“Good thing you were on your A game then! But then I’m not the one that incinerated cookies,” she retorted, sliding the small meat pies onto a cooling rack. Then she did some trickery with two plates and flipped the pies around, and suddenly they were all neatly out of the pans. “Good thing you worked up an appetite!”
53
Holly
“Ican't believe we're doing the bake-off on a Sunday,” Owen complained early the next morning.
“I'm excited,” I said. He pulled me back down on the bed. I kissed him then lightly batted his hands away. “I have to change.”
“You look fine.”
“I'm literally not wearing anything.”
Owen chuckled. “Just how I like it!”
*
For the RegencyChristmas bake-off episode, I was wearing an Elizabeth Bennet costume. With the empire waist and minimal petticoats, it was a lot roomier than my other outfits. I’d even begged Morticia to put my hair in an updo like the women inPride and Prejudice.
“Welcome to another episode ofThe Great Christmas Bake-Off,” Anastasia said. She, too, had dressed up in a long flowing gown. “It's a rite of passage for every girl to read and fall in love with Jane Austen novels, and Mr. Darcy is, of course, the dream man.”
Fiona whistled.
“Too bad none of the guys dressed up!” Anu called out.
Nick shrank in his seat. The camera's panned to Owen. He shrugged.
“While Jane Austen was fairly sparse in her descriptions of food,” Anastasia continued, “we do have historical records of what was served during the Regency period. We're all looking forward to some inspired Regency Christmas desserts. Let's start baking!”
In the Regency period, people tended to do a lot of boiling—boiling meats, boiling fruits, boiling puddings. It made sense, as they didn't have antibiotics or filtered water. But still. Boiled dough wrapped around apples was not the most enticing dessert.
I hadn't fully planned my dish because I had been busy with Owen, but I did know that in addition to the dumplings, I was going to make ices and ice creams. Though overdone, the Regency period was obsessed with flavored ices. Jane Austen even mentioned apricot ices in her novelThe Beautiful Cassandra. The thing I loved most about Jane Austen's novels was how idyllic they were. A few well-to-do families in a cozy village—that was how I liked my romance novels, thank you very much.
I looked over at Amber. She was going very avant-garde. She had a distillery set up, and judging from the smell, she was charring fruit in the oven.
I was going to go in a less-crazy direction with my dessert. The plan was to make an apple dumpling with a honey pistachio ice cream, to capture the nuts that they ate a lot of back then. I was going to boil the apple dumpling first, weirdly enough, but then I was going to deep-fry it and crack it open like an egg, nestling the ice cream inside with gooseberries for tartness, like a cozy little winter nest. The presentation might not be the most extravagant, but I was going to make it look pleasing with how I arranged the little bites. To give it an extra flair, I had special china I'd found at a thrift store. It was old porcelain with hand-painted birds and flowers around the edges.
Since the dumpling was the start of the dish, I first made the dough. Instead of pastry dough, I was going authentic; in Jane Austen's time they’d used suet, which is animal fat and flour. I rolled out the dough as thin as I dared. Then I chopped up apples and put them on the stove to stew with cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and other spices. I also chopped up a pear and added that with a splash of lemon juice. The filling bubbled away. If it was too moist, the dumpling would be mushy, so I needed it to reduce. I added some cognac then stirred some more and lowered the heat.
I needed to start my ice cream. To make it super creamy, I was going to use liquid nitrogen, which was so cold that it didn't give water crystals a chance to form in the ice cream. I chopped up the pistachios and mixed in the local honey I'd bought.
Anastasia was going around to each station, Zane following her with the camera, filming her as she talked to each contestant.
“And what are you making?” Anastasia asked Amber.
My stepsister had been passing me dirty looks all morning. I knew she was going to try to sabotage me again. At least since she was talking to Anastasia, she couldn't do anything right now. She was saying something inane about the Regency period.
I tried to tune her out and concentrate on the ice cream. I needed everything to be perfect before I made it. The liquid nitrogen could freeze skin instantly. I’d used it in the restaurants where I’d worked and had had safety training. I knew Amber was going to try something while I used it. I was not going to have her freeze one of my fingers off.
“I’m using these oranges for the Smoking Bishop cocktail,” Amber was saying. “See the oranges I charred? Oops! Ha ha! Dropped a couple. Good thing I made extra!”
A Smoking Bishop—now there was a Christmas drink.Owen might actually like it, I thought. It was similar to a mulled wine that used roasted oranges with cloves and had a smoky, masculine taste. Maybe for the Christmas party that I'd hinted about throwing? That reminded me, I needed to run through the checklist of the Quantum Cyber winter festival.
As I measured out the heavy cream, I smelled something acrid burning. Amber had sure screwed up those oranges.
“Oh my God!” Anastasia shouted.
Wildly, I looked around then down. “My dress!” I screamed. The hem of the long dress was in flames, a smoking orange scorching the floor next to it. “Help!” I panicked, searching for a fire extinguisher.
