Monday, July 22nd, 2013
"This is the first finale to take place outside of the US. I wonder what it'll be like," Abel muses, his hand resting on my upper leg as we are chauffeured to the set.
"I have no idea, I hope the kitchen setup isn't too different. I don't want to have to get used to a whole new setting while trying to get everything in order," I say with worry.
"Certainly Chef Ramsay understands the importance of a familiar workspace. I wouldn't be anxious about that." He runs his hand idly across my thigh. "What about your team? Are you worried about anything to do with them?"
I take a moment to consider his question. My team is comprised of Taylor, Bella, Shaun, and... Garrett. I cringe inwardly.
"Yeah. Garrett thinks it's my fault he got kicked off the show. But I'm sure it woulda been fine if he'd just told-" I catch myself from saying Gordon, remembering we'd put on mics before entering the limo- "Chef Ramsay about getting blood in the fryer."
"Do you think he's going to cause problems for you?"
"Well, I'm trying to keep him doing the simplest of tasks, but I'm ready to work with a reduced team if he starts something. What about your team? What do you think of them?"
"I'm pleased to have Dave. During my time working with him, he was always the most eager to listen and learn. And, of course, Mary is a fantastic chef as well. As far as Gina goes, I don't know much about her, but she seems serious enough about putting in effort that I trust her."
"And Kalyani?" I ask hesitantly.
"With her having been sent over to the blue team early in the show, I know her mannerisms well. She'll do excellent work for me, I'm sure of it."
The limo pulls to a stop, and I peer out the window beside Abel. The characteristic trident and giant steel HK letters stand in all their glory outside of a short staircase blanketed with a gorgeous red carpet that leads to a pair of glass doors. The necklace Gordon had gotten for me, the gorgeous ruby surrounded in diamonds, rests comfortably underneath my shirt. I absentmindedly pat my pants pocket where the package Tana had given me is tucked away. I'd barely remembered to grab it before the crew arrived and still have yet to open it.
The chauffeur gets out and opens the door to the limo for us. Abel slips out of the limo and holds a hand out to me, which I take gratefully.
"Remember, take it easy. If you need anything at all, let me know, alright?" Abel says as we ascend the staircase.
"Of course," I nod, looping my arm through his.
The set team worked wonders, it appears, as the entire building looks like they picked up and air dropped the set of Hell's Kitchen from California to London. Even the picture frames are in the same place as we walk down the long hallway to the dining room. When we turn the corner, Gordon greets us with a wide grin.
"Welcome, Hell's Kitchen finalists!" Gordon winks. "Ready to prep for your final dinner service?"
"Yes, Chef!" We respond.
"Excellent." Gordon rubs his hands together before clapping. "(Y/N), you'll have the left kitchen and Abel, you'll have the right. The others will arrive in a few minutes, but take some time to explore your surroundings before they get here. If you need anything, let me know."
"Yes, Chef!" We say again.
He opens his palm, ushering us toward the kitchens. Curiosity about the box Tana had given me itches in the back of my mind, so instead I head for the restrooms on the right side of the room. Gordon watches me with an inquisitive look as I disappear into the women's bathrooms.
I head into the nearest stall and reach for my pocket, pulling out the box wrapped in a plain brown paper bag and taped on one side. I rip into the bag and pull out the box, my heart leaping into my throat as I do.
A pregnancy test.
Honestly, so much has been going on–the finale, my first time with two men, Janice's spying–that there wasn't time to focus on my potential pregnancy aside from steering clear of alcohol and avoiding bacon.
But now, I have the answer to my 'what-ifs' literally laying in the palm of my hand.
Or, I will, in a few minutes. I take a deep breath and take the test. The instructions state that I need to wait fifteen minutes for accurate results, so I cap the end and wait.
"(Y/N)?" Taylor's voice echos against the walls of the restroom. "You in here girly?"
My head snaps up from my lap, and I instinctively shove the test as far into my pants pocket as it'll go. "Er, yeah! Gimme a minute!"
I flush the toilet and step out, smiling at Tay and moving to wash my hands. Taylor takes the sink beside me and washes her hands as well, looking excited.
"Man, I can't wait for tonight! I really want you to win, you've earned it," Tay says as she dries her hands. "How's everything, by the way?"
I turn to her and she raises an eyebrow, clearly implying more than she can say with the presence of cameras and microphones.
"Great," I start, "he's been perfect, really. I want to win, of course, but that hasn't caused a rift between us."
"Good, cause we're gonna beat the time outta him," Tay says, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. "Be sure to talk to me after all this is over, alright? Don't get swept away! Promise?"
"I promise," I affirm, heading for the exit with her.
When we leave the restroom, the kitchens are already filled with our teammates and the sous Chefs working on prepping today's dinner service.
"(Y/N)! There you are!" Gordon waves me over. I let go of Tay and approach him as Tay goes back into the kitchen.
"You'll need to determine who's on which station, right? I told them to be useful in the meantime. Please prepare me one of each dish on your menu and I'll taste it to make sure it's perfect before dinner service. Got it?"
"Yes, Chef!" I affirm.
