Love & Other Disasters(12)

They took out their notebook from their back pocket.

And started to make some serious plans for Spam.





CHAPTER FOUR


Dahlia felt the tiniest bit guilty about the excitement that poured into her veins when she walked onto set the following morning and saw the poor things: their gaping, airless mouths, their bug-eyed, frozen faces.

Jacob gagged next to her as they approached the feast of fish laid out on a table in the middle of the Golden Circle. It did smell godawful.

It also smelled familiar.

Today was their first Elimination Challenge day, and finally, it felt like a day that would go right from the start.

The funny thing was Dahlia wasn’t even super into fish, not really. But she had gone to a class run by some fishmongers in Baltimore last year, right on Inner Harbor, that had deepened her knowledge of the slippery creatures. Dahlia had learned most of her cooking skills from YouTube or blogs or, occasionally, if she was feeling fancy, real live cookbooks. But when she found classes or seminars that weren’t too expensive, like at the fishmongers, they were always her favorite. It was different to see things hands-on, to be able to ask questions. This was what she had been looking forward to on Chef’s Special the most, the ability to get hands-on advice from the best of the best. The ultimate leveling up.

She had her notebook at the ready when Audra Carnegie stepped to a smaller table set up next to the pile of fish for a demonstration.

The contestants jostled around each other to get a good view of Audra and her fillet knife, a large, shimmery rainbow trout laid out in front of her.

Dahlia, of course, jostled herself right into a shoulder wearing an army-green T-shirt, one that revealed freckled forearms dusted with strawberry blond hair.

Dahlia straightened, rooting her feet to the floor, and clicked open her pen. She stared determinedly over Barbara’s shoulder at the trout, like a professional-ass chef about to take some professional-ass notes.

She did feel a smidge better about her relationship with London now, after their brief interaction in the pantry yesterday. She still wouldn’t call them friends, but it appeared they had moved past whatever weirdness she had created in the hotel bar. Which was a plus.

Another plus: Audra Carnegie looked hot as hell, gutting and filleting this fish in front of them like a boss. Her dark skin shone under the studio lights, her braids swirled into an intricate knot on the top of her head. She went slowly and spoke calmly, but she never hesitated with her knife, with her skillful hands.

“After you make your incision behind the gill plate, we’re going to look for the spine. Remember, again—always, always keep your hand behind your filleting knife.”

Dahlia was delighted Audra was doing this demonstration instead of Sai or Tanner. She’d always felt like Audra got the shaft on this show, only thrown in for her feminine touch, her advice on plating, salads, baked goods.

But girls could break down a fish. They could scoop out innards with their bare hands. By the time Audra had two perfect trout fillets in front of her, Dahlia was ready to give her a resounding high five and begin smashing the patriarchy of the food world together.

But before Dahlia could get to patriarchy smashing, the thirteen contestants of season eight were sent back to their stations.

“Now that we all feel confident about breaking down a trout,” Sai Patel said with a smile, “there’s a small twist. Winners of yesterday’s Face-Off, please come to the Golden Circle.”

Lizzie, Cath, and the other Face-Off winners did as asked.

“Now, each contestant will be assigned a different fish today.” Sai gestured with an arm to the cornucopia of fish on the table. “And your advantage, Face-Off winners? You get to choose which contestant is assigned which fish.”

Intrigued murmuring ensued, and then Lizzie and company were let loose to decide the losers’ fates. They walked around the table, whispering to each other and making notes, until handing a final list to Sai.

Dahlia ended up with swordfish, which was significantly larger, and hence more difficult, than rainbow trout. She was happy with it, though. Such a funny and badass creature, the swordfish.

Dahlia leaned down and tapped its intimidating bill.

“I’m sorry I’m going to slice through your anus and tear your guts out through your throat,” she whispered. She could practically feel Jacob’s eye roll next to her, and she didn’t care. She felt good today. “I appreciate you. Thank you for your sustenance,” she concluded, with one more loving tap, before straightening. Jacob was staring at her.

Oh! She could use some of those peppercorns she’d seen yesterday in the pantry. They were so pretty, a dazzling mixture of black, gray, burgundy, and hunter green. Dahlia could already hear them popping in her pan, the sizzle of the swordfish in butter. Lemon peel, parsley, garlic. Something simple for a side. She started stacking the building blocks in her head, and anticipation buzzed in her toes.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Tanner Tavish raised his arms dramatically from the middle of the Golden Circle. “Prepare yourselves for your first Elimination Challenge. Your hour of fish filleting and cooking is about to begin.”

London groaned, both at the dead fish lying on a thick black mat on their station, and at Tanner’s ladies and gentlemen. Both, at the moment seemed equally irritating.

London had never actually gutted a fish before, which in hindsight seemed like an embarrassing skill to miss. Their assignment of halibut was a relatively common white fish whose meat London had cooked with before. But they had apparently never actually . . . seen a halibut. It looked nothing like a rainbow trout, London knew now.