Four stainless-steel cook stations are arranged on a small platform stage. The long table now faces the stations.
Mama Bear, in a silk robe, hurries over to me. He’s got streaks of different-colored sparkles through his beard and in his chest hair.
“Hey, I was wondering when the cooking cub would show. We need you backstage.” Mama Bear leads me to a curtained-off area near the entrance to the kitchen. When I see the other competitors, I can see exactly why the judges were concerned about my image.
The first contestant is busy on his phone, thumbs flying. He glances up briefly as Mama Bear introduces him: Zack. He’s blond and looks like he barely eats, all sinew and bones.
“I’m doing a live feed,” Zack says without looking up.
The next contestant, Jeff, works as a personal chef. I’d put him in his thirties. He looks fit under his printed button-down. He shakes my hand before turning away.
Dixon, number three, has muscles on top of muscles. We shake hands. His grip is firm. His forearms bulge with veins.
I must be staring at his arms because Dixon lets go of my hand, then pats my belly. “I’m a personal trainer. If you ever get tired of your muffin top, call me.” He holds out his business card.
“Thanks.” I shove the card in my pocket quickly. My face burns to the tips of my ears.
“Ignore him. He’s a gym bunny,” the last contestant says. He has a full head of hair with silver strands running through it. “I’m Dennis. Nice to meet you, Theo.” He tells me he’s just a home cook.
Blake and Beth enter the curtained-off area.
“Welcome, everybody,” says Blake. “So. Each round is going to have a different theme. We’ll line you up, Mama Bear will do his hosting thing, and then he’ll announce this week’s challenge. Then you do your thing. After the judges do their tasting, one of you will be eliminated. Cool?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for a reply. “Good luck. We’re starting in a few.”
I pull my chef’s jacket and apron out of my backpack and put them on.
I hear a snicker and look over to catch Jeff and Dixon watching me and talking in low voices.
“Don’t pay them any attention. Just do your thing,” Dennis says. “Your coat fits you perfectly.” He fixes my collar as we line up.
Blake and Beth return as Mama Bear leaves. I hear Beth introducing the competition over the speakers. We are told to walk single file to our stations and not stop to look around or wave.
The last instructions weren’t needed. As I walk out, the stage lights make it hard to see anything past the cooking area. As my eyes adjust, I start to make out shapes. Slowly those shapes turn into people.
I hear someone whistle and see fabric swishing like banners. Di is in the front row.
“Welcome, everyone,” says Mama Bear. “Before you get started, I want to introduce you to today’s judges. They know what it means to be in the line of fire.” As Mama Bear tells us their names, I realize I have seen them before. They are servers from HEAT, two girls and a guy.
Introductions done, Mama Bear continues. “Down in the Village, nothing says Sunday like brunch. Chefs, your task today is to update a brunch classic. It should be able to stand up to Saturday night’s drinking and be tasty enough that we forget our figures.” Mama Bear pushes out his belly and rubs it. “You have one hour. Ready, set, HEAT!”
I take stock of my station as I think about what I like for brunch. My favorite is eggs benedict. I think its various components will show enough skill to get me through to the next round. I make a mean hollandaise sauce and know how to poach an egg perfectly, so it has that sunny, runny yolk. I get my pots going, English muffins split and eggs cracked.
Feeling confident, I think about what to serve on the side. As I wait for my water to come to a simmer, I peek around. Dixon and Jeff both have eggs and English muffins at their stations. They’re probably doing eggs benedict too. Damn. Well, it’s an obvious choice for brunch.
“A second eggs benedict,” Mama Bear confirms as she reaches Dixon’s station.
Dixon grins. “Well, mine is going to be healthier than Jeff’s. You won’t have to pay the price on Monday for Sunday’s brunch.”
With only five contestants, I can’t be the third making the same thing. I look around my station again. I see some cinnamon rolls and a jar of pickles. With the ham I was going to use with my eggs benny, I can change direction. I’ll do a take on a Monte Cristo. The cinnamon rolls look dry enough to really soak up the eggs I have already cracked. And Cuban sandwiches have ham and pickles with a mustard spread. But will these ingredients work together? It’s a risk. Combining the sweet cinnamon bread and the spicy mustard with the salty ham and briny pickles could be a genius move. Or a total disaster. I grab a fork and whisk my eggs, then slice the rolls to get them in. I’ll deep-fry the buns to give them a crunchy outside and creamy inside.
Mama Bear arrives at my station and asks me a couple of questions. I barely have time to answer him. I’m too busy slicing the ham and pickles and preparing the dipping sauces.
As I finish plating, Mama Bear gives the warning—one minute left. I grab an apple and a pear. I manage to fan the last of the slices onto the plates as the ten-second countdown ends.
I don’t know how my sandwich is going to taste, but it sure looks good.
We line up in front of the long table as the judges begin to taste our dishes.
Zack made apple-pie pancakes. The judges say they’re a bit sweet but yummy.
Jeff’s traditional eggs benedict have some issues. The hollandaise separated, and the eggs are overdone.
Dennis presents mini omelets stuffed with different fillings. They seem to go over well. The judges are impressed with the ambition of one item served three ways.
Dixon made egg-white benedicts with avocado sauce and smoked salmon. They look great, but the judges aren’t blown away by the flavor profile. It’s lacking something to tie it all together.
The judges get to my sandwich last.
“What is this?” one of them asks. “We thought you were doing an eggs benedict too.”
“I was,” I admit as another judge looks at my sandwich, lifts the top and wrinkles her nose when she sees the pickles and mustard. “Then I realized you were already going to eat that. Twice. I decided I’d better make something different. It’s a Monte Cristo Cuban sandwich made with cinnamon rolls. There’s warm maple syrup with butter and strawberry jam jazzed up with some grapefruit juice for dipping.”
The judge who opened the sandwich asks, “I admire your ability to think on your feet. But is this something you would eat?”
“I like Monte Cristo and Cuban sandwiches,” I say nervously. “So, yeah, I think I’d eat it.”
Jeff and Dixon laugh from their spots.
Mama Bear gives them a look. He picks up half of the sandwich from the extra plate, the one we were told was for display only, and takes a big bite. “You think you’d eat it? You mean you didn’t try it?” he asks.
I shake my head. Uh-oh.
Mama Bear pushes the other half of the sandwich at me. “Take a bite.”
I take a small bite, everyone watching. I take a second, bigger bite. The flavors totally work and complement each other. It’s delicious. Mama Bear takes another bite of his half.
The judges finally dig in.
“I have to stop eating so we can judge,” says the one who didn’t believe I would eat it myself. “If I’m honest, this seemed like the grossest combination of things. Just the idea of it was disgusting. The problem is, it’s disgustingly good.”
“I think we have a dark horse,” the last judge says.
“It’s the type of thing I’d work out all week to eat,” the first judge says between bites. “I know we need to make a decision about who is going home today, but all I want to do is finish this sandwich.”
After the judges talk among themselves for a few moments, the first judge addresses the five of us.
“With this dish, there were some technical missteps and a lack of creativity. We asked for an update, and we got a flawed classic. Unfortunately, that’s not acceptable in this competition. You have to nail every element.” She pauses for a moment. “Jeff, I’m afraid you have been eliminated.”
I take a deep breath. Changing directions, taking a risk, paid off. I’m still in the game.
“We look forward to seeing the rest of you next week.”