Kitchen Witch Wars and the Chef Who Nailed It

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Kitchen Witch Wars and the Chef Who Nailed It Page 3

by Heather Pherris


  “Excuse me?” she whispered.

  “I said yes, I’m Wade, and we really need to get started so if you let me know how I can help...”

  His words trailed off as a shadow fell across the two of them. It belonged to Daegal.

  “Wade, off you scoot, there’s a good boy. I’m sure there’s some coffee you need to make or a floor you need to sweep.”

  With that, Wade disappeared, so quick as to not even look back. If Christelle had listened hard enough she would have heard him let out a soft sigh of relief at to the opportunity for escape.

  “That was rude,” said Christelle.

  “Rude! Rude!” said Sol who never missed an opportunity to criticize Daegal if he could help it.

  Daegal smirked.

  “Rude? Maybe. But that’s what interns expect. They’re learning, they need to be grateful to even have a job, don’t they?”

  Christelle secretly didn’t think that interns had jobs at all; they had orders that had to be carried out. And since most of them didn’t even get paid... well, the less said about that, the better. So instead, Christelle skirted over what Daegal had said and pointed to her forehead.

  “I’m melting,” she said.

  “Isn’t that what witches do?” asked Daegal, trying in vain to lighten the mood with an off-color joke. He was referring to The Wizard of Oz, and the Wicked Witch of the West who melted away at the end.

  Christelle laughed, though it was a slow and dry laugh. She didn’t want to admit it, but the line had tickled her a little. She held her hand up to her mouth and felt the color drain away from her.

  “I don’t feel so good!” she managed to get out before running away.

  Christelle made it to the bathroom just in time.

  She managed to position her head unceremoniously over a toilet bowl as she began to heave. The morning’s Knuckle Down Muffins didn’t seem as wise a choice as they came back up. After what seemed a lifetime, Christelle gathered her bearings, stood up and stumbled over to the mirror. She looked about as awful as she felt. Hair a mess, makeup running and ruined, and of course she needed to brush her teeth. Sol, who had perched in a panic at the top of the bathroom stall when the sickness began, now resumed his place on Christelle’s shoulder.

  “Err, Christelle?”

  It was Daegal, who had followed her off set. Behind him was Mrs. Mogridge and behind her was pretty much everyone else. They had all seen Christelle run off and wanted to check she was all right. Or find out what the gossip was.

  Christelle closed her eyes and wished them all away, but she knew magic didn’t quite work like that. At least not her brand of magic. When she opened her eyes again, unsurprisingly everyone was still standing right there in the doorway. Mrs. Mogridge bustled forward, shooing everyone out of the way.

  “Send a makeup artist to Miss Seabright’s dressing room, pronto,” she ordered.

  Daegal, who had no idea what else to do, rushed off to do just that.

  “As for everyone else, get back to what you’re meant to be doing. We’ll be just five minutes, so you’d better be ready for us.”

  With that, the crowd dispersed. It was as though Mrs. Mogridge had given them a challenge that they needed to desperately win. In a moment, what had been a completely jammed hallway was barren.

  “Right, let’s get you sorted out,” said Mrs. Mogridge. “You can make yourself an herbal tea, better use chamomile and ginger, to settle your stomach.”

  Mrs. Mogridge paused and brushed a lank strand of Christelle’s hair out of her face. “What happened, love? Nerves? Are you sick?”

  Christelle shook her head. It wasn’t nerves, although she had been a little tense. No, she was happy enough to do what she needed to do, and last time she had been much more nervous and hadn’t had to rush off and puke. And she wasn’t sick. At least, she didn’t think so. She had been feeling fine up until that moment, laughing and sharing a joke with Daegal.

  “I don’t know,” she said finally. “Maybe something I ate?”

  “Maybe,” said Mrs. Mogridge, although she didn’t look convinced. “Come on, not much time. Let’s get you cleaned up. Where’s that makeup girl gotten to?”

