Or the host, Dusti Hayes? Briefly she worried about that sweet Dusti Hayes, whatever her name was. She seemed okay to her. She had seen her sampling several of the other contestant’s food during the course of her interviews. She loved seeing Dusti flirt with Benny and seeing Jessyka squirm. Yes, she was okay in her book. She liked anyone who caused either one of them an iota of pain. She hoped Benny wouldn’t let her taste it before he did. But she just couldn’t worry about that right now. If the Dusti girl bought it, oh well. She’d have to be collateral damage. The goal was to destroy the man who destroyed her life. She didn’t know Dusti anyway. But if the girl did bite the big one, before the poison worked on Benny it might make her next attempt to get to the Sawyers harder. But she had to take the chance. She didn’t have any other ideas yet.
She needed to focus on this plan and stay positive. It could definitely work, Heidi thought. Now she just had to figure a way to get to the ingredients Benny would use in tomorrow’s episode of The Cook Off. She thought for a moment when an idea struck her. Chuck worked at the casino, and she knew he would do anything for her. He kept telling her that she was the best sex he ever had. And she knew that was true, because the guy wasn’t much of a looker. And not too many women would take it in the ass like she did. She did it because of the money, he wasn’t fabulously wealthy, but as an only child he had inherited some money from his dad, and he lived comfortably with his aging mother on an old home he would inherit too one day. She was hoping the old bat would croak soon and he would invite her to move in with him in that big old house. Her shitty trailer was expensive to heat and it took most of her paycheck just to the pay the bills there.
Chuck was the key. So far he gave her whatever she asked for, which hadn’t been much. They were still in the first few months of hooking up. He had no kids to support and no ex-wives to watch out for. He was okay. And she thought by now he would do whatever it took to keep her happy. He had been able to nab the tickets to the afternoon show because he worked security for the hotel and was assigned to those details at many of the hotels events.
That meant his key card could give her access to places she needed to check out. She would invite him over after she got the poison ready, get him a little drunk, they’d have sex, or she’d give him one of those blow jobs he liked to rave on and on about, and then she’d realize she lost her ring, the one that had belonged to her brother and meant so much to her. She wished she had a memento from him like that. But she had lost him too. Everything that ever meant anything to her. She would fake that story, and ask for his keys after making sure he was too drunk to come himself. Or better yet, he would pass out and even he wouldn’t be the wiser.
Heidi was just thrilled to finally have a plan. A plan she hoped would go off without a hitch.
CHAPTER 10
Benny was confident when the ingredient was announced as basil. He saw several of the contestants pick up various kinds of pasta from the table. He knew they were probably making a minestrone. He also saw the woman from Louisiana, Cathy Brister, grab some andouille sausage and knew she was probably going to put together a gumbo of some kind. So he knew the odds that there would be someone duplicating his French onion soup recipe were getting slimmer.
He’d always used basil in his soup. It was perfect. It gave the broth a nice distinct flavor that complemented the onions, the beef stock, and the red wine. The recipe was super easy too. The only problem was the onions. He saw several varieties on the table and grabbed one of each. He also grabbed a bunch of scallions. He liked to mix different flavors of onions together. Today he was going to be more careful. To make sure that he didn’t cut it to close on time, he was going to soften the onions in the microwave before sautéing them. He didn’t think it would cause the onions to lose their distinct flavors. Plus, it would help to speed the process along. The onions needed to be soft, translucent, but he didn’t want to cook them too fast or they might burn, and if that happened the judges wouldn’t be able to taste the basil.
Using the microwave to soften each of the four types of onions he grabbed, excluding the scallions, for just a few minutes would save him about 30 minutes in the sautéing process. At home he normally sautéed the onions for two hours on a low heat before he began to add his other ingredients. But because he only had two hours to begin with, he would need to use the shortcut and then only sauté the onions in oil for thirty minutes. Then, the soup needed at least an hour to cook down. This would allow the spices to resonate with the broth and the wine he planned to use. But once everything was cooking in the pot he would be golden. He’d make his homemade croutons then, grate his cheeses and work on his garnish.
