oliver didn’t need help—he needed time.

  “Thirty minutes!” announced Chef Porter.

  Caroline opened the oven door, placed her pot pie on the middle rack, closed the door, and stepped back, breathing a sigh of relief. Now she could relax—all she had to do was wait. She looked around the room. Oliver caught her eye and nodded. He was waiting too.

  They both watched Rae. Her biscuits were in the oven, but she wasn’t waiting. The next thirty minutes would be a race against time. Rae pulled the chicken pieces out of the brine and set them on wire racks to drain, then poured peanut oil into a deep skillet and turned it on.

  “While that gets hot, I’ll make the breading.” The room was quiet. Rae was the only one talking, but she didn’t seem to notice. She added flour, salt, pepper, thyme, paprika, and cayenne pepper to a large bowl and mixed.