Chapter 17
“It’s a week before exams, and I’m a nervous wreck,” Jane observed. Caitlin and her friend walked into the study hall.
“I don’t think you’re the only one.” Caitlin looked around her, noting the tension in the air. Every carrel desk in the study hall was occupied. In between classes, she usually parked herself in one of the desks and tried her best to review her notes. But cramming all the learning from the past four weeks was a daunting task. They were just overloaded with old and new information. The instructors planted hints on what items to study but their suggestions conflicted with one another.
“Do want to go somewhere else?” Jane looked at her watch. “We have about three hours to kill before our next class.”
Caitlin nodded. Even if they waited, they would unlikely find seats. “Where do you have in mind?”
“Let’s go to Ono Cafe,” she said, “Come on.”
As they were heading toward the exit, they saw Jason entering the school.
“Jason,” Jane called, her voice rising over the rumble of voices in the hallway.
Jason stopped at hearing his name. When he saw them, he made his way over.
“Where are you guys going?”
“The study hall is full, so we’re heading out to Ono Cafe to study,” Jane explained. “Want to come with us?”
“Sure, if you’re driving,” he said.
Ten minutes later they arrived at the cozy diner. Hanging from the wall was a blackboard menu of various beverages, soups, and sandwiches. There were about ten tables in the small coffee shop, with most of them were occupied with tourists and other students from the school. Upbeat music filled the air, giving the shop a relaxed vibe that was so typical on the island. After they ordered their drinks, they found their seats.
Jason pulled out a Tupperware box from his bag.
“What’s that?” Jane asked.
“I was taking a break from studying and baked some cupcakes last night. Here, try some.” He pushed the container toward them.
They were a total of three cupcakes, each resembling a character from Sesame Street. The colorful personalities with huge grins on their lovable faces stared up at them.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Caitlin said, impressed. “I’m certain that these cupcakes could easily grace the cover of a food magazine. And they’re almost too cute to eat, although I’ll still make the sacrifice.” She picked one out and took a bite. Rolling her eyes, she said, “Mmmm, this is delicious.”
“Amazing,” Jane agreed, her mouth full of the sweet. “My kids would kill for these.”
“I’m glad you guys like them,” he grinned. Then pulling out his notebook, he said, “We should probably start reviewing our notes.”
“Since when did you get so serious about school?” Caitlin asked, raising an eyebrow. She’d rarely seen him jot down anything in class. Glancing down at his workbook, she was even more surprised to see diagrams, notes, and handouts.
“Since I decided that I don’t want to repeat the program,” he answered. “I heard that eight students failed in the last semester.”
“I heard that too,” Jane interjected. “And six students flunked the program in the semester before that.”
Caitlin shuddered at the idea of failing the course. It would take another ten grand to enroll again. “I intend to pass,” she said.
Jason looked at her. “You will,” he said.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she grinned. Caitlin pulled out her notepad from her backpack and laid it on the table. “So what should we start with first?”
“We should know the terms, and go over the ingredients and methods of the more challenging recipes,” he said. They took turns drilling each other over the complex preparations they learned in class.
“Stop,” Jane groaned after an hour had passed. “My brain is officially fried. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to get a cooking degree. I should’ve stayed at my corporate job, and have other people cook for me.” She glanced over at the counter. “Which reminds me; I need to get something to eat.”
When Jane left the table, Jason turned to Caitlin. “Do you think you’ll be ready for the exams?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I still have some trouble executing some of the more difficult dishes. They’re giving us two and a half hours to complete a three-course meal for the judges. I want to practice more this weekend but I have to work.”
“Tell them you can’t work until exams are over,” he said. “Then you can do the practice class on Saturday. I spoke to a couple chefs, and they strongly hinted at some recipes to memorize. Between you and me, I think you should focus on the seared ahi with spinach; the smoked and fresh salmon rolls with leeks; and the lobster chartreuse.”
Caitlin pondered his advice. While she needed the money, she needed to graduate more. And if she could land that job placement, then she would also have full-time work.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll consider the recipes that you mentioned. You also convinced me to attend the Saturday class, but you’re coming too, right?”
“Yep, I’ll be there,” he nodded.
***
Saturday rolled around almost too fast. Jason picked up Caitlin and accompanied her to the practice class. She saw many familiar faces, although everyone she knew seemed strained and nervous.
Before the class began, the supervising chef gave them a small lecture.
“Remember,” the teacher said, letting his gaze settle on each student before continuing. “You have two and half hours to prepare your recipes. If you go over one minute, you’ll be docked one point.” His face turned stern. “If you’re ten minutes over the allotted time, you might as well pack your bags and go home, because you fail!”
His voice reverberated throughout the room as the students stared at him, their faces white with fear. It appeared that the sadistic bastard enjoyed himself at the expense of the students.
Caitlin glanced over at Jason, her eyes wide with worry.
“You don’t have anything to be anxious about,” he whispered. “You’ll do all right. He’s just trying to scare us.”
After they were told what dishes to create, everyone dispersed and went to their workstations. The clock was set, and all the students raced to complete their dishes.
There was little talking, and the typical racket of pots and pans banging on the stoves could be heard. Every so often a curse echoed in the room, and the sound of running feet and shouts of “hot behind” warned others that a student with a dangerously hot item was nearby.
Jason finished plating his creation, and wiped at the edge of the plates when the supervisor yelled, “Time!”