  Chapter 6

  Back in the dressing room, with her makeup wiped off and reapplied in record time, a quick cleanup, and after a cup of warm ginger tea, Christelle felt much more like herself again. Mrs. Mogridge tucked Christelle’s hair into place and sent her on her way. Mrs. Mogridge remained in the dressing room. She had some thinking to do, and she needed some peace and quiet in which to do it.

  Christelle stepped out onto the set and everyone stared at her. Contestants, judges, crew... all eyes were on her.

  “I’m ready,” she announced.

  “Aaaand.... Action!”

  “Blessed be and welcome to The Kitchen Witch Wars! My name is Christelle Seabright, and I’ll be your host through this most wicked of cooking competitions. Joining me are three distinguished judges who will all put our contestants to the test as they battle it out to be crowned Kitchen Witch.

  “We began with eight chefs participating in four specially designed episodes, each with a different theme that will test their skills in the kitchen. Two contestants left us last episode, but we now we have seven – a new witch has joined our midst.

  “And just to let you know, no magic is allowed! This is all about the ingredients and the methods, nothing more.

  “At the end of each episode, one or two chefs will be eliminated – at the judge’s discretion– and one will win this fantastical, sparkling, beautiful witch’s hat.”

  Christelle once more slipped the sparkling hat on her head and this time it turned a bright green color.

  “This will happen each week until we reach the final episode, where the prize of $100,000 and the gold-plated Kitchen Witch trophy - which currently hangs over our heads, blessing this mess - will be awarded.

  “Our chefs will be creating delicious, exciting, unforgettable food all while facing our hilarious, daunting, but always fun challenges. Our judges will critique their creations and vote out the losers until we have our champion. So, who’s going to win The Kitchen Witch Wars? We’ll soon find out! Love and light!”

  “Love and light! Love and light!” Sol repeated.

  “Aaaaand... cut!”

  “Great job, as per usual, Christelle,” came Daegal’s voice from the darkness. He seemed to be ever-present, even when not in the room.

  “Now, is everyone ready for the reveal of the next challenge? Make sure you’re in the right mindset, be positive, because once we start there’s no stopping – it’s got to be done in real time. And contestants, don’t forget; Christelle will be coming to chat with you. She’ll want to hear more about your dreams and aspirations. She won’t go away, and you can’t duck out of being interviewed, okay? So just grin and bear it, and be as nice as you can; the audience will like you a lot better for it.”

  There was a general murmur as the contestants agreed. Some were happier about the idea than others, but they all knew what to expect. They had all been through it before, apart from the hearth witch Alice. It hadn’t been too bad. Distracting, yes, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Certain personalities even enjoyed it; there were some who liked nothing better than to talk about themselves.

  Wade appeared, waving his hands frantically. Someone had given him a loud speaker, but he had forgotten he was holding it. He shouted to get everyone’s attention, but nobody seemed to notice. Christelle only saw Wade’s waving from the corner of her eye. When she realized what was happening, she motioned to the tool in his hand. Wade looked confused. Christelle imagined, and not for the first time, that he wasn’t the brightest bulb of the bunch. She shook her head and mimed bringing the loud hailer up to her mouth to speak.

  Finally, a light of comprehension flashed across Wade’s face and he did just that, his amplified shouts nearly deafening.

  “Joachim Salvatore? Can Joachim Salvatore come to the front of the kit
chen please?”

  Joachim had a wry smile on his face as he stood up. Although the judges didn’t seem surprised by the order, the contestants and Christelle had no idea what was happening. Christelle preferred to be kept in the dark; her responses to what she saw and heard were much more honest that way, and that made for better television. She wanted to be as authentic as possible. Right now, however, she was intrigued.

  Christelle knew there was still a camera on her. There always was. She was fascinated by the filming process, but it was the editing that really caught her attention. Taking little bits from here, there, and everywhere, some clever soul would whip together a TV show of which they could all be proud. At least, that was the idea. With a murder hanging over this show, things had become a lot more complicated. But at this point, it couldn’t be helped. Christelle just had to keep moving forward, as did everyone else.

