“You know,” Carmen said, sheepishly. “You’ve watched all the seasons on DVD with me.”
“But I can’t remember,” Alicia said, feigning amnesia. “When some up-and-coming designer starts complaining that her fingers hurt from sewing and she didn’t get the material she wanted in the challenge and the silly cat ate her pattern, what is it that Heidi and Tim say? I really just cannot remember.”
Carmen crossed her arms and leaned over, staring at the bottom of the boat. Then she whispered, “They say, ‘Make it work.’”
Alicia grinned. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you. What do they say?”
Carmen spoke a little louder. “Make it work.”
Alicia screamed, “I can’t hear you!”
Finally Carmen threw her hands in the air. “Make it work! Make it work! That’s what I’m going to do. Tropical Synagogue, baby. I’m about to make it work.”
They were both still laughing as they rowed back to Carmen’s house. Then they saw Sharon and Mary waiting for them and their smiles faded.
“You guys,” Carmen moaned. “I’m in my pajamas. What’s so important you have to be here this early?”
“Better get dressed quick,” Sharon said. “We have a surprise for you. It’s time for the first challenge! The audience is just going to love it!”
Mary nodded. “We can’t tell you what it is exactly yet. But it’s happening at one of Miami’s top restaurants, Michy’s. I hope you girls can cook!”
The two friends exchanged glances. This was going to be huge. Racing toward the house, Alicia quickly shot the rest of the group a text filling them in.
“This is bananas,” Alicia said, as she followed her best friend into her room.
“Bananas, but kind of fun,” Carmen agreed as she dashed into the bathroom. It was time for the quickest shower ever.
“Good thing you can cook! Gaz has work, and Jamie and I are hopeless. I’m pretty sure I can burn water,” Alicia called out from behind the closed door. “What are you going to make?”
“You mean, what are we going to make? Burned water or not, we are in this together,” Carmen said, emerging from the bathroom in a pair of white jeans and a white necklace T-shirt that she’d made herself, attaching strands of thrift-store rhinestones to the neckline. She was dressed to win.
The Project Quince crew drove Carmen and Alicia to Donald’s Cornucopia, a gourmet grocery store near Michy’s. Jamie arrived just as they got there.
As Sharon began to explain the rules to the girls, the cameraman, Arnie, filmed them.
All three of the girls were surprised to see that, as amazing as she was on TV, even Sharon flubbed her lines on occasion.
“I’m here with Carmen Romero. . . .” the anchor began. “That’s not right, let’s go again.”
“Sharon Kim here with one of the contestants of Project Quinte—I mean, Quince.”
Even when she made mistakes, Sharon kept her cool. Carmen, on the other hand? Not so much. She tried not to blush as a small crowd gathered outside the grocery store to view what was going on.
Finally, the television personality got her lines right. “Sharon Kim here,” she said, “with Carmen Ramirez-Ruben and Amigas Incorporated, one of the two teams in our first-ever Project Quince competition. Today’s contest is all about culture. Which quinceañera planners can cook the most delicious Nuevo Latino dish to be served as their party’s culinary centerpiece. You’ll have thirty dollars and thirty minutes to shop; then we’re off to Michy’s for cooking and judging.”
“Where’s the other team?” Carmen asked, looking around.
“You mean Simone’s?” Sharon asked. “She called to say that her client, Raymunda, needed some special Japanese ingredients for their dish. They’ll meet us at the restaurant. But stop wasting time.” She looked down at her watch. “You’ve got twenty-nine minutes to shop!”
Carmen took the money and the girls dashed into the grocery store, unsure of where to begin. Carmen ran to the vegetable section and grabbed several heirloom tomatoes that looked fresh, but then she heard Alicia call out, “Start with the protein!” So she ran to the meat section, with the cameraman following right behind her. It was odd having a person track her every move. She wondered if this was what it was like to be an actress in a movie or to be stalked by the paparazzi.
The minute she got to the meat counter, inspiration struck and she knew exactly what she would make: steak with red and green chimichurri sauce. She bought a steak she hoped was big enough, told the others what she had in mind, and then heard Sharon call out, “Twenty minutes to go!”
