August 20, 2010 @ 8:55 am | Filed under: Books,The Writing Life
MELROSE MIRACLE
by Staci Wilder
Chapter Ten
Ella’s exhilaration barely lasted through lunch.
As she and the other contestants filed back into Sound Stage C after a rather loud and festive lunch at a nearby bistro, it was clear something was up. The two rows of metal desks had disappeared from view and three more sets of cameras and tripods peppered the studio floor. The kitchen lights remained ablaze, but the round, overhead lights above the studio were dimmed.
The result was an instant charge of energy.
Or dread, Ella wasn’t really sure.
“Welcome back, contestants.” Nathan Charleton motioned for them to cluster to one side of the room. “I trust you had a pleasant lunch. You’ll be glad you’ve had plenty of nourishment because—” he paused and pointed at the group—“this afternoon’s challenge will lead to what you’ve all been waiting for. The first elimination ceremony.”
A chorus of groans echoed what Ella felt.
This was it. The contest was on, no doubt about that now. Up till this point they’d felt and operated as a single team. But now the gloves—or Chef’s mitts—would come off and may the best chef among them win. Anticipation wiggled around in Ella’s stomach and she tried to embrace it rather than fight it. This was why she’d come three thousand miles in the first place, wasn’t it? To win the contest that would guarantee a safe future for Chloe.
The truth could not be avoided. As much as they liked one another and as well as they got along, the contest would boast only one winner. In the end, it would come down to which one of the eight held up under the pressure, delivered culinary delights, and provided an entertaining performance.
Ella held her breath as the host continued.
“This is your challenge. You will each prepare the dish that won you a place in the finals. You’ll have two hours to prepare both the dish and a demo tray. After presenting your demo to the judges panel, you’ll be individually rated then you’ll prepare for the elimination ceremony. Tonight—” Nathan Charleton’ voice dropped an octave—“one of you will go home.”
The three judges were introduced and again the three points of judging were covered: performance, personality, and culinary point of view. Ella still wasn’t sure what the latter meant. This afternoon’s challenge left no time for her to mull it over though. She had twenty minutes to prepare her cue cards and do a dry run-through before the contestants began filming.
The earlier butterflies in the pit of her stomach now seemed to be having a block party inside her. Swallowing an acrid taste in the back of her throat, Ella found a quiet corner and rehearsed the steps of her demo. Her winning entry had featured her grandmother’s Vegetable Panini, a dish she could—just like Reggie had said—make in her sleep. She concentrated now on the prep work ahead of her: the vegetable chops, heating the griddle, slicing the baguettes.
This first crucial challenge differed from the previous ones in another way. Before, each finalist was allowed to sit in during each demo and challenge. Beginning today, they’d be sequestered in the green room both before and after their own demo. It added another layer of mystery to the goings-on, making it virtually impossible to know how well one stacked up in light of the remaining contestants’ performances.
Ella had drawn second demo and now she sat huddled in an overstuffed purple armchair, waiting for a stagehand to come fetch her when it was her turn. Deidra, Ben, and Kim occupied the matching couch. Torrie sat cross-legged against the wall, twirling her braids in her hands. Dirk and Henry lay flat of their backs on the green Berber carpet. All were quiet, just waiting.
“Hey, check it out,” Dirk, from his spot on the floor, pointed to the walls. “The green room is really green. I’ve always wondered that.”
It was an observation, but if Dirk was expecting a response Ella was certain he’d be disappointed. Their minds were too occupied at the moment to absorb anything of substance—even something as minute as the color of the green room.
“How do you think Patty is doing out there?” Deidra was the first to voice it.
Ella straightened in her chair. She’d been thinking about Patty too. The woman was an enigma to the rest of the group. She fascinated Ella every bit as much as she startled her. With her short, dark pixie cut and waif-like features, she appeared as harmless as a feather on a china dish.
From a distance, that is. Face-to-face with those small beady eyes and firmly set lips was enough to make Ella back up a step or two.
