The only thing that snapped him out of his fugue was an elderly woman coming by, smiling too knowingly at him. Getting away fromhertook priority, and he grabbed an average-priced pack of condoms and a small bottle of lube, and took those up to the cashier, who thankfully didn’t make a single comment.
Ten dollars later, he was walking out with his surprise, and a growing sense of anticipation brewing in his belly.
The hard part of this wouldn’t be getting to the sex.
The hard part would be practicing patience until he could.
Henry stood behind his station, waiting to learn the results of the viennoiserie round. It was gettingsparsein that kitchen, with only five of them remaining. But he couldn’t muster any real nerves about his chances this time. He’d gotten glowing remarks, especially on this final set of pastries: Aztec chocolate palmiers for the sweet, and little puff pastry pockets of chicken thigh, morels, and caramelized onions for his savory. Tristan hadn’t been far behind him, showing off a nice command of simple flavors. Onion and Monterey jack for his savory, and mango with a crumbly, Salvadoran dulce de leche for his sweet. Not that anyone had donebadly, but in Henry’s opinion, they both had solid spots in the next round.
Sure, I want to win this one. But at least I’ll be here next week regardless. And I’ll have long enough to figure out what’s going on with Tristan.He’d come back the day before with a bag Henry wasn’t allowed to look in, so of course there had to besomethingworthwhile in there.Even if there isn’t, I have to know.Would he be disappointed to learn it was a chocolate bar? Maybe a little, but solving the damnmysterywould be enough.
Sylvia cleared her throat, and the cameras all whipped around into their usual end-of-filming positions. A few focused up front, and the rest were set to pan and zoom through the kitchen and all the contestants. Once they stilled, Henry barely noticed them, anymore.I guess that comes with the territory.
“Well, you all took us on a trip to Vienna... Or is it France? I can never keep viennoiserie straight.” She paused a moment, some forced laughter went through the line, and then she picked her spiel back up. “There’s one among you who proved absolutely capable of handling the layered challenges viennoiserie brings with a cool, level head.” She scanned the room, then turned and pointed open-handed to the left. To Henry’s side. “Henry, congratulations.”
His face immediately split into a smile. He’d done it. And this time, the applause didn’t feel trite or obligated, even though it had to be the same as it always was. But on the receiving end of it... Yeah, Henry felt damn good.
I did it.
The applause subsided, and Sylvia offered a little wink to Henry before she continued into the second part. The less pleasant part.
Sylvia clasped her hands in front of her and scanned the room one last time, her mouth losing its smile. “But as these things always go, someone will have to leave us this week. You’re all great bakers and pastry chefs. No one is leaving now because they did a bad job with the challenges, but the judges need to be especially exacting. Youalldeserve to be here, but the rules have to be followed.” She groaned exasperation, her brows furrowed, and she pulled her cerulean lapels straight. “Dorian, I'm sorry. You'll have to leave this week.”
Dorian nodded and smiled. He took handshakes and claps on the back, and even Henry himself gave him a tiny salute, while he had Dorian’s attention. The man deserved it. He’d been solid all the way through.But we’re getting down to the meat of the competition, now.Skilled chefs were going to be heading home every single session.
Eli carried the cleaver back to his station. They’d set up his worst showing, apple and pecan turnovers with cinnamon puff pastry that hadn’t quite puffed up correctly, on the cutting board. Normally, whoever lost looked a little contrite or upset during this part. But Dorian watched rapt as Eli raised the cleaver and, in spite of his slender frame, slammed it down with a satisfying clunk, sending shards of not-quite-right puff pastry and glistening chunks of apple flying.
“All right, we’re clear!” Out came Jacob with a clipboard. He pointed the corner at Dorian over on the right. “Once you’re done and said your goodbyes, I’d like to have you record some voice-overs and interviews. Everyone else, we’ll get you next time like normal. No need to rush in early for filming on this next round. It’s just choux pastry. Won’t take very long.” He actually gave them all a smile, which was something Henry couldn’t recall seeing from the director before that moment. “Congratulations to the four of you, by the way.” He gave a brief nod to each of them in turn: Katherine, Willa, Henry, Tristan. “You’ve made it this far, and that’s a feat all on its own.”
Ouch. Couldn’t even wait until Dorian left?Henry glanced at their newest lost baker for any sign that it affected him, but got nothing. Still, it felt a bit cold for the director to congratulate them, and specificallynotDorian.
Jacob cleared his throat and lowered his clipboard to his side. “All right, we’ll be in the interview room when you’re ready, Dorian. No rush.”
He left and the line slowly broke apart. Production assistants carried out the day’s baking—the café table wasn’t looking nearly as full as it used to, anymore—Dorian said a few more goodbyes and thank-yous before heading backstage, and the judges... well, Eli and Rita left, but Dexter stayed behind, talking to Kristin.
Henry turned away from what was probably a private conversation and looked across the fare laid out, then stepped up and made a grab for one of Katherine’s sausage and fennel kites. She might have had a lot of issues making rolls, but the puff pastry on her kites was absolutely perfect. Dozens of layers of crisp, buttery delight, all surrounding a center of fragrant, sweet sausage and thin strips of fennel. She had a command of flavor, that much was certain.
But then at this point, who among them didn’t? Wasn’t that part of the reason they were still here? Flavor. Technique. Creativity. Flat-out skill and talent and training being brought to bear by the lot of them. It’s what had made the competition worth bothering with, at least for Henry. Competing against people who could do amazing things with flour and sugar and fat.Well, it sounds fucking stupid put that way.But it was true. Like alchemists, they could turn those base ingredients into incredible wonders.
And Henry had to damn well beat every last one at it.
“It’s a good spread, isn’t it?” Dexter slid to the front and, after a few seconds, he reached for one of Tristan’s cinnamon rolls and tore it apart. “You know, when I brought this idea to the network, I had this picture of all these professional chefs, all this high-quality food laid out just like this... and it’s real. You guys are actually making it real, and that’s pretty impressive.” He lowered his voice. “And so were your turnovers. I love proper use of figs. I know they’re out of vogue, but I can’t help loving the stupid wasp fruits.”
He’d won, and now Dexter Wilson was having a conversation with him about figs.I never could have predicted today. Never.“I’m a big fan too. Even after I found out about the whole wasp-pollination thing. I was that kid who liked it when we had Fig Newtons in the house.”
“I didn’t get to ask, what kind of figs did you use?”
“Oh, um, calimyrna.”
“I thought so. Butterscotch. Weird little figs, but undeniably good for sweets.” Dexter bit down on the cinnamon roll as he turned to Tristan. “And you, too. Those cheese and onion blossoms you made were outstanding. Monterey and smoked gouda, right?”
Tristan swallowed visibly, then nodded. “Yeah. The bite from the Monterey against the sweetness of the... the caramelized onions.”
Dexter winked. “It was a good choice. You put out an impressive spread. I mean all of you did, but... well, a standout’s a standout.” He backed up and shrugged. “Good work, boys.” He waved to them. “Nice chat. See you in three days, I suppose.” Then he moved in Katherine’s direction.
Tristan slid next to Henry. “Did... Was that strange, or was it just me?”
“I don’t know. What do you mean by strange?”