Carmen, Alicia, and Jamie dashed around the store looking for the rest of the ingredients they needed: parsley, garlic, olive oil, white vinegar, red pepper flakes, cumin, fresh lemon, bay leaves, and paprika. They ran back and forth, from the aisles that stocked spices to the produce section to look for ingredients to round out the meal.
“Five minutes!” Sharon cried.
“Go and pay!” Alicia yelled.
There was no waiting in line, because all of the shoppers had stepped aside in order to watch the girl’s mad dash.
The cashier added all of the groceries up. “Your total is $32.07.”
“No can do,” Sharon said. “It’s got to be under thirty dollars.”
Carmen made a quick decision and handed two items back to the cashier. “I don’t need the rice and beans.”
“Brave decision to do a Latino dish without rice and beans,” Sharon said, splitting her attention evenly between the camera and Carmen.
But Carmen just smiled. “That’s what makes it Nuevo.”
At Michy’s, the girls met the chef and owner, Michelle Bernstein. Michelle was like the cool older cousin you always wanted to hang out with. In a classic chef’s uniform, a white coat with her name embroidered on it, jeans, and purple Crocs, the woman radiated cool. Her wavy blond ponytail made her seem way younger than she was.
“So, I hear we have something in common,” Michelle said, shaking Carmen’s hand. “We’re both Jewish Latinas.”
“Really? That’s so wild,” Carmen said. Outside of her immediate family and a few family friends, she didn’t really know anyone who shared the same cultural roots. But before she could ask Michelle any of the dozens of questions that flashed through her mind, the cameras were rolling again.
“We are here at one of South Florida’s finest restaurants, Michy’s, for the first competition of Project Quince,” Sharon said. “Our two quinces will have exactly one hour to prepare a dish that shows off their Nuevo Latino flair. James Beard Award–winning chef Michelle Bernstein will judge the dishes.”
Turning to Carmen, Sharon went on. “Our first contestants are Carmen Ramirez-Ruben and her sous-chefs, Alicia Cruz and Jamie Sosa, from Amigas Inc. What are you making today?”
Carmen took a deep breath and tried to ignore the camera. She wanted to look as natural as possible. “I’m making steak with two chimichurri sauces and a red-chili-pepper glaze.”
“Sounds delicious,” Sharon said. “Now, our second contestants should be here somewhere.”
Sharon looked around, and from the back of the kitchen, Simone emerged with a girl dressed in a black ninja costume.
“Ah, yes. This is Raymunda Itoi,” Sharon said, gesturing toward the masked figure. “And her planner, Simone Baldonado. Raymunda, can you explain your outfit? And the dish you two will be making today?”
Raymunda whispered something to Simone.
“She’s very self-conscious about her accent and would like for me to speak for her while she continues to work on her English,” Simone said.
Sharon looked at Mary, who gave her a thumbs-up.
“Well, my producer says it’s okay,” Sharon said. “So, what are you and Raymunda making?”
Simone beamed at the camera. “Florida is the gateway to Latin America, just as Japan is the gateway to Asia, so our dish is a sashimi and ceviche platter.”
Sharon looked impressed. “That sounds de
licious. And what a well-thought-out concept!”
The members of Amigas Inc. looked at one another nervously.
“Okay, teams, it’s time to start cooking!” Sharon said. “Aprons on. Knives up. Go!”
At first, Carmen found it hard not to keep staring at Raymunda, who seemed perfectly comfortable cooking in what looked like a Halloween costume. She was also rattled by the intense camera scrutiny. But soon Carmen settled into a groove. She had learned how to make chimichurri sauce when she was a little girl, visiting her grandmother in Buenos Aires, and could make it in her sleep. It would be no problem making it in a fancy kitchen, even with a TV camera following her around as Simone stood next to a ninja slicing and dicing raw fish just a few feet away. Plus, she had her sous-chefs. Before she knew it, she was plating her steaks and pouring the red-pepper sauce, and the time was up.
Carmen’s dish was judged first by Sharon Kim, Mary Kenoyer, and Michelle Bernstein.