He set to work right away. He peeled the two yellow onions first, and sliced them creating nine round circles. He separated the individual pieces and popped them into the microwavable bowl. Three minutes on high should do it. While those onions softened in the microwave, he did the same thing to the white onions. He pulled the yellow onions out, and then popped the white onions in and started work on the Spanish onions. As soon as he started peeling the purple bulbs something stopped him dead in his tracks. It was the smell. The sweetness wasn’t there. He lifted the onion to his nose and inhaled once more. There was something wrong with the Spanish onions. He dropped it into the trash can and then picked up the other he had carried. He cut it open. The strange scent was even stronger. He rotated the onion he was holding in his gloved hand looking for rot, but instead saw something even stranger. It was a pin prick. A needle? His mind spun. His senses were on high alert and he gazed around the auditorium but no one was looking his way. No one was acting suspicious. He rose it to his nose to sniff once more, but then thought better of that. Someone had tampered with them and God only knew what it could be. He swept all of the Spanish onions into the trash can below him and the cutting board as well. He was afraid whatever had caused that smell may have contaminated the wooden cutting board. He wasn’t taking any chances. He suspected foul play, and glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes was wasted. He needed a new plan, and later he would deal with the sabotaged onions.
He quickly removed his gloves and donned another pair after washing his hands thoroughly. And then he started over. He groaned inwardly when Dusti showed up to do his first interview already. He needed to check out the ingredients that remained and he also had to make sure no one else was using the Spanish onions.
“Hey, Kason. How’s it going?” Dusti asked in her usually bubbly manner. Once more her hand reached up to stroke his arm and then rested on his bicep as she held the microphone in her other hand out to him.
He was a bit distracted and feeling a little under the gun. His time advantage was wasted. “Um it’s good, I’m good. But I need to start over. There was something wrong with the Spanish onions. I was going to make a French onion soup, and I knew there was something the matter with the Spanish ones for sure. So, I am back to the drawing board.”
“Oh, that is too bad,” she murmured sympathetically not cluing in to the seriousness of the matter.
“Hey, Dusti, can you do me a favor? I don’t think anybody should be using those onions.”
Her face was a canvas of confusion “Well, um, I didn’t see anyone using them, but I will let the producers know.”
There was a flurry of commotion as several techs swept in to grab the onions from the ingredients table. Only Cathy Bister had one on her cutting board, and he was relieved to see she hadn’t used it yet. One of the techs was speaking to her and he had her change her gloves and wash her hands like he had done.
“Oh good, they seem to be taking care of that.” Another tech was scooting by his side, and removed his garbage can and replaced it with a now empty one. “We’ve got to be careful with food.” She must have heard something in her ear piece as she pulled him to the side “So, Kason, what do you think you are going to make now?”
He saw the garbage can being carted off stage from the corner of his eye. “I’m going to keep with the soup. I just won
’t be able to have the variety of onions I like to normally use. I just will have to use all yellow and white onions in the recipe. I hope there are enough. I’ll need to go to the ingredients table and see what’s left.”
“Okay, well, then I’ll let you get to that. I am sure you are in a hurry and you have a lot of ground to make up.”
“Thanks Dusti, I appreciate that. I have lost a ton of time,” he agreed.
And he had. He had lost nearly thirty minutes and that was why he’d decided to stick with the French Onion soup.
Benny glanced at the clock behind him one more time and knew he really needed to hustle. He’d have to think about those Spanish onions later. He raced to the ingredients table and grabbed two more white onions and one more yellow. He would just have to cook them together to save the the extra few minutes. And while they were softening he would start sautéing what was already prepared. They needed to really absorb the oil and spices for at least 30 minutes.
