Chef Cutegirl: A Sweet Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  “Did you overhear any of their dishes?” I asked.

  “Fried pickle spears with a truffle aioli,” said Tina. “They’re making their own pickles, of course.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “We’re going to have the taste and the presentation. The judges are going to love our dishes.”

  “What should we have Raina do?” asked Tina. “I mean, the girl can cook but she also has perfect prep skills.”

  “I say we have her butcher and cook the lamb,” I said. “Mags, what do you need for your dessert?”

  “I’ll do all the prep for my beignets,” said Maggie. “But we’ll fry them to order so maybe Raina could handle that while I’m working front of the house?”

  “I think we can all chip in for that,” I said. “It should be easy. What else do you have for them?”

  “Um,” said Maggie, looking into her notes. “Blackberry compote and a crème anglaise.”

  “You just show us how you want them presented tomorrow,” I said. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem for any one of us to nail that.”

  “Perfect,” said Maggie.

  “You know what’s crazy?” asked Tina, looking back and forth at Maggie and I. “We made it to Unruly Restaurant! Isn’t this just a dream?”

  “It happened so fast,” said Maggie. “And I’m so happy to do it with you girls. Sometimes on TV you see the teams have a tough time working together. But I think we gel really well.”

  “Seconded,” said Tina. “This is such an amazing experience.”

  “Emily,” said Maggie. “If you win Hot Chef, how do you think it’ll change your life?”

  “Are you kidding?” I said incredulously. “First, that money. Right?”

  “Right!” said Tina.

  “I mean, I’ve lived like a poor person for my entire adult life,” I said. “People think just because they might pay $30 a plate at a restaurant that the chef is rolling in it? Cuckoo!”

  “You got that right,” said Maggie.

  “It’s my boss that drives the Mercedes,” I said. “And sometimes I think even he is faking it. It’s a tough business.”

  “Yeah, they say if you want to go broke fast, the best thing to do is open a restaurant,” said Tina. We all laughed again.

  “Right,” I said. “So I’ll probably open a restaurant with my winnings.” We laughed harder.

  “I think we all would,” said Maggie. “That’s just how chefs think.”

  “We want to really be in charge of our own ships,” said Tina.

  “But you know,” I continued. “The notoriety from winning Hot Chef, that’s super valuable too. The winner can go on to be a successful restauranteur or they can opt to become a celebrity chef if their personality is good enough.”

  “Yeah,” said Maggie. “You know, I think it’s the interviews that really do it for you if you want to go that route.” If you’re unfamiliar with Hot Chef, spaced throughout each episode are individual interviews with the contestants about how they’re doing in any given challenge, issues they’re having with competitors, that sort of thing. If you’ve seen reality TV shows, you know what I’m talking about. We’d all been filming the interviews along the way, but nobody was sure exactly how they’d be used. The editors were known to slice them up pretty substantially.

  “Hmm,” I mused. “I think I’m kind of a sourpuss sometimes in my interviews.”

  “Yeah, you’d probably be better as a no nonsense restauranteur,” said Tina. “Or the jerk judge on some cooking show.”

  “Hey!” I protested. “The jerk judge?” The girls laughed at me.

  “That’s just your personality,” Maggie said. “You’re not really a jerk, just kinda… brusque.”

  “Brusque, huh?” I said. “You’re funny.”

  “We love you, Em,” said Tina, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get back to work. Morning will come before we know it and tomorrow is going to be huge.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “Let’s talk about the steak tartare, yeah?”

  The three of us continued on in our preparations, eager to really stick it to the boys and impress the judges. Nobody was safe from elimination anymore, which made everybody — both on our team and theirs — eager to put as much work as they could into the challenge to secure a win. It was getting down to the wire on Hot Chef and it really was anybody’s game. I was eager, in this particular challenge, to show what a leader I was in the kitchen and I knew I’d have my opportunity with Maggie up front, Tina on apps, Raina picking up the slack, and me executing and expediting.

