Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Jamal from the bakery, the third judge, gives me a friendly smile. But he’s ruthless when it comes time to dip a piece of crusty bread made fresh this morning into a pot. There’s a reason why Ana Rosa from the bank is still giving him side eye. He all but grilled her over the use of ghee as opposed to olive oil in her quinoa and cauliflower creation. Who knew fats and oils could be so contentious?
“Yes,” says Denise. “Riley can explain the dish to us since she did most of the cooking.”
Ava nods her head in acquiescence. It’s nothing we weren’t expecting.
“It would be my pleasure.” Shoulders back, tits out. “Sourcing the butter for the roux was the first step. I wanted to get the base just right so we could build something wonderful.”
Jamal grunts in approval.
“Finely chopped onion, celery, and half a bulb of garlic came next. Then I, um…”
Denise glowers at me without blinking.
“Um…”
Her dislike of me is sort of impressive. And she still hasn’t blinked.
“I…”
“You wouldn’t believe how we fought over what kind of potato to use,” says Ava. Saving my ass for the second time today. “I said Yukon Gold. But Riley was adamant that it had to be Russet.”
“Why?” demands Denise.
My smile is weak. “Well…they’re, um, so starchy.”
“Why does that matter, darling?” asks Noor with a supportive smile.
“I grew up in the desert. Mom didn’t make a lot of hot soups. But I would read about them in books about characters who lived by the sea. When they talked about eating chowder, I would always imagine it as this thick, warm, nourishing hug, you know?”
“You’re telling us you want to fondle the soup?” Denise gives me a long look.
“I wouldn’t use the word fondle exactly.”
But Jamal comes to my rescue. “Don’t be so literal, Denise. I agree with her. There’s nothing like a good dense chowder and Russets will give you that. You just have to be aware of the amount of stock they absorb and account for it later.”
“Exactly.” I sigh with relief. “Thank you, Jamal.”
Ava rewards him with a winning smile.
“Let’s keep going,” says Denise in a snooty tone. “I see you’ve added seafood, Riley?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Small shrimp and smoked salmon.”
“It’s a wonderful blush color.” Noor inspects the contents of the pot with care. “What’s created that?”
“Fresh chopped tomato and, um, tomato paste?” It sounds like a question. Not what I intended.
Ava nods discreetly.
“We’re running out of time,” announces Denise. “Skip ahead to the seasoning so we can do the tasting.”
My mouth is as dry as can be. “Of course.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor easing his way through the crowd. He pushes his sunglasses back up on top of his head. A little line is embedded between his brows. Worry or wonder, or I don’t know what. But his gaze jumps between me, his mom, and Ava. I would have texted him if there’d been time. Told him his ex had talked me into attempting to win over his mother.
His gaze meets mine and a small, calm fake smile settles on his face. He’s getting good at this shit. Guess we both are. Makes me wonder if lying about soup is a bigger or smaller sin than faking a relationship?
Noor clears her throat.
Right. I need to focus. I look down and take a deep breath. “The seasoning includes salt and pepper, bay and basil, capers and brine…though they’re not really seasoning, are they?”
“Doesn’t matter,” says Ava. “Keep going.”
“And, um…oh shit.”
Denise’s cool gaze drops to an icy glare. Apparently, profanity at her cookout is not okay. Not even a little.
The information is lurking somewhere inside my brain. I just have to find it. “There was, um…”
Ava, meanwhile, is mouthing something. It looks vaguely like the word fuck. Though I doubt that’s what’s intended. But it definitely starts with the an F. All three judges are watching and waiting. I can feel the growing impatience and concern. Which is when it occurs to me.
“Fennel,” I shout like a wild woman. “It’s fennel!”
Denise’s eyebrows just about jump right off her face.
“Sorry,” I say in my best inside voice. “Herbs are just so exciting, you know?”
No one answers. Though several children in the audience are now giggling.
“I, um, I thought a lot about the addition. The added flavors of licorice from the fennel and of course the accompanying lemon for serving and what that would give to the dish. Ava and I talked about it, and we decided we wanted the taste to have layers. For the dish to be rich, but also familiar and comforting.”
Nothing from Denise. But she picks up a ladle and a little bowl and serves herself some. Noor and Jamal both follow suit. One by one, they each taste the concoction. There’s a lot of lip smacking going on. Much care and thought goes into the process. Then the judges wander off to a quiet corner of the tent to discuss things.