“She’s doing fine,” Ben piped up from his corner of the couch. “Haven’t you watched her in the kitchen? She’s a whiz with her chops. If you ask me, that spooky persona is all an act.”
Ella stared at Ben. Was it possible that someone could have their head in the game deep enough to effect a persona, for crying out loud? It was all she could do to function well as…herself…let alone trying to feign a false front just to throw the others off balance.
“I don’t know…” Torrie didn’t sound convinced.
“Wait a minute.” Deidra held up a finger. “I think Ben may be on to something. She was the only one that didn’t go to lunch with us today, right? Something about having an appointment or something like that? Well, when we were leaving the restaurant, I saw her at a table off to the side. By herself.” Deidra’s voice was emphatic, and she jerked her neck as though to accentuate each word. “What happened to that appointment, I ask you? She didn’t have one, that’s what!”
Ella giggled. “Deidra, that’s a stretch. Give the woman a break. I mean, she freaks me out to, but I don’t think she’s sinister or anything.”
“Hmph, maybe not,” Deidra crossed her arms. “But that woman’s got some real bad mojo going on up in that head of hers. You know what I’m talking about now!”
The doorknob to the green room clicked and all seven of them turned to the door. Patty walked in and took a seat in a metal folding chair nearest the door. She nodded curtly, acknowledging their presence, but then hid her head behind a dog-eared copy of California Living.
Ella watched as Dirk sat up and stared, first at Patty, then at each of them. He raised his eyebrows in question, but she only shrugged her shoulders. They’d all love to ask Patty how the demo went, but no one really knew how to approach her. Ella didn’t know what the deal with Patty was, but she did know she envied the woman right now.
The door opened and a stagehand poked his head inside. “Ella Paglia?”
Ella sighed and stood up.
Patty had another challenge behind her—at this moment, a position Ella envied.
*****
Luke’s chest tightened as he watched Ella walk to the center of the kitchen and take her place behind the counter. Almost like he was nervous for her. Or maybe he was just nervous right along with her, that was more like it. It wasn’t that he feared she’d flub up or make some awful error. All the contestants made mistakes; the competition didn’t require perfection. But it did require releasing your personality in front of a camera and being at ease with your movements and actions.
Ella had the latter down pat, Luke was convinced of that. She moved about the kitchen with a grace that captivated him, handling the pots and pans and ladles and mixers with the greatest of ease. It was the former part—the personality issue—that troubled him.
In Milltown, at Max’s Diner, Ella’s personality had been larger than life. Funny in a very unintentional way, her comedic expressions and quick wit had added wonderful layers to her naturally quiet persona. Here, in the studio kitchen, she was reserved, holding something back from the camera.
Luke feared she held back the very thing that could win this contest for her.
He and the other crew members had the distinct advantage of seeing all eight contestants in action. It tickled Luke the way folks reacted with a camera trained on them. Some of them—like that woman, Patty—become an animated version of Superwoman.
Luke nearly fell off his stool the first time Patty had opened her mouth during filming. The mousy, timid housewife vanished and in her place stood a ball of pure energy, tossing knives and pepper mills around like she was Tom Cruise in Tequila Sunrise. It beat all Luke had ever seen.
Then you had folks like Ben. And Ella. People with unmistakable skills and resources. But they tended to hide from the camera instead of reaching out and embracing it. For something to be appealing on a TV screen—whether it was the food or the chef—it had to be over the top.
Okay, Ella, show me what you’ve got. He eased behind his camera and waited for Marnie’s countdown. Ernie, another camera guy, would be taking the opening sequence of shots, so Luke used this time to zoom in tight on Ella’s face. Show me that beautiful smile, Ella.
“Three…two…one!”
On cue, Ella smiled into the camera and made her opening speech. Luke didn’t move a muscle as he watched, following her every move. Introducing her recipe—Luke wasn’t even certain what a panini was—he locked back into position as she turned on the grill then moved to the far counter to begin her chops.