He set to work the moment he returned to his cooking station. Both onions were peeled and sliced in under a minute. They weren’t as neatly cut or as thin as he liked, but they would have to do. He popped them into the microwave and took the already softened ones out.
He turned and reached for the large cast iron skillet wishing now that he had already put it on a burner with oil and garlic on a low temperature, but there was just no time for regrets. Benny put the flame on the burner on medium high heat and added a generous amount of olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan and then some. He threw in the onions not bothering to wait for the temperature to increase on the oil. He didn’t need to scald them.
Benny contemplated using the already prepared garlic but just couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t sacrifice the flavor of the fresh spice. He took the cloves he had already grabbed and began the tedious work of peeling them. Once he had three done, he figured it was enough. He added a pinch of garlic powder for extra flavor, but having the fresh garlic in the pan with the onions would give them a nice rich flavor. The onions were beginning to sizzle and so he lowered the heat just a little bit.
The extra onions that he prepared were still in the microwave softening, and he knew they were ready to go in as well. He pulled them out with a dishcloth that was nearby and dropped the onions into the frying pan placing the now empty warm bowl on the counter beside him. He was glad to let it go because he had begun to feel the heat through the thin cloth off the towel he had absently used.
He knew he needed to slow down and be more careful. And not panic. He needed to remember what he learned in culinary school all those years ago. When it came to cooking, you could adapt. And that’s what he was going to do. He took a deep breath, centered himself, and started to add his spices just as the onions were beginning to turn clear. He used rosemary, oregano, the all-important basil, a dash of dill, two tablespoons of thyme, and the garlic. He dropped the temperature of the onions to medium low so they wouldn’t burn while he started on his croutons.
Then he headed back to the ingredients table hoping he could find something that he could use to shorten the process. When he didn’t see any kind of bread, he immediately became worried. Just as he was about to give up, he saw a loaf of rye bread behind a big bag of flour. Bingo! He snatched the bag and headed back to his workstation.
Benny took several slices of the dark rye from the bag. He placed three slices, one on top of the other, and then cut them into generous chunks. He took out three more slices and chunked them as well. Then he did it one more time. Bending down, he grabbed one of the baking sheets on the shelf below his butcher block. He sprayed it generously with cooking spray. Placing the chunks of bread on the pan, he sprinkled the rye with a little bit of sea salt and then pulled out a pastry brush from the drawer that held his utensils. He poured a bit of the olive oil into a bowl. He dipped the pastry brush into the bowl and began to lightly coat his homemade croutons. Then he placed the pan into the already preheated the oven.
Next Benny checked on the onions. They were looking good and starting to smell aromatic. Cathy’s sausage was permeating the air, but so was his concoction. It seemed like microwaving them haven’t done any harm. He let them sauté for another 10 to 15 minutes. That was the time it would take for the croutons to be ready. He had a bit of time now to focus on the broth.
He pulled out a large pot with the heavy bottom in which to make his broth. He placed the large pot onto the biggest burner and slammed the heat on high. He wouldn’t burn the beef stock, but he needed it to cook down. Fast. Heading back to the ingredients table, he grabbed two large containers of savory beef broth. He also grabbed a bottle of a red Merlot. It would be heaven.
He quickly opened one container of broth and dumped out its contents into the warm pot and heard the hiss of the heat. He repeated the process with the second container. And then he uncorked the wine. He heard the audience collectively sigh as he poured the entire bottle into the pot. He smiled and faced the crowd. He was in his element now. He played up the audience when the camera from above whirred in front of him. “It’s gonna be good!” The audience responded with raucous laughter. He didn’t know what possessed him to say that just as the camera was directly in his face, but he had a vison of Cookie, Fiona’s husband, repeating those words to him every chance he got. Last night, via Face time, Cookie had come right out and asked if he was wearing make-up. He had blanched. He didn’t care if they teased the hell out of for the rest of his life and that this show would make him the butt of their jokes for years to come, because although he was at home in a war zone, he was also at home in the kitchen.