“Tell me about the two chimichurri sauces,” Michelle said when Carmen placed the plate in front of her.
“Traditionally, chimichurri is green; it’s got all the fresh herbs in it,” she explained. “But my mom, who’s from Mexico, likes a chunky tomato sauce, so I started exploring how I could bring that green flavor into a red sauce.”
“It’s delicious,” Mary said, taking a bite.
“You’ve done a really wonderful job,” Michelle said. “The steak isn’t overcooked, which is an easy mistake to make.”
“I like the glaze,” Sharon added.
“All around, an excellent dish,” Michelle said. “Do you want to come and work for me?”
“Maybe,” Carmen said, a huge smile on her face, “but it’s a package deal.” She nodded at her two BFs.
“Thank you to the first team. Next up are Raymunda and Simone,” Sharon said.
The girl in the ninja costume handed out platters of ceviche and sashimi to the three judges as Simone posed for the cameras.
The judges had taken only a bite of the dish when Michelle spat the food into her napkin.
“Your ceviche is not cooked,” she said. “If you only have an hour, you have to blanch it first. Fish cut into thick cubes will not cook in lemon juice so quickly; it’s disgusting.”
“The sashimi is okay,” Mary said hopefully.
Michelle took a bite. “For a supermarket maybe, because I’m pretty sure that’s where this came from. Overall, this is an extraordinarily disappointing dish.”
“This isn’t fair,” Simone argued, her face a rather disturbing shade of red. “Maybe this is how Japanese people like ceviche and sushi.”
Michelle shook her head. “That’s just ridiculous. Good food is good food. Like you said, both Florida and Japan are gateways. Unfortunately, your dish is a gateway to food poisoning. Carmen and Amigas Inc. win.”
The three girls squealed and clapped loudly.
Carmen could not wipe the huge grin off her face as she asked, “What do we win?”
“Michy’s will be catering your quinceañera free of charge,” Sharon replied. “Congratulations, girls. This will surely help make your budget stretch much further.”
“No way! You’ve got to be kidding me!” Carmen began jumping up and down. “Thank you so much!”
“Thank you. It was a wonderful dish,” Michelle said, shaking her hand and then moving on to congratulate Jamie and Alicia.
The chef then went over to shake Raymunda’s hand. “Better luck next time,” she said.
But Raymunda did not answer. She simply unsheathed her ninja sword and pretended to commit hari-kari.
“Did you get that on film?” Mary cried out to Arnie. When it turned out he had not, she said, “Raymunda, do it again!”
Hamming it up for the cameras, Raymunda pretended to stab herself with the sword once again.
Show business, as it turned out, was brutal.
IT WASN’T UNTIL the following Saturday morning, that Carmen, Alicia, and Jamie could meet at the Coral Gables Party Supply Store to choose the tables for Carmen’s quince. Sharon Kim and her team were also there, filming all of the action. The only problem was that it wasn’t quite as exciting—or natural—as the television team had hoped.
“I think you should do long rectangle tables forming a giant U around the runway; that way, everyone gets a great view of all the fashion coming out,” Jamie said.
Carmen walked over to the high-topped tables. “I’m thinking that I should skip the formal sit-down altogether and just do stations of appetizers.”
“People love stations,” Alicia said, a little too brightly as she stared directly into the camera.
“Cut!” Mary cried. “Remember, girls, we’re just flies on the wall. Talk to each other as if we weren’t here.”
“My bad, I’m so sorry,” Alicia said.
“Roll ’em,” Mary said.
“High-topped tables it is,” said Carmen.
“Now, let’s talk about linen,” Jamie put in. “White or ecru?”
“Cut!” Mary yelled.
“What’s wrong now?” Carmen asked.
“This is television,” the producer said. “We need action, excitement. You’re teenage girls planning the biggest party of your life. Can we feel the drama? Sharon, I think you need to jump in there.”
Sharon, who had been standing off to the side, nodded. “You’re the boss.” She gave herself a quick pat of powder and ran a brush through her hair, then joined the amigas.
Mary arranged the girls around a table with Sharon in the middle. Out of nowhere, four Diet Cokes appeared, as well as glasses of ice.
