An Acquired Taste

by Kelly Cain

  Wyatt and the Everheart brothers are nowhere to be seen, so I sit at our table and go over my own notes. I pull out a folded paper I’ve been holding onto awhile and spread it out on the table, wondering how much I should use of it in our final plans. I’ve already submitted recipes for the first couple of days and some are from here, but those are mostly just basic bistro food. I only hesitate because Knox has seen it. I rub my fingers across the encouraging words he left for me.

  “Looks like I made an impression.”

  I can’t ever catch a break. Resigned, I look up into Knox’s sparkling baby blues. He’s shaved since arriving or rather someone shaved him plus cut his hair. I don’t show my disappointment. “You caught me.”

  “Did I? What did I catch you doing?”

  Wow, so he wants me to say it out loud. I know I said I wanted to wait until after the competition, but a little harmless flirting won’t hurt. I try to present a coy smile. “I think you know exactly what I was doing? And what I was thinking.” I try waggling my eyebrows but from Knox’s confused look, I’m not certain I was successful.

  “Are you flirting with me? Or trying to?”

  “Shut up,” I hiss, looking around. I stand and grab his hand, scanning around for some privacy. I drag him along toward the unisex bathroom. We pass Mike on the way and Knox’s hand stiffens in mine.

  Mike only waves, a knowing smile plastered on his face.

  When we get to the room, I open the door and peer in, ensuring it’s not occupied. I pull on Knox’s hand, and he spits out, “Are you sure? You don’t want to piss off your boyfriend.”

  To get some leverage because he has a good half a foot and at least forty pounds on me, I step on the inseam of his foot and push him through the door, dragging him to the biggest stall at the end.

  “I see you’re resorting to out-and-out violence now. You’ve stooped quite low, Amber.”

  “Mike isn’t my boyfriend. I already told you that.”

  “But last night, you–”

  “For fuck’s sake, Knox. I was eating my first meal in nearly two days when he came into the restaurant looking for his own dinner. I didn’t want him to join me, but I didn’t want to be rude either.”

  Knox stares at me a long moment, then takes a couple of steps toward me. “But he called you in Austin. He has your phone number.”

  “A lot of people have my phone number, but that doesn’t mean they’re my boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have your number.”

  The air has shifted now. Thickened and swelled. The bathroom door opens and someone comes in and enters one of the stalls. I unnecessarily place a finger over Knox’s lips and look at our feet, hoping the person doesn’t peer under our stall.

  The person runs water in the sink, then the door opens and closes again.

  When I glance back up at Knox, his eyes have changed, darkened.

  “You’ve never asked for my number.” There are mere inches between us but I can’t back up. The space is small.

  “Tell me what happened with Mike.”

  Damn, he’s a broken record with this Mike thing. What does it matter? “Nothing. We went out a couple of times, talked on the phone a couple of times. He’s a friend.”

  “Did you kiss him?”

  “Erm, sort of?”

  “Are you asking me, Amber? Fuck, you sound like Weston. Don’t you know if you kissed him or not?”

  “Once.”

  “So not your boyfriend, but more than a friend.”

  “I’ve kissed you as many times as I’ve kissed Mike. Are you more than a friend, Knox?”

  His hand stretches toward me, but he pulls it back before making contact, putting it into the pocket of his pants. His eyes are dark and intense, leveled directly at me. “We’re not even friends. Remember?”

  Ouch. Fucking Knox. Why do I even put myself out there with him? He’ll never think of me like that. I’m such a fool.

  Maybe he senses my quick trip to paranoia-land because he catches my hand. “We’re not friends because you said we couldn’t be.”

  “Do you want to be friends?”

  He moves his hand up my arm and rests it behind my neck. He bends ever so slightly bringing his face closer to mine, but still far enough away that there’s no accidental touching. “Is that the only possibility?”

  I raise on my toes, closing the distance between us. I whisper against his lips, “Until the competition’s over.” This close, the sounds of our breathing intermix, every one of his exhales brushes my lips, his fruity breath fills my nose. Our expanding chests touch, then retreat.

