Page 14 of Things We Need to Say (Second Chance Love Stories #2)

He clasped his hands behind his back as they waited for the judges to enter, mainly to stop anyone else from seeing how much they were shaking.

After a few minutes, three judges filed in and there was a collective gasp as everyone realised who they were.

There were two men and one woman. The woman was Angela Markham, Chef Patron of a two-Michelin-starred, modern British restaurant in Surrey.

She was a chef Jay had admired for many years and the thought of being in the same room as her, let alone being judged by her, terrified him.

The second judge was Philip Saunders. Now in his sixties, he was well known not only for the three restaurants he owned, but also for his commitment to sustainability and using local produce.

But it was the third judge who made Jay’s stomach almost drop through the floor.

Louis Garcia, his former head chef and the man who had bullied both him and Liz at La Emporium.

The man who had lost his job because of what Jay had told Roberto.

How had Louis managed to turn things around so that he was now a judge in this competition?

And would he want to use this competition to exact his revenge?

Around him, he sensed movement. The competition had started and everyone was busy at their workstations, but he couldn’t move.

His eyes were firmly fixed on Louis, who was talking to Angela.

But then Louis suddenly looked up and locked his eyes on Jay.

Louis smirked and Jay felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach.

Fury rose within him. What was it about people like Louis who, no matter what they did, always came up smelling of roses?

And then he realised what he had to do. He couldn’t let the man get the better of him.

He’d have to show him that he wouldn’t be cowed, just like last time.

There were three judges in the competition, not one.

He’d have to go all out to impress the other two and then whatever opinion Louis had would be outweighed.

As he gathered his ingredients together in front of him, he wondered if he could really do it.

Well, he’d just have to give it his best shot like his mother had taught him.

Jay took a deep breath. First things first — he needed to make the broth for the sauce.

In an ideal situation he’d simmer the broth for several hours to get the depth of flavour he needed, but he only had two hours and within that time he also had to cook the pie, so he’d experimented using a pressure cooker to reduce the cooking time and was pleased with the results.

He also placed a roasting tin containing bones with marrow in the oven.

The bone marrow would add flavour and the all-important umami flavour to the gravy inside the pie.

Once the stock was on, Jay started work on the shortcrust pastry.

He had considered using flaky pastry to elevate the dish, but he wanted to make the pastry from scratch and that would put him under too much time pressure.

He’d perfected his shortcrust so that it was buttery and crumbly, but also strong enough to hold the filling without anything leaking out.

Once the pastry was resting in the fridge, Jay started on the pie filling. Reaching for the onions, he spotted the judges heading towards him and tried not to let them see that his hands had started to shake again. He took a few surreptitious deep breaths to calm himself down.

‘Hi, Jay. How’s it going?’ Angela asked.

‘Good, thanks.’ Jay pinned a smile on his face in the hope that it would make him appear confident.

‘And what are you making for us today?’ Philip asked.

‘Well, I was born in Bethnal Green and, as this is a regional competition, I wanted to stick to my roots and the food I grew up with. Us East Enders love our pie and mash, so that’s what I’m making for you today.’

‘Pie and mash?’ Louis asked with his telltale smirk of disdain. ‘How on earth are you going to turn that into fine dining?’

Jay kept the smile on his face. ‘Traditionally, the pie was made from the cheapest cuts, minced beef usually, bulked out by whatever was available to the cook. But today I’m using the finest fillet of beef.

Again, going back to tradition, oysters were commonly eaten in Victorian London, before the Thames was silted up with animal waste and they became more of a coastal food.

But today I’m adding oysters to give the feeling of extra sumptuousness.

You can see I’m making the broth in a pressure cooker, to give it the depth of flavour it needs in the short time it has, and I’m also going to add roasted bone marrow.

Instead of a traditional pie dish I’ve sourced these springform moulds, so that the pie will stand alone and provide better presentation. ’

Louis scoffed. ‘Let’s hope you can get the pies out of the moulds in one piece then, or you won’t have a dish.’

‘I’ve practised it many times and, as long as I grease the inside of the moulds sufficiently, there shouldn’t be a problem.’

‘And how are you going to present the mash?’ Philip asked.