Caitlin let out a whimper beside him. He saw that she and a handful of other students had yet to assemble their plates.
She pulled off her toque and looked as if she was about to cry. “I don’t know how I’m going to shave an hour off my time!”
“Don’t think too much about it,” he said. “These recipes might not even be on the exams.”
But his words did little to comfort her.
“I want to go home,” she said, her tone sounding dejected.
Jason could tell that her confidence flagged, and that this wasn’t the attitude of a winner. He already knew that the job was hers, but she had to believe in her abilities, otherwise no one would be convinced of her win.
“Why don’t you come to my place and practice some more?” he offered. He needed her to fine-tune her techniques on the recipes that he mentioned. If she mastered those recipes, then she would get what she desired, and would never suspect his involvement.
After they picked up some groceries, they swung back to his apartment.
The first recipe they did was easy. Caitlin seared a piece of ahi and laid it on a bed of wilted baby spinach. She finished the plate with several dabs of reduced balsamic vinegar, and a sprig of coriander.
“Perfect,” he said, encouraging her.
Looking over at his creation, she twisted her mouth. “I like your plate better.”
“Just remember that every plate reflects your creativity. The reason I do things differently from you is because I have my own style.”
She nodded and started the next recipe — the smoked and raw salmon roll with leeks. This meal combined the delicious taste of smoked and raw salmon. The fish was marinated in lemon juice, giving it a slightly tangy flavor. There were many ingredients, each item one another perfectly.
When she finished plating her dish, she had a proud look on her face. “This one doesn’t look half-bad,” she said, smiling.
Unexpectedly her smile shot straight down to his gut, and he swallowed.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
For a moment a startled look appeared on her pretty face. But then she let out a quick laugh. “Oh, I get it. Nice tactic to distract me. You’re trying to throw me off my game since you haven’t completed your own dish.”
“Yep, you got me,” he said, forcing out a laugh. “I only have to add my garnishes so I’m not that far behind you.”
Jason quickly put the finishing touches on his plate and moved to the next recipe. When he looked up, he saw that she’d taken one of the live lobsters and had placed it on the cutting board. The next dish they needed to tackle was lobster chartreuse. This recipe combined tender cooked lobster with a rich sauce. Not only was it exquisite to look at, but each bite contained a delightful burst of flavor.
He took out his own lobster and placed it on his work surface. “Come on, you’re a cook. You can’t be squeamish about terminating a lobster.”
“You’re right.” She took in a deep breath. “The quicker I do this, the faster it’ll be out of its misery.”
After she got over her initial hesitation, her movements were quick and precise. Forty-five minutes later, the scent of sautéed garlic, leeks, onions and tomatoes lingered in the air. Taking a plate to the counter, she placed a layer of cooked greens down, arranging the pieces slightly off center. Then loosening the ring mold, she wiggled the creation over the vivid green bed. She alternated slices of carrots and daikon radishes around the plate, allowing the orange and white colors to contrast with one another. Next she artistically laid the lobster body and claws at various angles, and sprinkled finely julienned pieces of candied orange and lemon peels on top of the cylindrical masterpiece. To finish the dish, she set three large orange slices on the right side of the plate, and drizzled five drops of reduced sauce around the tender lobster pieces.
“You finished with half an hour to spare,” he said.
She handed him a fork and pushed her creation toward him. “Tell me what you think,” she said, her tone slightly nervous.
Taking a sample of the food, he made an approving sound. “You’re going to ace this exam. I know it.”
“I hope so.” Lifting the back of her hand, she brushed it across her forehead and grinned. “But you, on the other hand, still have twenty-five minutes left to finish your dish. Now get moving!”
***
The following day, Jason invited Caitlin to his apartment, and he insisted that she go over the three recipes once more. They continued to review their notes and cooking techniques. He also made her recite the recipes that they practiced. By the time the week was finished, he was convinced that she understood the dishes well enough to prepare them with her eyes closed.
Next thing he knew, it was the morning of exams. Jason was up earlier than usual and was in a good mood. As he ate his cereal, he scrolled through the messages on his phone. He frowned when he saw an unfamiliar number. With one hand punching into his voicemail, he used the other to spoon cereal into his mouth. But when he heard the message, he spit out the cereal, spewing the food all over the table.
“What the hell?” he yelled at the device. It was David Molowa.
Pushing his bowl aside, he listened to the message again.
“Sorry to have to tell you this, Jason,” the director said, his voice brisk. “Our shipment of lobsters and salmon won’t be coming in time, so we’re forced to make some amendments to the exam recipes. But don’t worry; your girlfriend will still get her job placement.”
Jason cursed and banged his fist on the table, causing the spoon to rattle inside the bowl. The director listed off the names of the new recipes, but Jason barely heard him. Leaning forward, he threaded his fingers through his hair and let out a frustrated groan.
“This is not supposed to happen,” he said through clenched teeth. He had focused all his time and energy trying to get Caitlin up to speed with the three recipes, the same ones that the director had sworn would be in the exam. But now that was all changed.
He punched in her number and held the phone tightly against his ear. Unfortunately, the call went straight to messaging.
“Aloha, Caitlin,” he said. “It’s Jason. Call me back. It’s urgent.”
Jason ended the call and stared blindly at his kitchen wall. Either Caitlin had forgotten her phone at home, or she had switched it off. Unable to stop it, a sense of dread filled him. Even if he managed to tell her about the new recipes, it was already too late.