  Christelle was aware of the camera constantly filming her, but she was able to ignore it. She forgot it was there most of the time. When it did cross her mind, she found herself wondering which of her reactions they would keep, and which were to be cut - deemed uninteresting. At that very moment her face looked puzzled. Probably, she thought in a good way. She wondered, where was Joachim going and why?

  What Christelle hadn’t realized, what many hadn’t realized in fact, was that there was an extra bench at the front of the contestants’ kitchen. It sat empty, unoccupied, but it was just where Joachim was heading.

  “Okay, and places please,” a voice instructed from behind the camera lens.

  Joachim stood at the extra bench, just behind the table, looking dashing and handsome. His clothes were impeccable, and his hair was perfectly coiffed. There was something decidedly attractive about the vampire, but Christelle still felt there was something about him which couldn’t be fully trusted. His seven ex-wives would likely attest to that fact. Even when his piercing blue eyes locked with a target, gazing admiringly, Joachim’s sights continued to rove. It may not have been intentional, but Joachim had a penchant for leaving just as quickly as he had for loving.

  At one point, Joachim and Martine were married, that had ended badly. At least, that was what Christelle had been told. But Christelle was still happy to look at Joachim. He moved like a dance, seemingly gliding and swaying with each step. At one point, Christelle glanced around and saw that everyone was just as enraptured. Except for Martine of course, for whom the spell of Joachim had been broken some time ago, and Henry, who wouldn’t allow himself to be caught off guard, especially since Alice’s arrival.

  “Christelle!”

  Her name hissed through the air, such that Christelle couldn’t tell if it was Daegal or Wade who had spoken. Their voices sounded very similar when whispered. She looked around but saw no one. There was much she couldn’t make out now though, since the filming lights shone so brightly upon the competition set, that from her vantage, Christelle could not make out the forms of those beyond the camera. The lights were dazzling, but concealing. Unless whomever spoke was standing on her side of the camera, directly under those lights, Christelle would not be able to see them.

  “Christelle! Go! You’re up, you’ve got a script for this!”

  Christelle shivered back into life. A script - the autocue on the camera. Of course! Sprinting across Studio B, she skidded to a stop just beside Joachim, bumping into the bench and almost tripping over her own feet. Sol, panicked, flew up into the air yelling something nonsensical as he always did when he was startled. Christelle righted herself and beamed a smile in the direction of the camera, ignoring the surprised looks from all around.

  “Sorry about that, folks,” she said, going off script to explain what had happened. “My broom clearly needs a service!”

  A light and muffled laughter bounced around the room in response. Christelle wondered whether the editing department would throw in some extra laughs or whether they would cut it out altogether. Only time would tell.

  “And here we are, onto round two of The Kitchen Witch Wars. This week, it’s less about what you can concoct and more about how you follow a recipe. And you’re in luck. In addition to having the method and ingredients handed to you - without the right measurements of course, we don’t want to make it too easy - , you’ll also get to watch the creator of the recipe himself, Mr., Joachim Salvatore, prepare it for you. There’s no excuse to get this one wrong – you only must copy what you see! Love and light for this challenge!”

  “Yeah, really easy,” Dermott piped in, rolling his eyes. “we’re going to need plenty of love and light!”

  Dermott looked less than impressed with the task ahead.

  Joachim held up a hand.

  “It’s true that I’m a world class chef, trained by some of those most highly regarded. It’s true that I’ve won awards. It’s true than I’m a multimillionaire thanks to my exceptional cooking... but there’s no need for our contestants to panic. I’ll keep this nice and simple. And remember, if you mess this up, you’ll only be making my job as a judge that much easier... and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

  Strangely enough, Joachim’s words did little to squash the rising sense of anxiety in the room. Even Mona had tears in her eyes. Only Alice looked confident.

  “All right, old man,” Alice replied with a wink. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

  His jawline crisp and jutting, hair smooth and luxurious, Joachim nodded and grinned. He smiled to speak once more, and his sharp teeth caught the glimmer of the studio lights.

  “I like your attitude. Let’s go!”