‘Well, that’s where I’m cheating a bit. Instead of mash, I’m actually making pommes Anna as it’s easier to present on the plate.’

‘Lovely. And will we be expected to eat the eels?’ Angela asked, pointing to a bowl on his workbench and pulling a face.

‘I will be cooking them,’ Jay replied. ‘But I know they’re not to everyone’s taste so I’m just using them to flavour the liquor, so that it’s authentic.’

Angela smiled at him. ‘Sounds like you have it all worked out. I’m looking forward to tasting that. And what are you doing for your dessert?’

‘Again, I’m sticking with tradition and I’m making treacle tart. It was a favourite dish in my nan’s house when I was growing up.’

‘So, you’re making two dishes with shortcrust pastry as their base? That’s not particularly well thought out, is it?’ Louis smirked.

‘Yes, well, I did have a bit of dilemma in choosing this dish. In working-class homes, the abundance of carbohydrates was a good thing because everyone used up so much energy through manual labour. But for the competition, I’ve developed a cheesecake-base mixture, which will also incorporate a hint of ginger.

And instead of custard I’ll be serving it with vanilla-and-rhubarb ice cream, a brandy-snap toile and stem-ginger syrup. ’

‘Delicious. I can’t wait to try that,’ Angela said.

‘Well, Jay, it sounds like you’ve got a lot to do, so we’ll leave you to get on with it,’ Philip added before they moved away.

Jay let out a sigh of relief. He felt he’d deflected Louis’ objections well and he hoped he’d impressed the other judges too. Now he just had to make sure that everything was ready on time.

With the first few processes underway and the judges’ questions successfully answered, Jay’s nerves calmed and the muscle memory he had been counting on took over.

So far everything was going like clockwork.

He was glad he’d spent so much time practising because he’d ironed out the things that could go wrong before going in front of the judges.

To his surprise, he even found he was enjoying himself.

It was good to be able to focus on just the one thing without other distractions.

But all too soon the judges were announcing that there was only half an hour left.

Jay consulted his list of things he had left to do.

The pie and the pommes Anna, along with the treacle tart, were in the oven.

The liquor was simmering nicely and the ice cream was churning.

It was just the finishing touches he had to do now and, if he carried on with the same focus he’d had all morning, he might just finish on time.

He’d hate it if he didn’t get everything on the plate.

That would feel like he’d failed before he’d even got to the judging stage.

Around him he could sense rising panic as the other chefs realised what little time they had left and tried to step up a gear. Then suddenly there was a loud crash.

‘Oh, sugar!’

Jay looked up. Rav had dropped a pan and there was sauce everywhere. Rav now stood mesmerised, unable to move. Jay raced over, grabbed the pan and scooped up the sauce that had spilled onto the worktop, and not on the floor, back into the pan.

‘Here you go, mate — probably not as much as you’d like, but not a complete disaster and at least the judges will have something to taste.’

Rav snapped out of his stupor. ‘Oh, thank you, you are a life saver.’

‘Not a problem. I’ll give you a hand clearing this up — don’t want any more accidents.’

‘Thank you, thank you.’ Rav grabbed a cloth and started to clean up.

Back at his own workbench, Jay tried to refocus. He’d lost some valuable minutes but he’d been glad to help, even if Rav was the competition. Now he just needed to catch up.

All too soon Louis called out, ‘Time’s up. Put your dishes at the end of your benches.’

Jay breathed a sigh of relief. He was ready, on time, and everything had gone according to plan. He’d done it. Now the judges just had to like it. If they didn’t... well, he’d done his best.

Around him, some of the other contestants were still trying to put the finishing touches to their dishes, but Louis wasn’t having any of it.

‘Stop what you’re doing and put your dishes to the end of your benches,’ he said. Jay caught his eye and suppressed a smile. It wouldn’t do to antagonise the man, but at least today he had shown he wasn’t scared of him. He couldn’t wait to tell Liz.

As he waited to be called up, he wondered how she was getting on with her scan.

He really hoped that everything was all right with the baby.

He knew how desperate she was for this scan to go well, for both her and Alex’s sake.

As much as it was joyous that Liz was pregnant, Jay recognised it must be bringing back some very painful memories for Alex.