“Ugh,” Jamie said. “I never drink diet soda.”
“They’re our sponsors,” Sharon said. “So, if you want a shot at the prize money, which they are providing, I suggest you pretend.”
“I love Diet Coke,” Jamie said, holding the can close to her cheek.
“No looking at the camera,” Mary scolded. “Now, this is just some good-old-girl talk. I want to hear about boys; I want to hear about dresses; I want to feel the excitement. Roll ’em! Again!”
The amigas tried not to notice all of the customers and store employees staring at them, and they did their best not to look at the camera. But it was a lot harder to just hang out with Sharon Kim, as if chilling with TV stars were what they did on the regular.
“So, Carmen,” Sharon said, “tell me about your dress. Where did you get it?”
“I’m actually making my dress,” Carmen said. “I make all of my clothes.”
“Including the cute little number you have on right now?” Sharon asked.
“Yep,” Carmen said.
“How wonderful!” Sharon said. “And what color is your dress going to be?”
“Well, it looks like this.” Carmen took her sketchbook out of her purse. She flipped to a page filled with elaborate, colorful drawings.
“Are you getting this on camera?” Sharon said. “They are beautiful! I want to frame them!”
“Thanks,” Carmen said, shyly. “The red, green, and gold represent the colors of the tropics to me, and this lion is the lion of Judah, which is a symbol of faith for many people and is for me a symbol of the strength I feel when I’m true to myself and to my culture.”
“Now, you’re Jewish and Latina, right?” Sharon hedged. “That’s unusual.”
“A little bit,” Alicia chimed in. “But there are literally hundreds of thousands of Jewish people in Argentina, where Carmen’s dad is from.”
“Did you have a bat mitzvah?” Sharon asked, with a look that was hard to read. Was she interested for real—or for the show?
“No,” Carmen said, shaking her head.
“How did your Jewish relatives feel about that?”
“Um, not so good,” said Carmen, looking down.
“Did they feel betrayed?” Sharon asked.
Jamie put her arm around Carmen’s shoulder and shot Sharon a warning glance. “That’s kind of a strong word.”
Sharon loo
ked into the camera and said, “Caught between her Latin heritage and Jewish religion, a young bicultural girl struggles to find a place for herself in the melting pot that is Miami.”
“Cut!” Mary cried out. “That was wonderful, Sharon. Good job, girls. So, where do we go next?”
“I’ve got Hebrew lessons,” Carmen said.
“And I’m meeting Gaz to shop for silverware,” Alicia added.
“I’m going to drive around to all the Goodwills and charity shops looking for beautiful old forks and spoons and knives that we can polish and put into vases on each table for people to help themselves,” Jamie explained.
“Hmmm; what do you think will be most dramatic?” Mary asked Sharon, not addressing the girls.
“Hebrew lessons, definitely,” Sharon said. “I’m really loving this whole Jewish Latina subculture. I think we could do a whole series on it over the holiday.”
“I completely agree,” Mary said. “It’s got Emmy written all over it.”
The girls exchanged glances and Jamie said, “Do you mind if we steal Carmen for a few minutes?”
“No problem,” Mary said. “Just not too long. We’re on a tight schedule.”
The amigas stepped outside the store. “Are you okay with this?” Jamie asked, a look of concern on her face.
“It’s kind of weird having them around all the time,” Carmen said, shrugging. “They filmed my family having dinner last night, and they followed me from homeroom to history class the day before that. But it’s also exciting. We’ve got to win this contest. Quinces are our business. We’re professionals.”
“But they’re also asking a lot of personal questions about your Jewish heritage,” Alicia said. She lifted an imaginary microphone and, imitating Sharon, asked, “How do you feel representing the ‘melting pot of Miami’?”
Carmen shrugged again. “There are worse things. I could be representing the cuckoos in Coconut Grove.”
“Or the hoochies of Hialeah,” Jamie said.
The girls started laughing.
“Speaking of Hialeah, have you heard anything about Simone and her mystery client?” Alicia asked.
“Not a thing,” Jamie said.
Lights, Camera, Quince! Page 7