"Good girl," he says, winking slyly before turning on his heel. "I'll be in my office if you need anything."
Gordon ascends the steps to his office two at a time, closing the door behind him. I take a deep breath, attempting to focus.
Today is the last day of Hell's Kitchen. In mere hours, our secret will be out. And there have to be plenty who already suspect something based on the tabloids. Oh God, I hadn't thought about the customers! Will they be respectful, or is someone going to try to get their ten minutes of fame? I recall the customer who tried to say my pizza was under-cooked and how Gordon came to my rescue, but he won't be able to do that for me this time. I'll have to show I can handle myself both at the head of the kitchen and in the dining room.
Entering the kitchen with my head held high, I attempt to push my fears to the back of my mind. I've had my time to be vulnerable, I've been saved time and time again, now it's my turn to save myself. I can do this. A flash of my parents' smiling faces blinks across my vision, and I remind myself how proud they would've been for me to make it this far. Winning the competition would just be icing on the cake.
"Hey, head Chef!" Christina calls out to me before approaching my side. "Do you know where you want your teammates?"
"I do," I say.
"Call 'em over and give 'em their marching orders, alright? I've got your back."
I nod as I tie on my apron and call out to the other chefs, "Could everyone meet me at the front, please?"
Taylor, Bella, and Shaun line up in front of me with a disgruntled-looking Garrett trailing behind them.
"Tonight is the biggest dinner service of my life, guys. I need everyone in my corner and your best work in the kitchen. I've got your stations decided if we're all ready?"
"Yes, Chef," my brigade responds.
"I want Taylor on meats, Bella on fish, Shaun on apps, and Garrett on garnish. We're serving forty people but make enough for at least forty-five in case there are mistakes. But for now, make enough for one of each dish because we need to present my menu to Chef Ramsay in the next hour. Got it?"
"Yes, Chef!" They shout, Garrett mumbling, "Whatever."
"Garrett, did you say something?" I call him out, hoping to nip his defiance in the bud.
"Yeah, I said whatever, I'll do the fuckin' garnish."
"Good, and I'll need you for the steak Diane later, OK?"
"I told you fine already!" He gripes.
"Garrett." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Listen. I didn't 'get you in trouble' because I wanted you eliminated. I said something about your blood in the fryer because that's a health hazard. I was thinking about our customers, not about one-upping you."
He grunts, not making eye contact.
"Think of this as a second chance. Prove to everyone that you are an incredible chef. Don't let your mistake define you and be the only thing people remember."
At this, something about his demeanor softens, if only slightly. "Yeah, Chef," he mutters before turning away and heading toward his station.
Hopefully, I made an impression. I feel confident, but I'm still going to keep my eye on him. I'm not yet as masterful at inspirational speeches as Gordon is. Or Abel, for that matter.
I spend the next hour going from station to station, helping my chefs prepare the menu for Gordon. Everyone does well preparing, but I know I can't be coaching over their shoulder during dinner service, so I can't take this performance to mean that dinner service is going to go smoothly. One by one, I set my plates out at the pass. I meticulously check over them, rearranging the components until the plates are as gorgeous as can be. When the hour timer is up, I'm confident in what my team has put forth.
Gordon emerges from his office and approaches the front of the kitchens, bouncing on his toes when he reaches my first appetizer plate.
"(Y/N), describe your first dish for me, please?" He asks.
"Of course, Chef. My first appetizer is brown butter scallops with corn, caramelized fennel, and avocado."
He takes a fork and tastes the dish, closing his eyes momentarily as he savors it.
"Delicious. I fucking love your scallops, always have. These taste incredible, but I would tighten up the presentation a bit. Don't let the corn splay around the plate, perhaps stack it under and around each scallop?"
"Yes, Chef," I say as he moves on to my second plate.
"And this dish?"
"Lobster Rossejat. Basically toasted spaghetti noodles, aoli, and lobster. Sprinkled with chervil."
"Impressive technique, I hope it tastes as good as it looks." He takes a bite, his deep blue eyes searching mine as he considers the dish.
"Who's on apps for you tonight?" He asks.
"Shaun."
He leans in over the countertop. "Are you sure you want him on such an important station starting off? I know he was your partner during the back to school challenge, but you don't know his ability to preform in such a time-sensitive position. I ask because these noodles are slightly under-cooked. Taste."
Gordon takes a fork and twines some noodles onto it, holding the fork out for me. I blush at the gesture, but stifle the reaction as best as I can as I take his offered bite. The noodles are indeed under-cooked.
"Wow, I didn't expect that," I say. "We made spaghetti together from scratch. I would've thought he had noodles in the bag." I glance over at Shaun who is hard at work prepping his station. "But yes, I'm sure I want him on apps. I trust in him and his abilities."
"Could be performance jitters, give him a pep-talk and he should shape up," Gordon suggests, pulling the third appetizer plate over to himself.
"Describe this to me?"
"Saffron and garlic infused potato croquettes with soft boiled quail eggs, Chef."
Before he takes a bite, he looks at me. "Make sure you make extra soft boiled quail eggs, you must plan for at least a third of them to break. They require a gentle touch and not everyone can manage that."