He just kept grinning. He still had much to do.
But in that moment, Dusti showed up again to do her second interview. A quick glance at the clock told him he had an hour. He was feeling good. Better than before. He had gotten a lot done in thirty minutes. This time she didn’t stay too long either, which was a relief. She must’ve realized or maybe one of the producers had told her that she had spent too long with him the time before. He was grateful for that small reprieve because if she hadn’t left when she did, his croutons would have burned, and God forbid what was left of his onions. If that had happened he would’ve been screwed.
Benny carefully removed the rye croutons from the oven. Touching one with the tip of his finger, he knew that it was the perfect texture. It would be crunchy on the outside, yet soft and chewy on the inside. When he made his French onion soup, he liked to put a little dish of croutons next to the bowl, and some grated provolone mixed with mozzarella cheese beside it. In that way you couldn’t go wrong. The croutons never got too soggy, and by mixing the provolone with the Mozzarella, the cheese quickly melted but did not get too tough. But because he was getting points for display he would have to do that ahead of time. He just hoped that today his food wasn’t served to the judges last. They had told him that they would rotate the order for each episode.
Benny grated the cheese while the soup continued to boil down. He threw the onions into the broth but lowered the heat to medium so that it didn’t spill over causing too much of the flavorful broth to be lost. Glancing at the clock, he saw he was down to the last 30 minutes. It was time to focus on plating the food and presentation. He got four bowls, deep ones, though he wouldn’t be baking these as was often done when you ordered it in a restaurant. He always thought that the cheese got too hard that way though the edge and coloring when it was cooked that way added to the presentation. He just threw the cheese on top at the very last minute with a sprinkle of chives and a dash of black pepper for his color. He also reserved a crouton to throw on top for an extra crunch.
Benny began to relax at the twenty minute mark. There were still plenty of time and he was feeling very confident as he scanned the other contestants. Cathy Brister was looking a little upset, as was the local guy from Connecticut. He really liked Cathy and hoped she would make it into the next round. He hoped something hadn’t gone wrong with her gumbo.
As he stirred the soup to k
eep the onions from sticking to the bottom of the pan, he saw that Cathy was cutting burnt pieces off of her andouille sausage. He felt bad for the woman. He knew she had entered this competition for her family and her son. She had a loving family who meant everything to her. Last night when he watched the episode and saw her story and her package, both he and Jessyka had been hoping she would be runner up and wind the 50k prize. He was sure that after last night’s episode she was a fan favorite too.
The guy from Connecticut also looked upset. But from this position Benny couldn’t tell what had gone wrong with that man’s minestrone. Perhaps he had over cooked the noodles. Benny had done that a time or two and the macaroni had swollen so much that it had begun to fall apart.
When Benny saw there was only 10 minutes left, he began to plate the four bowls. He wasn’t going to have a repeat of yesterday with his heart hammering in his chest when the final buzzer sounded. He ladled three generous portions of broth with onions into each of the bowls careful not to let any of the brown liquid leave trails along the edges of the bowl. It could come down to presentation points, so he didn’t want to be sloppy. Next he dropped a handful of croutons into each of the bowls and watched as they absorbed the aromatic liquid. Next came the cheese. The mozzarella and provolone began to melt right away, and because the provolone was a shade darker it gave the appearance of a mottled look that would appeal to the judges. In the center of each he placed one more of his homemade rye croutons and then a few sprinkles of the chives and pepper to complete his concoction. He finished just at the two minute warning. And he was happy about that because it would give the soup time to cool if he were being judged first. And he knew the soup was good, delicious in fact, even at room temperature. He’d sampled it and though he missed the sweetness of the Spanish onions, it was still very good. The sugars from the wine gave it a full-bodied flavor.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Betting on Benny (Kindle Worlds) (Mystic Nights Book 6) Page 7