  “And then what?” His lips touch mine as he speaks.

  “And then we can explore the electricity that flows between us.”

  Someone opening the bathroom door splits us apart in a hurry. Hannah knocks on the stall. “Everyone’s looking for you two.”

  My face heats to a ridiculous temperature, but Knox simply grabs my hand and leads me out.

  Under the pretense of needing to speak to Hannah, I drop his hand. “I’ll be right there. I need to talk to Hannah really quick about strategy.”

  He nods and goes back to the set.

  I fall against the wall, breathing heavily.

  Hannah watches me, then shakes her head and leaves the bathroom.

  All I can think is how I’m going to possibly make it through this week without tearing that pristine jacket off Knox Everheart. Hopefully I don’t do it while the cameras are rolling.

  San Francisco Sourdough Bread

  2 cups warm water

  6 – 8 cups flour

  1 cup sourdough starter, unproofed

  2 tsp salt

  2 tsp sugar

  1/2 cup water

  1/2 tsp cornstarch

  Grease a baking sheet, set aside. In a large bowl, combine the water, starter and 4 cups of flour. Mix well and cover in a warm place 8-12 hours. Stir in salt and sugar. Add flour 1/2 cup at a time until a stiff dough forms. Knead until smooth. Cover and let rise 2 to 2-1/2 hours. Punch down and divide in half. Knead each half until smooth and form into rounds. Place on baking sheet. Cover and let rise till double, about 1 to 2 hours. Meanwhile, mix water and cornstarch in a small saucepan and boil. Remove from heat and let cool. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Carefully place a small pan of hot water on the bottom rack of the oven. Cut two cross slashes on top of each loaf. Bake 10 minutes. Baste each loaf well with the cornstarch mixture. Bake another 20-25 minutes until golden. Allow 2 hours to cool and fully develop sourdough flavor.

  Yield: 2 loaves

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Gains.

  The first two days of competition we’ll be making signature dishes and drinks that we’d serve in our new restaurant. We had to plan ahead and give the producers a list of ingredients to have on hand since from now on, all the challenges will be on our terms. Mama isn’t here so that means on my terms.

  Someday I want to own a French bistro, something I tried (and failed) to turn Smothered in Love into. Lillie was not having it. In my spare time, I’ve been experimenting and perfecting dishes I’d want to serve. For our first competition, we have all day to make an appetizer, soup, salad, main course, dessert, and wine pairings. That last bit was already handled by Wyatt, something he excels at. Tomorrow will be more of the same, but with five main course offerings and a signature drink. Wyatt promises he has it covered, and I’m not worried, but it did take him quite a bit of time to perfect one for Mama’s restaurant.

  Today, I keep it more traditional in every category. Tomorrow, I’ll mix it up a bit for variety. And it’s all on me because I basically have two sous chefs now with Mama gone. But I’m okay with that. After the last competition, I finally realized that I am worthy. I may not kick Knox’s butt because Lord knows he’s special, but I may because I’m special too. And I can’t worry about Knox anymore. I have to do my thing the best I can. Even with this newfound confidence, I’m happy I don’t need to worry about making pasta.

  Hann
ah is sharing a look with Wyatt. I can only imagine what that’s about. I frown at them both in turn. They can gossip about me when we’re done. Right now, we all need to concentrate on the task at hand. We know what we need to do since we hashed that out on the plane. We just need to execute. And concentrate. Did I say that already? Well, it bears remembering because nobody should be thinking about anything other than our menu today. Definitely not Knox or what any of the Everhearts are doing.

  The warning light blinks so we’re about to get started. I peep around for the judges again.

  Wyatt asks, “Who are you looking for?” He narrows his eyes in massive judgment.

  “The judges. Get a life.”

  He sits back in his chair and twists his lips to the side. “Uh huh. Maybe if you weren’t playing seven minutes in heaven with Knox, you’d know the judges aren’t coming until the end of the day.”