Focusing the camera on Ella’s hands, he watched as she lined up eggplant, zucchini, and onions, then began to slice them with the ease of a pro. Her fingers—short and slim—were topped by neatly manicured nails, covered in clear gloss. Luke knew her hands would look awesome on-screen. He couldn’t say the same for everyone else he shot. Take Patty, for instance. The woman was a whirling dervish in the kitchen, but her hands looked like they needed a good long soak in a bowl of Madge’s Pamolive.
Ella finished the vegetables and reached for a basket of sliced baguettes. Working with one piece at a time, she spread a thin layer of pesto sauce, then layered slices of eggplant, zucchini, onion, tomato, mozzarella, and roasted red peppers. Sprinkling it all with salt and pepper, she then slid the sandwiches onto the griddle and placed a heavy iron skillet on top of them.
“You can use a panini maker if you want,” She spoke clearly and without hesitation. “But I like to make these sandwiches the way my grandmother taught me.”
Ella paused and grinned at the camera, pointing to the heavy skillet. “So I just use any old cast iron pan I have around. They’re just weighty enough and press the baguette in much the same way as an expensive panini maker.”
Good job, Ella! Luke wanted to shout out loud. She’d made it personal. Shared a little of herself with the camera. Now if she could just relax into it…
*****
Ella trailed down the hallway behind Dirk and Henry. Torrie walked on one side of her and Deidra on the other. Just behind them came Patty, Ben, and Kim. The motley group somehow reminded Ella of a bunch of kids, walking the long barren school hallway to the principal’s office.
They entered Sound Stage C as a group of eight. But only seven of them would return in the morning.
Ella’s lunch—was it only seven hours ago that they’d all been laughing and cutting up at Tony’s Bistro?—felt like it was lodged somewhere between the base of her throat and the middle of her ribcage.
Never could she remember being quite this nervous. Even walking the long church aisle to meet Stephen at their wedding and her planned C-section with Chloe seemed like a cakewalk in stark contrast to the panel of judges she was about to face.
Ella didn’t know what kind of stakes the other seven had in this competition, but for her, they were high. Winning this meant an opportunity to carve out a future that would utilize her talents and passions and also provide a generous and stable income for Chloe. It was a long shot; she’d known that going in.
But now that she was here, Ella intended to give it everything she had to make it all the way.
They entered the dim studio. The three judges sat behind a long table, a single row of track lighting illuminating the space. Just behind them, cloaked in semi-darkness, stood McAllister Pruitt, himself. The lunch-turned-stone in the pit of her tummy rolled over as Ella glimpsed the man who held the key to her future.
The eight contestants walked to the center of the room and took their places. When they were settled, Nathan Charleton stepped forward.
“Tonight we’ve reached the very first elimination ceremony. You’ve been introduced to the judges, but now let me tell you a little about each of them. You’ll be seeing them a lot over the course of this competition. First up, Tom Fogelman, Senior Vice President of Programming and Production here at The Cooking Channel.”
Nathan Charleton took a couple of steps and smiled. “The pretty lady next to Tom is Heidi Turner. Heidi’s role with the network is that of VP of Marketing. And last, but certainly not least, we have Jordan Elliott, well-known TV broadcaster.”
Ella surveyed the three judges, but could get no real feel on just how tough or how lenient the trio might be. Each of them smiled and waved at the contestants as they were introduced, but it was clear by the expressions on their faces now that they were all business.
“Now for the icing on the cake, ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to present Mr. McAllister Pruitt.” Even Nathan Charleton’s voice contained a timbre of awe.
Ella’s fists clenched in anticipation at her side as the tall, daunting man stepped from the shadows, and came to stand before them.
“Good evening,” He nodded and looked each of them squarely in the eyes before continuing. “It’s my great pleasure to welcome you all to Los Angeles, but more specifically, to this competition. At one time, not so many years ago, I was in the same position you are right now. I had a dream, and that dream was to operate my own restaurant.”
Ella found herself relaxing as McAllister Pruitt began to share his background. She leaned forward in interest, finding it amazing that a man of his stature would be this candid.