  I wish I could really put into words how cool it was to be on Hot Chef and to make it this far. There’s no feeling like it. Well, maybe I could liken it to that funny romantic feeling you get when you meet the girl of your dreams. Or maybe I was just feeling that feeling for Raina and Hot Chef was all muddled in there. I don’t know. I don’t care. I just felt amazing and ready to take on the world.

  *

  “Fire 3 lamb, 1 duck, all day,” I said without looking back, gazing into the ticket that one of the waitstaff handed me. I stood at the front of our kitchen, plating the dishes, working with the waiters and waitresses, overseeing the other girls, trying not to totally swoon and dwell on watching Raina expertly handle the proteins. I was good at expediting and I really enjoyed it, too.

  “Yes, Chef,” I heard Raina say from her station behind me.

  “We’ve got a deuce at table 20,” I continued. “That’s 2 tartare to start, 1 lamb, 1 duck on deck.”

  “Yes, Chef,” Raina and Tina said together.

  Raina speedily approached me and slid two dishes in front of me, returning to her station just as quickly as she came, as I gingerly cleaned up a few spots of sauce from the plates and started to dress them. I was in my element. In the zone. When you’re in such a state of flow, it’s easy to succeed. You just let your muscle memory do the work for you. And even though Raina and I weren’t exactly right yet, it was a huge boost of confidence to have her working behind me. It kind of made me feel like I could accomplish anything.

  Coming around the corner from the dining room was Maggie, dressed in a black blazer, a white blouse, and black tights, looking professional and fancy, and following after her was one of our usual cameramen. I looked up and made eye contact with her. I knew what was coming.

  “Judges at table 5,” said Maggie, slamming their ticket down on my counter. “We’re up first, the boys are second. Let’s fucking destroy them.” Maggie then made an embarrassed face and looked toward the cameraman. “Sorry!”

  “They’ll bleep it,” I said, lifting up the dishes I had finished dressing and sliding them to the counter. A waiter hoisted them up and sped off. “How many?” I said. “We got 4 judges?”

  “Yep,” said Maggie. “Four of everything.”

  “Let’s keep our pace,” I called back to Raina and Tina. “The judges aren’t skipping the line in this kitchen.”

  “Yes, Chef,” said the girls in refrain.

  “Damn Em,” said Maggie with a smile. “Well-oiled machine.”

  “That’s how I roll, Maggie,” I said with a knowing grin. Taking the judges ticket, I glanced over it and then called back. “Four top at table 5, give me 4 tartare, 4 mussels, with 4 lamb and 4 duck on deck.”

  “Yes, Chef,” I heard them say.

  “I’ll be back shortly to help you take the plates out to the judges,” said Maggie.

  With that, Maggie scurried away as the rest of us continued in our roles. I took a peek back and saw both Raina and Tina with their heads down, focused on the food in front of them. It was magic. When you’ve got a good group together in the kitchen, it’s just flippin’ magic. I took a deep breath, expressed some gratitude for it all for just the most fleeting of moments, and then returned to the tasks in front of me.

  The cameraman that had approached with Maggie hung around to continue filming us and I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a couple lackey members of the production staff slither up nex
t to him. One the guys whispered something to the cameraman and then all 3 of them came behind the counter and entered the kitchen.

  “We’re going to do some quick filming back here,” said Lowell, a young guy, someone I often saw hanging around with Dale.

  “Fine,” I said. “Just don’t get in the way. We’re moving quick.”

  I couldn’t help but feel suspicious. There was just some kind of weirdness in the air that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I made sure to keep an eye on them all as I dressed yet another plate that Raina had slid in front of me. I felt uneasy. I didn’t like the way Lowell was slinking around.

  “Judges’ table,” said Tina as she delivered the app plates to me in two trips. Once I tweaked them each slightly, Tina and I together lifted the plates up and began placing them on a serving tray.