  “Oh.” That’s all I got. I don’t even want to touch that Knox comment. Granted if I actually got seven minutes in heaven with Knox, we wouldn’t have been talking about Mike. Far from it.

  The final lights blink and we have a hot set. I glance at Hannah and she has a smile plastered on her face but there are droplets of sweat breaking out on her forehead. She did great Sunday and I’m sure she’ll do fine this week, but it’s different being filmed in your element than here on their turf. I grin to myself because I feel like an old pro at this point. Imagine that.

  The presenters lay out the format for the final round, then they introduce Knox and family. They introduce the Everheart restaurant in Austin so I imagine that’s where they’ll cut in the B-roll footage. They repeat the sequence for us. I’m sure they’ll also be cutting in commentary on why we’re here instead of the Ortiz family and why Hannah has subbed in for Mama. When this airs, the home audience should be thoroughly confused I’d guess.

  The presenters call us into our respective kitchens which are so far apart now, I can’t see Knox behind a barrier. It’s for the best really.

  Aaron Jackson and Lee Varchick come to our kitchen first.

  Aaron says, “Hello, Townsend family.”

  The three of us grin and wave at the camera. Super professional.

  He continues, “From what I understand, if you were to win, you’d open a French bistro. Is that right?”

  We all sort of nod, then thankfully Hannah smoothly lies for us. “Yes, Aaron. Rowan has always dreamed of opening a bistro so that will be our focus this week.” Man, looks like Hannah’s in her element.

  That’s been my dream, true enough, but if we win, we’ll be moving Smothered in Love to a new, bigger location. I made the decision to go with my dream for the competition, because I think the food will be more compelling.

  Lee looks directly at me. “Chef, what do you have planned today?”

  This is more in my wheelhouse so I’m effortless with my reply. “Hi, Lee. We’re going to start with a buckwheat blini with smoked salmon and caviar, then onion soup and a goat cheese and mesclun salad, and for the main course…coq au vin, braised Swiss chard, and roasted potatoes. Dessert will be a strawberry-rhubarb gallette. My brother will handle the spirits.”

  While Wyatt explains his wine pairings, my mind wanders back to when Knox made something French for me—the croque monsieur. It was delicious and so sweet of him. Totally out of character. Or was it? I glance over at his kitchen but naturally I can’t see him.

  Aaron pulls me back. “Thank you, Townsends. We look forward to your offering this evening. It sounds delicious.”

  We all paste on big smiles as Lee and Aaron walk away.

  Lee speaks to the camera while walking. “And now we’ll chat with the Everheart family.”

  Even though we can’t see the brothers, we can hear them when they speak to the presenters. Knox is in charge and answers the same questions. They’re doing his dream of a restaurant, specializing in pasta and salads. He names stuffed zucchini blossom as the appetizer and my mind immediately goes back to our first year in school. I’d never heard of such a thing but during class, he announced that he’d be making it. I watched him from my own station where I was mastering mozzarella sticks. These were supposed to be beginning appetizers, but leave it to Knox to always take it to another level.

  From our kitchen, the audience stretches out before us, including Knox’s dad. They’re still looking at the Everheart kitchen because they can see both families from their vantage point. Flynn’s intense stare at Knox while he’s being interviewed unnerves me. He’s actually scowling. Again, I wonder why he’s here.

  The presenters walk back to the middle right in front of the audience but facing us, and announce that we may begin.

  I start with the coq au vin because it takes over an hour to put together then still needs to cook. Hannah will work on the dessert because again, there’s a long lead time on putting it together. Wyatt will work on the onion soup because although there isn’t much to the preparation, except for the loads of onions to slice, it does take quite a while to cook. Plus, the bread needs to have time to rise and bake, although Hannah’s going to make it for him before she starts the gallette.

  My knives are sharpened and ready, so I cut up the chicken first to let the pieces marinate in the pinot noir and brandy while I prepare the other ingredients. The heady alcohol scent wakes me right up if I’d even thought about dragging. Since Wyatt is otherwise occupied, I’ll have to cut up my own onions, garlic, mushrooms, and carrots plus peel the pearl onions. Bugger. I truly have become spoiled.

