“And I’m sure you could tell us all the varieties,” said Rita. “Not to enforce stereotypes, but I’ve never met a Washingtonian without opinions on apples.”
“You wouldn’t be wrong.” His stewed apples were Granny Smiths. The buttercream had Golden Delicious and Honeycrisp. He had slices of Pink Ladies and Winesaps candied and drying at the moment for decoration, and the apple cake was that super classic Red Delicious flavor, mixed with Jonagolds for a little change and surprise. So many apples. “And then winter is all about indulgence, so I made it my smallest tier, and I packed in the richest flavors I could. It’s a coffee sponge cake filled with whipped cream and chocolate ganache. The buttercream is flavored with all sorts of those good warm spices, and then I’ll cover it in this Swiss meringue and toast the whole thing.”
“That is alotof work.” Dexter clucked his tongue. “You going to be able to finish it up in time?”
“No problem.” Maybe some problem, but Tristan was feeling too good for that idea to take hold. He’d do it and he’d make a good presentation for judging.
“Well, I look forward to it.” Dexter slapped the counter a couple of times. “Good luck, Tristan.”
“Thank you.” It might take a little luck. However talented he might be—because Tristan couldn’t deny he had some skill, no matter how incredible his powers of self-deprecation might be—Henry was just as good. There was no guarantee it would turn out any one way or the other.
And although Tristan would be ecstatic for Henry if he won... he’d be even happier ifhewon the money. Yeah, he’d talked to Lucia, and she planned to pitch in when she could. That didn’t change his circumstances though. He still needed to get access to the big money.
With the waiting portions out of the way, Henry could relax. He wasn’t going as traditional as he maybe had in the past. At least not with his flavors. But if he was going to play to his strengths, this fucker wouldlooktraditional.
The judges walked from Tristan over to him. Eli smiled. “So, you feeling good about today?”
“I’m feeling great. Everything’s going to plan, and I love it.”
Eli's grin widened. “Well great, then let us in on the plan.”
“So, I have a five-tiered cake, and I honestly just wanted to include things that I love in it. I’ve got a mixed berry cake with lemon curd and lemon icing, a cake full of all different kinds of seeds that I’m pairing up with a bourbon vanilla buttercream, a pineapple upside-down cake with a twist—”
“Pineapple upside-down cake as a cake layer?” Rita raised an eyebrow. “You’re not worried it’s too dense and wet?”
“Not in the least.” It had been a bit tricky to cut enough moisture from it for structural integrity, but he’d managed it nonetheless. “Now that’s paired off with a coconut and rum French meringue, and then there’s a nice ginger cake. Just piles of ginger everywhere I could get it in there.”
“But that’s only four layers,” said Eli.
“Well, the fifth layer is a surprise, and I don’t want to ruin it.”
Eli’s eyes sparked. “I wish you luck and look forward to your surprise.”
Yeah, so do I. In all his practice runs it had worked fine. No real mess. But there was always a chance that it might not play nicely with him today.
With the judges gone, Henry went on to icing his cakes, starting with his top layer, smoothing the final presentation coat over his crumb coat. Cakes, even this size, weren’t hard work, per se. Sometimes temperamental, often tedious, but Henry had made so many cakes that it wasn’thardto do it.
Once he had that tier iced and smooth, he popped it back into the fridge, then checked the clock. They still had two hours to go, and that was perfect. He wasn’t running tight quite yet. Henry looked across the way at Tristan. He was piping something around the outside of one tier. The cake itself was beautiful and glossy and certainly held its shape well. He’d overtaken the station behind him for his cakes as well. Four tiers, and none of them were delicate little baby cakes. They were allsubstantial, which felt right for Tristan.Crazy flavors and giant cake tiers in all sorts of bold designs. It’s going to be hard to get those out of my head when we get back home.Would Tristan be happy going back to classic white wedding cakes trying to emulate sixteenth-century Paris?
The sweets and cakes he’d made during this competition?Thosewere Tristan, not some frilly, white ruffle cake that a hundred brides saw in a magazine.
Henry sighed. He could have easily sat there for another ten, fifteen minutes watching Tristan apply decorations, work different batters and confections into perfection. But there straight-up wasn’t time for that.
I guess that’s on my list to make time for when we’re done.Henry turned back around and looked through his list again.Should probably get the pineapple soaking in the rum now.It needed time to properly soak up the liquor, and then to sit and mellow some of that boozy bite.
There was work to be done, but Henry felt a lot more in control with “work to be done” than “waiting aimlessly and hoping things turn out.” Considering this was the finale, he didn’t feel all that panicked. He was almostZen. This was the moment he had come here searching for, one of true competition. And a worthy adversary. Going up against someone like Tristan Delgado was forcing the very best out of him.
He cracked his knuckles, then pulled out his pineapple chunks.Let’s go.
Judging was on them faster than Tristan could comprehend. But this time, when he was called to the front, Henry could help him again. Which certainly seemed to excite him. As the judges tasted and re-tasted, Henry kept flashing him little grins and winks from across the room.
“Tristan.” Rita’s gentle voice cut through the quiet. “This was stunning. The layers here flow well together and tell a cohesive story.”
“It does,” said Eli. “The coconut is exquisite.”
“No, it’s the apples.” Dexter pointed to that autumn layer with his fork. “They make it quite moist. Everything was pulled off beautifully, so I don’t doubt you used your time well. But I still can’t help but wonder what you might have accomplished if you’d gone a bit smaller on each tier. A touch more complexity, perhaps.”
That critique would have sent Tristan spiraling a few days ago, but now he nodded. “That’s fair. But I stand by the decision.”
