basric

She stared in terror at the basket before her. Nervously she adjusted her apron. She knew what was coming. Though she was an executive chef in a New York restaurant she remembered the days of her French and Italian schooling. Then two years training as a pastry chef. Each of her 'bastard' instructors loved to surprise them with IT.

She'd only agreed to join this contest since it was a chance to work with THE MAN. To watch the MAN in action and learn from him. The prize of executive chef at a new Las Vegas Restaurant had no appeal for her. And the way her teammates shared their hatred for her, she figured she'd go soon. Didn't matter she kept to herself and refused to speak ill of any of them she'd won too many challenges.

"CHEF! YOU HAVE A PROBLEM?."

"No Chef."

"THEN LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU." She heard the sniggers of her teammates.

"INSIDE OUR BASKET IS AN AMERICAN TRADITIONAL FOOD."

Here it comes

"YOU ARE TO DECONSTRUCT AND CREATE SOMETHING MODERN AND AMAZING FOR THE PALATE. YOU HAVE NINETY MINUTES, STARTING ...NOW."

Chefs began rushing about the kitchen. She stood staring doubtfully at the Cheeseburger and potato salad. First she had to get past this terror--DECONSTRUCTION.

"CHEF, I THINK PERHAPS YOU NEED TO SNAP OUT OF IT AND GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR."

She jumped and mumbled 'yes chef' gathering her dishes and moving away from his razor sharp tongue. Closing her eyes she pictured what ingredients made the bun, the meat the lettuce, cheese, tomato and pickle then potato salad--potato mayo break down to oil, egg, and salt. The creative side of her brain took over.

Potatoes boiling, a roue started, she whisked keeping an eye on her reduction.

"THIRTY MINUTES, CHEFS."

She removed her potatoes. Peeled, scooped the center and scored their sides. She turned to whisk. To her roue she added goat's cheese and drizzled olive oil. She made the salad with lettuce and tomato, added a little goat's cheese and crumbles of ground sirloin.

She finished plating seconds before HE called time.

He called her and a guy from the other team first. She sighed when she saw it would be his wife and daughters judging. Just great Even Welsh/American children loved their hamburgers.

She carefully explained her deconstruction. The use of the roue in the potato the reduction drizzled on the side. The salad reconstruction. Nothing of the original was remaining but every ingredient had been used.

She watched the girls taste with trepidation but she had not taken into consideration that with such a famous chef for a father their pallets were already being refined. When the girls began squabbling over who got to finish it Dad raised a eyebrow and they sat back politely. His wife pulled the half-eaten food toward herself and close her eyes in ecstasy as the flavors burst on her tongue. She pushed it toward him and he frowned, she insisted and he FINISHED IT. All but licking the plate.

"Madame, that was well done."

She all but danced to her place in line. Unfortunately none of her other teammates took their challenge, so they would be left to scrub and prep.

As they were headed down to change CHEF took her arm. "Madame, your dish was far superior to any dish presented today. My wife and daughters have insisted you be invited to dine with us. Please go change. Ten minutes.

She floated on a cloud until she encountered her roommates. Now they REALLY hated her and for a moment thought one was actually going to get physical with her.

Much later sitting on a terrace with the THE MAN, His wife and children had excused themselves for the ladies room.

Alone with another man she might have caught a glimmer of desire in his eyes, but this man truly loved his wife and children. Clear blue eyes searched her face the puzzlement clear. "Tell me, why the panic at the challenge start."

She sighed, "All through chef schools its just that word."

"Deconstruction? Yet you got past it. Won the challenge. You have a talent for deconstruction."

She stared at him, saved from answering by the return of his family and the bustling to leave and make the flight back to L.A. She ruminated on his words during the flight. Perhaps she'd been a bit deconstructed this day as well.