  When I’m done slicing and dicing, I check on Wyatt, then Hannah. Hannah’s a great cook and can follow directions extremely well. I’m not worried about her at all but want to check in. “How’s it going?”

  She’s hulling the strawberries in the sink. “Great. I’ve already made Wyatt’s country bread for the onion soup plus the dough for my dessert is resting in the refrigerator.”

  I check the time. “Excellent work. We’re right on schedule.”

  I return to my project and start searing the chicken and crisping up some bacon. The salty smell of the bacon makes my mouth water. I don’t dare sneak a piece though.

  While the chicken stew simmers, I gather the ingredients for the appetizer and salad. Hmmm, not the caviar I asked for. Shame.

  We don’t break for lunch, but the crew brings us hearty sandwiches to keep our strength up. That means I don’t get to see what the Everhearts are up to. Fragrant Italian smells of seafood and pasta have found their way over to our area though. I should have been paying more attention earlier because I wonder what Weston will make for dessert.

  When the day ends, we’ve plated everything for both judges. There’s a table near our kitchen where the food and wine has been placed. I can only assume there’s a similar one next to the Everheart kitchen because I can’t see it.

  Chef Buccola smells the main dish. “A very hearty choice and I see you’ve changed it up a bit with the bacon on top.” He takes a taste and his eyebrows raise imperceptibly.

  “Yes, Chef.” I know it’s not exactly traditional, but soggy bacon or salt pork isn’t my idea of a good time. I feel fine with making the dish mine. Why have a restaurant if I don’t?

  Dean Ellerson spoons some of the soup into her mouth. I’ve adjusted the recipe a bit there too, so if there are any complaints, they’ll fall on my shoulders. Not my brother’s. She only nods, but there’s a small smile playing with the corners of her mouth.

  Next, they go over to the Everheart’s kitchen and our family goes to our table to wait on our scores. This is the first time today I’ve been out of the kitchen other than some quick bathroom breaks. When I sit down, my feet sting from the relief.

  Hannah is perky and rested-looking even though we’ve spent nearly eight hours on our feet. She’s smiling and still marveling at her surroundings. Maybe she’ll change her career choice and go into television or film. There’s plenty of opportunity in Austin if she’s thinking about it. I make a mental note to talk with her about
it later.

  Wyatt is rubbing his insoles but thankfully hasn’t actually pulled his sneakers off.

  I look out at the audience. Flynn is there, alertly watching whatever is going on with his sons and the judges. His back is stiff and he’s frowning. I’m beginning to think that’s his default now. He was never the friendliest sort, more gregarious and outrageously superior, but now it’s almost like he has a burr up his butt about something.

  When the presenters announce our scores, all I can do is smile.

  *

  The soft knock on the door isn’t unexpected, but makes me jump nonetheless. The only preparation I’ve made for this visit is to shower instead of soaking in the tub, but otherwise I changed into yoga pants and a worn Lenny Kravitz T-shirt I got at his concert when I went with Daddy in high school. Hooboy, I got my first contact high at that concert. I don’t mind talking with Knox, but I also don’t want to encourage anything more…for now. Hence the grubby clothes.

  I close my laptop and cross the room from the desk to the door. My mother would have a fit if she knew how careless I’m being, but I don’t bother checking the peephole because after he asked if he could come over tonight, it could only be one person.

  When I open the door, my breath catches in my throat. Knox is casually leaning against the frame, hands in his pants pocket. He hasn’t made any more effort than I have, but the fit of his plain white sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up, and dark running pants are so perfect and sexy, I involuntarily suck in my bottom lip.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I stand there and stare, running my eyes over his stubbled jaw, his hard chest, and muscular and veiny Fore. Arms. Then back to the heat in his eyes. It’s taken me ten years and I haven’t seen the color often, but I think I’ve finally figured out what topaz means.