  With a sweep of his arm, a variety of ingredients and pieces of kitchen equipment appeared out of nowhere, arranging themselves neatly on the kitchen surface in front of him. In the past Christelle would have been impressed by this show. Sights like this were becoming commonplace in her new paranormal life, and she merely tut-tutted at the magical display.

  “Did a witch teach you that trick, Joachim?” she asked.

  Joachim looked directly into the camera, flirting with whomever was watching.

  “Oh, I’ve learned a lot from witches,” he said.

  He winked and carried on right into his cooking lesson as though the off-the-cuff exchange had been perfectly placed and scripted.

  Chapter 7

  “And there you have it, a simple way to create the most beautiful looking red velvet cake in the shape of, well, me!”

  The whole studio smelled amazing. Christelle’s stomach gurgled loudly, but neither she nor anybody else for that matter, seemed to care. The cake that Joachim produced was astounding. He had called it simple, but nothing was farther from the truth. The contestants knew they were going to have a hard time reproducing what he had done. A culinary master, the vampire had worked quickly and effortlessly, with little explanation as to what he was doing. That, though, was the point. Although The Kitchen Witch Wars may have looked like a cozy, comfy piece of entertainment, the competition itself was tough. Only the very best would survive.

  Christelle stepped forward.

  “It looks wonderful, Joachim, well done. Let’s give our chef a round of applause!”

  Everyone clapped, though some more enthusiastically than others. It was obvious how professional and impressive Joachim was, and they could all see that knew he deserved praise. In their own way, each contestant was worried at the thought of trying to recreate such a perfectly formed cake. Was it even possible? The chef had mixed so many ingredients together so quickly. Henry thought that it would take a photographic memory to get it right. Dermott wondered if he could mix and measure without magic in even half the time - even with the instructions they had been given.

  Still, it was all part of the process.

  Whether or not they liked the methodology, this was the challenge at hand.

  This wasn’t just any red velvet cake; this was Joachim’s own recipe, and it was this sort of thing that had made him famous. As for the design... it looked exactly like him.

  “Now, I think af
ter that impressive demonstration we should all taste the cake, don’t you,” asked Christelle.

  Joachim smirked and waved his hand over the bench. Enough forks appeared for everyone.

  “Ah, more witchcraft, I see,” said Christelle. “Next time just ask me, I’m sure I can help out.”

  She wasn’t sure about that even as the words left her lips, but Christelle felt that she had to say something. Even though she had only been a witch for a matter of weeks, or at least that’s how long she had been aware of the fact, she felt a witchy pride.

  Everyone happily tucked into the food, and even Christelle managed to take a small bite before it was all gone.

  “Well, that’s definitely a disappearing trick I know how to make happen!” said Christelle, laughing. “Now, back to the matter at hand. You’ve all seen how it was done, although the master isn’t going to tell you all his tricks and secrets of course. And you’ve all tasted the stunning cake. Next, you must cook it. So, one, two, three... flee! Cook! Go!”

  And off the contestants went. They knew they only had a limited time, although they had longer than it had taken Joachim to create his masterpiece. Plus, of course, they all knew their role in Christelle’s hosting job. She was going to come and chat with each of them, which would make the whole event take much longer than it would appear to television audiences.

  As the chefs scurried off to cook, Christelle congratulated Joachim on what he had done.

  “That was so delicious,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’ll ever give away your secrets, will you?”

  Joachim grinned.

  “Depends who’s asking,” he said mysteriously, giving Christelle the distinct impression that if she inquired, he still wouldn’t give an answer.

  Christelle’s brow furrowed and she sighed.

  “Fine, stay secretive.”

  “Oh, I will, don’t you worry about that,” said Joachim.

  Christelle looked at him and this time there was no hint of mischief, no joking, no flirting. He was deadly serious. Christelle was intensely curious, but now was not the time to ask any more questions. She now needs to go and chat with the contestants, to find out more about what they were doing and how they felt. While the contestants cooked, Christelle was charged with whipping up soundbites that the editorial crew could weave into their episode.

 

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