Fuck that. Elara could fight back in her own way.
She pushed up her sleeves and picked up the root.
“Boil this monstrosity, then dehydrate it into a powder,” she said.
“Then what?”
She flipped to a new recipe. “We elevate Mama’s parfait.”
Together, they penned out a revised recipe using the new ingredients. Gaetan was the perfect partner because he didn’t let her run wild but he didn’t inhibit her vision either. When they found something they both agreed upon, they went to work.
Gaetan smashed the calmante seeds with a hammer until the insides broke free. This he turned into a purée using only three of the seeds, because four, he said, would render the Counseil unconscious.
Elara and Gaetan created their own beautiful rhythm until the contest faded away.
Oven on.
Roots smashed and dried from a low and slow bake.
Calmante whipped into a delicate mousse.
A gel made from sweet raspberries and warm, honeyed vanilla.
“This might not work,” she reminded Gaetan.
He never wavered. “We’ll know soon enough.”
They brought the layers together, alternating and chilling each in perfect ratios of mousse, gel, and crumble.
“Five minutes!” Faucher called.
Elara sealed seven identical chocolate spheres.
“One!”
Gaetan plated them with crumble.
“TIME!”
Elara squealed as she laid the last curl of caramel atop the final dish, then tossed herself into Gaetan’s arms. He caught her and twisted her around. It was the first time she’d felt free enough to hug him as she used to. The first time she’d heard him laugh in four years.
Over his shoulder, she laid eyes on Nikolas, who was… scowling? If he was angry their plan had gone awry, surely he would understand once she explained everything. Except he wasn’t looking ather. He was glaring at Gaetan.
Faucher’s voice bellowed, “You will be called up one at a time to present your creations. After, the top five will be announced in order of their performance. First up, Charles Renard.”
The curly-haired chef who’d thrown her the repulsive root approached with delicate-looking desserts already melting in the heat.
Elara didn’t hide her smile when he received scathing feedback and left sobbing all the way back to his station.
Bellamy, with the uncle in Arts Manufacturiers, did the same.
Manon Gavreau had opted for a summer tart and floated by with mild comments.
Fiona delighted them with some rare Cael pastry.
Berina and Hector also walked away with positive remarks.
Then it was her turn.
