Angela smiled at him. ‘Sounds like you have it all worked out. I’m looking forward to tasting that. And what are you doing for your dessert?’
‘Again, I’m sticking with tradition and I’m making treacle tart. It was a favourite dish in my nan’s house when I was growing up.’
‘So, you’re making two dishes with shortcrust pastry as their base? That’s not particularly well thought out, is it?’ Louis smirked.
‘Yes, well, I did have a bit of dilemma in choosing this dish. In working-class homes, the abundance of carbohydrates was a good thing because everyone used up so much energy through manual labour. But for the competition, I’ve developed a cheesecake-base mixture, which will also incorporate a hint of ginger. And instead of custard I’ll be serving it with vanilla-and-rhubarb ice cream, a brandy-snap toile and stem-ginger syrup.’
‘Delicious. I can’t wait to try that,’ Angela said.
‘Well, Jay, it sounds like you’ve got a lot to do, so we’ll leave you to get on with it,’ Philip added before they moved away.
Jay let out a sigh of relief. He felt he’d deflected Louis’ objections well and he hoped he’d impressed the other judges too. Now he just had to make sure that everything was ready on time.
With the first few processes underway and the judges’ questions successfully answered, Jay’s nerves calmed and the muscle memory he had been counting on took over. So far everything was going like clockwork. He was glad he’d spent so much time practising because he’d ironed out the things thatcould go wrong before going in front of the judges. To his surprise, he even found he was enjoying himself. It was good to be able to focus on just the one thing without other distractions. But all too soon the judges were announcing that there was only half an hour left. Jay consulted his list of things he had left to do. The pie and the pommes Anna, along with the treacle tart, were in the oven. The liquor was simmering nicely and the ice cream was churning. It was just the finishing touches he had to do now and, if he carried on with the same focus he’d had all morning, he might just finish on time. He’d hate it if he didn’t get everything on the plate. That would feel like he’d failed before he’d even got to the judging stage.
Around him he could sense rising panic as the other chefs realised what little time they had left and tried to step up a gear. Then suddenly there was a loud crash.
‘Oh, sugar!’
Jay looked up. Rav had dropped a pan and there was sauce everywhere. Rav now stood mesmerised, unable to move. Jay raced over, grabbed the pan and scooped up the sauce that had spilled onto the worktop, and not on the floor, back into the pan.
‘Here you go, mate — probably not as much as you’d like, but not a complete disaster and at least the judges will have something to taste.’
Rav snapped out of his stupor. ‘Oh, thank you, you are a life saver.’
‘Not a problem. I’ll give you a hand clearing this up — don’t want any more accidents.’
‘Thank you, thank you.’ Rav grabbed a cloth and started to clean up.
Back at his own workbench, Jay tried to refocus. He’d lost some valuable minutes but he’d been glad to help, even if Rav was the competition. Now he just needed to catch up.
All too soon Louis called out, ‘Time’s up. Put your dishes at the end of your benches.’
Jay breathed a sigh of relief. He was ready, on time, and everything had gone according to plan. He’d done it. Now the judges just had to like it. If they didn’t... well, he’d done his best.
Around him, some of the other contestants were still trying to put the finishing touches to their dishes, but Louis wasn’t having any of it.
‘Stop what you’re doing and put your dishes to the end of your benches,’ he said. Jay caught his eye and suppressed a smile. It wouldn’t do to antagonise the man, but at least today he had shown he wasn’t scared of him. He couldn’t wait to tell Liz.
As he waited to be called up, he wondered how she was getting on with her scan. He really hoped that everything was all right with the baby. He knew how desperate she was for this scan to go well, for both her and Alex’s sake. As much as it was joyous that Liz was pregnant, Jay recognised it must be bringing back some very painful memories for Alex.
The first four chefs received mixed reviews from the judges and Jay felt a sense of trepidation. These judges didn’t miss a trick and they certainly weren’t easily impressed. He wished they’d call him up so that he could get the verdict over and done with, whatever the result. Then it was Rav’s turn.
‘Oh, this is just divine,’ Angela said as she tasted his dish. ‘What’s this called again? It’s got a unique flavour.’
‘It’s called shatkora. It comes from the Sylhet region of Bangladesh. Shatkora is a citrus fruit native to the area.’
‘It’s got such a delicate build-up of spice, not surprising as you had so many ingredients on your bench, and it’s tangy and exotic all at the same time. An excellent dish.’
‘Well, I’m grateful to Jay that the sauce was saved, otherwise you wouldn’t have had any to taste,’ Rav replied.
‘Yes, well done, Jay,’ Philip said. ‘I know this is a competition, but if you get to the banquet stage you’ll all have to help each other, and it’s nice to see some great team spirit at this early stage.’
Jay felt the colour rise in his face. He’d acted out of instinct rather than any need for praise, but it was nice to see that his efforts were appreciated.
‘And would you say this is a traditional dish for the south-east of London?’ Louis asked.
‘I would, yes,’ Rav said, his voice controlled. ‘From the 1950s, as part of the Commonwealth countries, many Bangladeshi people migrated to London to help rebuild the city after World War Two. We also came to the East End as a response to the Bangladesh Liberation War in the early seventies.’