  “Fire table 5,” I called back to Raina, letting her know that I wanted her to begin with the judges’ mains. In addition to the cooking time, the proteins all needed to rest to get the appropriate amount of tenderness. It was like a dance in the kitchen. Timing had to be perfect.

  Raina obeyed, getting the lamb in the pan with a bright sizzle of oil. Then, taking a couple already completed plates for other diners, she quickly approached me to deliver them. My eye, ever vigilant, caught Lowell slinking around near Raina’s station.

  It took me a moment to process and respond, but as soon as I realized what was happening I dropped a spoon full of chopped parsley onto my expediting station and bolted over to Raina’s station. Pulling my hand back, I brought it down on Lowell’s wrist hard just as he was pulling his fingers back from the knob of Raina’s burner.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded. You could hear a pin drop. Both Raina and Tina looked over to me, as well as the waitstaff that were hanging around in anticipation of their tables’ dishes.

  “I— um,” said Lowell, slinking away from me, stepping backwards as he tried to make his escape.

  “Is that really how this is gonna be?” I said. “I know what you’re trying to do. Get the fuck out of my kitchen… right… fucking… now!”

  Lowell had fear in his eyes and I don’t blame him. The girls were right last night when they told me I could be brusque. In fact, I could be a little more than brusque when challenged. You don’t make it to my position by letting people walk on you. You’ve got to stand up for yourself because if you won’t do it, no one else will.

  “And you tell Dale,” I said, as Lowell tried to scurry away. “That he can get fucked!”

  I hoped to God that the cameraman was getting all this. I mean, with Dale in charge I was resigned to the fact that not much would come from this. But I wasn’t about to be sabotaged. I wasn’t about to be pushed around. I wanted to win so bad, despite all the shit drama that they tried to toss my way.

  Once Lowell and his other production toady ran off, the cameraman following along with them, my eyes darted to Raina who had the most sincerely apologetic expression dripping off her face. She looked almost hurt, hurt in way that said, “I can’t believe I did this to myself.” In that moment, she realized that it wasn’t me who had sabotaged her. There was no way it could have been me. It was the show’s production staff, either trying to thwart us at Dale’s command because Raina wouldn’t bend to him, or just some sick and twisted way to add a bit of drama to the show. Fucking reality TV.

  “I’m sorry,” said Raina, near soundlessly, frozen there in her stance. I just shook my head and let a smile slowly paint over my face.

  “Stations!” I commanded. Raina and Tina instantly snapped back to our reality and soldiered on.

  “Yes, Chef!” they affirmed together.

  As we all deftly returned to our work, tensions high from what had happened, Maggie slid back up to the counter with the swishing sound of her flats running over the tile.

  “Are we ready?” she asked.

  “Let’s do it,” I said. She and I both took up two plates with our appetizers, while two more members of the waitstaff assisted.

  *

  Maggie and I had delivered our apps to the judges without incident, though I still felt pretty worked up inside over the thing with Lowell. However, I was actually glad it happened. It showed Raina that I was innocent. I hoped, deep down, she had already known that. But I was thankful for this irrefutable evidence. They had something against us and now Raina and I could band together to fight them. We had to start with winning Unruly Restaurant.

  It wasn’t much longer after delivering the apps that it was time for the main courses. Maggie and I again hoisted up the dishes, waitstaff in tow, and scurried out into the dining room to face the judges a second time. They had been in good spirits for the app round, I was hoping we didn’t disappoint them at all with those first dishes.

  The dining room was boisterous and exciting. We had a full house of diners, a collection of people dressed nice and happy for the free meal they were receiving. When you watch Hot Chef on TV and you see Unruly Restaurant, you’ve got to know that these people aren’t coming out to the television shoot and paying for their meal. They were usually super fans of the show that had applied to take part in the episode.

  “Hello again, chefs,” said Pema as Maggie and I approached. Together we served the judges, ever-careful not to spill a plate or disrupt the presentation. “We very much enjoyed the first course,” she said.

  “That’s great!” beamed Maggie.