“I came from a family that could barely afford to place the basics on the table, let alone purchase the extras we all enjoy today. I began to experiment with bits of this and pieces of that—all leftovers from the meal before. I cultivated a love for experimenting with food.” He smiled. “I still love to experiment.”
Ella could relate. Some of her best concoctions had been mistakes gone right.
“I finally lassoed my dream after ten grueling years. Now I want to help one of you lasso your personal dream. One of you will walk away from this competition with your own restaurant.
Not a sound was heard as McAllister finished speaking and retreated to the corner. Ella hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath, hanging on to every single syllable out of the man’s mouth. She blew it out in a long, soft sigh.
“Contestants, we want to thank each of you for your participation in Restaurant 101. Obviously, the network saw something exciting in each of you or you wouldn’t even be here. But as contests go, there can only be one winner and tonight we’ll take the group down to seven.” Nathan Charleton gave one last look at the finalists, then turned to the panel. “Judges, I’ll turn it over to you now.”
The one named Tom stood and picked up a sheet of paper from the table in front of him. He ventured a small smile as he began to speak. “I want to second the comments our host, Nathan Charleton, made. All eight of you show amazing potential and we’d love to be able to keep all of you. But tonight we are asking the following people…to stay.”
Ella felt her stomach drop the remaining distance to her knees and she forgot how to breathe. Without thinking, she reached out to clutch both her neighbor’s hands. In some remote corner of her mind she realized she’d grabbed hold of Patty’s hand, felt a half-second’s resistance, and then the warmth of Patty’s skin as the woman returned her anxious squeeze.
“When I call your name, please step forward. Dirk…Deidra…Henry…”
Ella stood frozen as Henry released her hand and stepped forward to join Dirk and Deidra. She felt Patty move in a little closer to her, and found it somehow oddly comforting.
“Torrie…Ben…Patty…”
Patty gave Ella’s hand one last squeeze, then joined the others in line. Ella felt sick. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it. Being plucked out during the very first round of competition.
“Kim and Ella, we have a few comments to make about your performance in the studio today.”
Ella nodded, rubbing her clammy palms along the side of her denim skirt. She watched as Heidi, the lone woman on the panel, stood.
“Let’s start with you, Kim.” She nodded in his direction. “There’s no question that you are a skilled chef, particularly with Asian and Asian-inspired dishes. You’ve impressed us with your knowledge of foods. What we’re not seeing, however, is the ability to speak clearly and concisely. This is a trait that any good TV host or hostess must possess.”
Ella saw Kim nod his head in acceptance. Her knees buckled a little further when Heidi turned her gaze her way.
“And Ella. You’ve got definite style, and a real flair for cooking. Just like with Kim, it’s obvious that you, too, have a vast knowledge of kitchen operations. What we’d like to see more of though—and haven’t yet—is Ella.” Heidi stretched her arms wide. “Let us see who you are, Ella. All of you.”
Ella tried to smile, but wasn’t sure if she’d been successful. She just wanted this moment to end. Whatever the outcome…
“Ella…we’d like you to…stay.”
Like a punctured balloon, Ella felt her lungs give out and a burst of air shot through her. “Oh…” A mixture of relief and excitement and a sadness for Kim almost overwhelmed her. She took Kim’s outstretched hand.
“Good luck,” he nodded to her.
The next half hour passed in a blur of motion and activity as the group bid their farewells to Kim. When they’d all waved to him as he drove away in a cab, it was a moment of bitter sweetness.
As the remaining seven sat together, rehashing the day’s events and that night’s elimination ceremony, Ella couldn’t help feeling a bit like a knobby-kneed school girl who had won the spelling bee by default. She listened to the chatter around her, marveling that some of the other contestants had the confidence to openly boast about their progress thus far.
As near as Ella could tell, the competition was just heating up. And—if today was a clear indicator of things to come—the road to restaurant ownership via this particular route would be bumpy, at best. She was ecstatic that she was still in the game, but her heart ached that it was at the expense of someone else’s dream.
Tonight, Kim’s dream had been sacrificed.
Whose would be next?
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