"Of course, Chef."
He takes a bite. His expression shifts to one of pondering as he evaluates the dish.
"Good, I like how you've set them in a neat little triangle as well. Onto your entrees, what have you got for me?"
I slide the first entrée in front of him. "Salmon with lobster cream sauce on a bed of Jasmine rice, sprinkled with parsley and a side of sautéed spinach."
"Simple and easy, hopefully it helps your kitchen get out entrees quickly." He forks some and tastes it.
"More butter in the sauce, but otherwise excellent. Onto the next." He waves the plate forward.
"Stuffed mushrooms with Boursin cheese, breadcrumbs, onions, peppers, and artichokes."
"Ah, good, a vegetarian option." Gordon takes a mushroom to his lips and bites it. "I like it," he says, nodding as he pulls the next dish to himself and waits for me.
"A flambe steak Diane, Chef."
"I remember Christina asking me about this one, quite bold of you to send someone out onto the floor where you can't keep as good of an eye on them. Make sure you trust them to do well, or they'll hold you back severely. It takes twice as long to remake food in front of the customer rather than in the kitchen, especially if you need to trade out chefs to accomplish it." He eats some. "It's great, keep it just like this."
I swallow hard, thinking of Garrett. Will he be better for me after our talk, or am I being blindly hopeful? If a single steak Diane gets sent back, I'll send someone else out, I decide.
"Alright, Chef. I'll keep what you said in mind," I say as he approaches the next plate.
"This looks good. Tell me about it, love."
"Venison, pan-seared with rosemary salt and garnished with dried cherries."
Gordon smiles. "Were the cherries Christina's idea?"
"Yes, how did you know?" I ask.
"Christina loves cherries with venison," he states knowingly. "She isn't wrong, cherries are fantastic with game meat. Let's try it."
As he tastes the dish, I consider how much he seems to know about everyone in his life. Even Christina has a special place in his mind just for her. How much must he know about me by now? The thought draws a small grin to my lips before Gordon's words snap me to attention.
"The venison is cooked beautifully and basted to perfection. A few less cherries and it's perfect. What's the last entrée?" Gordon asks, picking up the final entrée plate.
"Cheesy garlic shrimp with spinach alfredo, Chef." I watch intently as he tries it.
"Darling, what's wrong with this shrimp?" Gordon holds a shrimp out to me. A thin black line clearly runs down its back.
"It hasn't been cleaned properly, Chef." I grimace, looking over to where Bella is preparing the fish station, oblivious to her mistake. Was it the right idea to put her there? Why am I having to second-guess myself so close to the start of dinner service? First Shaun, then Garrett, and now Bella have me anxious as to if I've made the right decision on not only which station they should be at, but if I've got the right team.
"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Gordon asks with concern, reaching his arm over the pass and resting his hand on my shoulder.
"Yeah, Chef." I shake my head to clear the doubtful thoughts. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"If I've made the right decisions," I say, my voice soft. When I look at him, his eyes are full of understanding.
"I'm sure you've done everything you can to ensure the best dinner service of your life tonight, darling. Don't let uncertainty get to your head." He squeezes my shoulder soothingly before retracting his arm and returning his attention to the plate before him.
"Take each chef one-by-one into the back to have a discussion. Pull everyone–even if they haven't made a mistake–so no one feels singled out."
"Alright, Chef." I nod, trying to keep my anxiety at bay.
"Onto the desserts." Gordon claps his hands, rubbing them together as he eyes the first dish.
I know Gordon has a sweet tooth, so I hope that he'll love my first dessert, the one I'd been daydreaming about making for a while now. "Hollowed out strawberries filled with dark chocolate mousse, dipped in white chocolate, and drizzled with milk chocolate."
"I'm getting cavities just hearing you describe this dish," Gordon says playfully before he picks up the stem of one strawberry and bites into it. "Superb, I wish I could eat more," he says, looking at me and smirking subtly.
Alright, I got the hint, I dip my head in acknowledgement.
"Next?"
"Mini cheesecake made from goat cheese and crème fraîche with wine gelées on top for color and flavor. Kind of like a play on cheese and wine," I say.
"Brilliant," Gordon says, using a spoon to scoop some cheesecake. "Interesting blend of flavors, tart and not too sweet. I like the size as well, nicely done."
"Thank you," I respond, smiling.
"Last dish, what've you made?"
"The restaurant inspired this one Chef, I wanted to make bread pudding with bourbon sauce," I say, sliding the mug to him.
He uses a spoon and takes some bread pudding along with bourbon sauce to his lips.
"Hmm, make sure you keep the bread pudding warm and serve it in a glass so the customer can see it better and I say you've got a winner, (Y/N)."
"Thanks for the help, Chef," I say sincerely.
"Any time at all," Gordon responds before turning to Abel's masterfully crafted plates.
Time to talk to everyone individually and make sure I pass on everything Gordon suggested. How could I have missed so many mistakes?
"Taylor, can I speak to you in the back?" I ask.
"Sure thing!" Taylor wipes her hands off and heads to the pantry. I follow close after her, closing the door with a click behind us.