  Tim, Pema, Gretel, and guest chef Tony Barnett, celebrity chef with a number of TV shows himself, sat in judgement of us. They looked at the two of us expectantly, smiling for the cameras, eager to hear what we had made for them.

  “These look great,” said Tim, looking down at his plates. “Why don’t you tell us what you made?”

  “Tonight we have for you,” I started, taking a breath, still feeling riled up. “Braised bone-in lamb chops made with red wine, rosemary, and a little bit of fennel. And our other entree is duck confit with parsley and shallots and potatoes fried with duck fat and onions.”

  “Very barbaric,” said Tony, looking down to his plate. Tony’s white hair was perfectly coiffed. “Your dishes have all been protein-heavy. I like it!”

  The judges began to dig in as Maggie and I stood there in waiting. Even though we still had the dessert course to go, that was mostly an afterthought. It was the mains that really made you or broke you in this competition. I felt Maggie slide her hand around my back and we leaned into each other. It was nerve-wracking.

  “So who did what?” asked Gretel, cutting into her duck and taking a small bite.

  “Well,” I started, trying to remember everything I was supposed to say. We had talked about how we would present our work and the girls wanted me to speak for them all. “Tina handled apps, though it was her and Maggie that mostly put together the tartare and the mussels. These two mains were both my idea, prepped by me, Raina, and Tina, cooked mostly by Raina, while I expedited in the kitchen. Dessert course, forthcoming, is Maggie.”

  “You really took on a lot, Emily,” mused Pema.

  “I’m used to it,” I said. “This kind of food is my specialty.”

  “It’s very good,” said Tim. That was about all the judges would give us to go on. I could tell they were enjoying the meals but I knew I would have to wait until the Chop Block to hear what they really thought.

  “That’ll be all, ladies,” said Pema. “Thank you.”

  I really just wanted to collapse. It felt like the challenge was over, having served the judges our entrees, but we still had dessert to go and we still had diners waiting. The life of a chef. It never seems to end until that last diner leaves for the night and then you’ve got to do it all over again tomorrow. The hamster wheel is real.

  With our arms around one another, Maggie and I turned from the judges and made our way back to the kitchen to report what had happened to the girls. I was feeling pretty good about what we’d presented. But it wouldn’t be much longer until we knew for sure.

 
*

  After dinner service was complete, production took Raina away from us as she would not be allowed to go to the Chop Block with us. Same for Mike on the guys’ team. I was saddened to see her go. We hadn’t even really had the chance to talk about what happened, to rebuild what we had been working on before she was eliminated, and now we were split apart again. It was a whirlwind of emotions. But even though Raina was again taken from me, I knew that I had a second chance waiting in the wings. It was invigorating and while I was completely exhausted from the night’s challenge, I felt good knowing that I was back in Raina’s good graces.

  The 6 of us headed back in a van to the Hot Chef studio and were brought out to the Chop Block together, staring down Tim, Pema, Gretel, and Tony Barnett, each of them giving us an icy and serious stare as the cameras rolled. They always tried to psych you out, even if everybody did good. It gave them a lot of material to work with in editing, I guess. Part of the drama and all that. But by this time in the competition, the whole reality TV was really wearing thin on me. I’m sure you can imagine.

  We lined up, guys on one side, us girls on the other, waiting with bated breath for our judgment. Bright lights shone down from the rafters. I could feel the sweat on my brow. I just wanted to crawl into my bed and pass out. I don’t think I’d ever worked so hard in a kitchen in my life.

  “Congratulations, chefs,” said Pema, beginning the Chop Block. “You’ve finished Unruly Restaurant and you’re all still alive!”

  We all lightly applauded and let out some half-hearted “woos!” You could tell we were tired, however, every one of us feeling beaten down and ready to get this all over with.

  “You’re all still alive now,” said Tim evenly. “But one of you will be going home tonight.”

  “You both put up very good menus,” said Pema. “And had nice restaurant concepts. But there can only be one winner of Unruly Restaurant.”