Brian leaned across and inspected Evan’s knife work as he spoke to Dennis. “So Mei’s a seafood fan?”
“Yep.” Dennis grinned. “I’m definitely on a winner here.”
“Fabulous. It looks like you boys have everything under control. Don’t forget you can ask Chef Marshall one question if you get stuck.” They both nodded, then Brian and Chef moved along, the cameraman and boom operator in tow.
Once the tomatoes were neatly diced and waiting in a small bowl, he moved on to the basil, picking bright green leaves from the bunch. The fragrance of the fresh herb was amazing, even in the salt-scented outdoors. He chanced a glance to the station next to them, where Stephanie was working with John. She met his gaze and rolled her eyes before returning her attention to a large metal bowl in front of her. She was de-heading and peeling prawns, a task Evan hated with a passion, and once again, he counted his blessings to be partnered with Dennis—he may not be able to cook, but he was sure willing to give it his best shot. Next to Stephanie, John was a flurry of activity. It looked like he’d used every piece of equipment they’d been given, and the whole workstation surface was littered with debris—dirty bowls, chopping boards, salad items. Evan heard the tail end of the chef’s comments.
“—clean as you go, and you’ll find it a lot easier. Cleanliness and organisation are important in the kitchen.”
Evan sent Stephanie a sympathetic shrug. Based on the prawns that he knew Harry was allergic to, they were preparing a meal for Stavros.Argh, I’d hate to have my fate resting in John’s hands. Poor Stephanie. Poor Stavros.
He tore his eyes away and checked out the other cooking stations. He couldn’t hear the feedback to any of the other competitors or see what they were preparing, but the scent of food began wafting across the deck. Grilling chicken, some sort of curry. Evan’s stomach rumbled. He tried to focus on the pasta instead of his hunger, helping juggle the long strands now coming from the pasta machine that Dennis was cranking. Once the ribbons of pasta were curled in neat piles and lightly dusted with flour ready for cooking, they turned their attention to the dressing for the oysters. It was a simple mix—Asian-inspired with soy, ginger, rice vinegar, and sesame, and didn’t take long to whip together.
“Shit! I forgot the olive oil.” Dennis was back to looking worried as he gathered together the ingredients for the pasta dish. His panic only increased as the announcement came over the speakers.
“You only have twenty minutes left on the clock. And don’t forget you need time to plate up. Presentation is key! So, step on it, people.”
“You run grab it, and I’ll get the water on to boil for the pasta,” Evan said.
Dennis gave a nod and tore off towards the pantry. It looked like a few others were doing last-minute dashes as well.
Evan had just put the hot water on to boil when Harry ran past. He came to a rapid stop and backtracked a few steps. “Mmm… you guys look like you’re going okay,” he said as he peered at the organised chaos that was his and Dennis’s meal preparation.
“We are. Sort of.” Evan grinned. “Not so sure I can say the same about you.”
Harry was a mess, his apron covered in some sort of red concoction. He even had a smear on his cheek, but the smile hadn’t left his face. Actually, he looked adorable, all dishevelled and—
“Bit of an incident with the tomato sauce, I’m afraid, but some of it made it into the dish at least.” Harry chuckled. “Now we need feta, supposedly. I obviously”—Harry looked down at his splattered apron—“have no idea what I’m doing, but Stavros sent me to get it. I hope I can find what he wants, but I figure it can’t be too hard. It comes in a packet with a label. At least, I hope it does.” He laughed again. “Got to go or Stavros will kill me. See ya.”
With a parting grin, Harry took off, leaving Evan standing there watching his retreating back.So much energy!He looked like he was having a great time completing the challenge, despite his admitted lack of cooking ability.
Evan forced his mind back to the task at hand and ran through a mental checklist—they still needed to cook the pasta and throw together the sauce before plating up. He put a frying pan on the heat and lined up the dishes of prepped garlic, onion, basil, chilli, and crab meat, plus a small jug of cream. As soon as Dennis returned with the olive oil, they’d be ready to go, and Dennis could take over the cooking. Speak of the devil…
“Now what?” Dennis panted as he skidded to a halt, large dark green bottle of olive oil in hand.
Evan stepped back out of the way and indicated the pan he’d put over the flame. “Toss a good lug into that pan. It should be hot. Then sauté the garlic and onion. The water’s boiling; do you want me to cook the fettucine?”
Dennis nodded in apparent relief, and they each started on their tasks. They worked together like a well-oiled machine. The pasta only took minutes to cook, and while Evan was draining it off, Dennis was putting the last of the ingredients into the sauce. It smelled amazing, reminding Evan how hungry he was, and his mouth watered. He added the pasta to the pan, and Dennis gave it a final toss through, coating each strand with the simple but flavourful sauce.
“Mei is going to love this,” Evan said. “Here, give it a try.”
Dennis took the offered fork and brought it to his mouth. His eyes widened. “Oh my God. Mei won’t believe I made this!”
Evan slapped him on the back. “Well done, mate. I told you that you’d be able to do it.”
“Two minutes.” The final call was announced.
“You’ve got this.” Evan reassured Dennis, and they turned to plating the dishes.
8
Harry breatheda sigh of relief as he and Stavros stepped in front of their station that had been given a hasty clean-up before filming resumed. The dishes he and Stavros had prepared were now sitting on the gleaming stainless steel in all their glory. He may have been covered in rich red tomato sauce, but God, it had been fun. He didn’t think of himself as much of a cook, at least not at this level, but he’d had a damn good time trying. Maybe he’d even look at taking some cooking classes when they got back home, something John would never have considered doing with him—why cook when you can go out to a restaurant and have someone else do it for you? But now that he was single and didn’t have to worry about John anymore, he could sign up on his own. Maybe he’d even meet someone there.Do many single guys attend cooking classes?He found his gaze lingering on Evan and immediately looked away, embarrassed at being caught staring. Instead, he glanced behind him to check out their creations again. He hoped Stephanie was impressed with the tzatziki starter and the Greek-style chicken dish he and Stavros had thrown together.
“Thank you, guys and girls,” Brian said, “you’ve all done an amazing job in finishing your dishes on time. But now comes the important part—the judging. Joining you at the judge’s table to taste and assess each menu will be Chef Marshall and the special guest for whom your delicious meal has been prepared. Chef’s score will count for 40 percent, your score for 40 percent, with the remaining 20 percent given by the audience. So good luck! First up, Mei, please join Chef out the front.”
Mei smiled as she stepped forward and headed past the other stations on her way to the judging table. She gave a wink to Dennis, who looked nervous as all hell. He saw Evan give Dennis’s shoulder a squeeze and whisper something to him, Dennis relaxing a little at the words or the comforting touch.
Once Mei was seated, Brian spoke again. “The time has come. Dennis, please take the dishes you’ve prepared for Mei to the judge’s table.”
