Book Retreat Mystery 07 - Murder in the Cookbook Nook Page 5

  Muttering obscenities, Chef Pierce got up from the table and left.

  Later, Jane saw him devouring a bacon cheeseburger and fries in the Rudyard Kipling Café. Judging by the empty pint glasses on his table, he’d also polished off three beers. And even though he’d be competing in less than an hour, he ordered a fourth.

  Jane considered warning Mia but suppressed the impulse. After all, Mia had chosen the contestants. She knew what she was getting with Chef Pierce.

  He’ll bring the drama.

  By the time Jane showed up at the tent, the chef’s introductions had been filmed, and Ty was prepping for the next segment. The judges, whom Jane had met earlier that morning, were seated at their table. A makeup artist, the young man with the straw fedora, was powdering Mia’s cheeks and forehead.

  Mrs. Hubbard waved Jane over to their assigned spot in the corner opposite the judges. Storyton Hall’s head cook was giddy with excitement.

  “You really don’t know anything about this challenge?” she whispered to Jane.

  “Nope. They’re top secret. Only Mia, Ty, and certain crewmembers know the details.” She gave Mrs. Hubbard a playful nudge. “What? Mia didn’t tell you when you two were having those friendly talks?”

  Mrs. Hubbard’s apple-round cheeks turned pink. “It was just a few emails. She didn’t ask me to keep them between us, but I felt I should. Most people want something from her, and I think she liked having somebody like me to talk to. Somebody without an agenda.”

  “Who also happens to be a wonderful listener,” Jane added.

  Embarrassed, Mrs. Hubbard pointed at the cupboards lining the back wall of the tent. “Look at all of the different spices, flour, sugar, and bottles of oil the chefs have at their disposal. This tent is better stocked than my kitchen.”

  Mia gave Ty a thumbs-up. She was ready to start filming the first challenge. With a microphone dangling over her head and a dozen lights shining in her face, she looked directly into the camera and smiled.

  “Today’s challenge is inspired by my childhood summers. Every Sunday, my mom would pack a picnic lunch for our family. We’d grab our library books and walk to the park. My mom always prepared our food in a special way. She’d cut sandwiches into shapes or string our grapes like a necklace. Everything she made felt magical to me. Whenever I see a library book or picnic basket, I think of my mom.”

  The camera panned down, focusing on Mia’s hand, which rested on a stack of vintage books atop a small table covered by a gingham cloth. The table also held a picnic basket and a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in brown paper.

  “Storyton Hall is home to thousands of books. At this beautiful resort, bibliophiles can read, stroll through the gardens like Elizabeth Bennet, or dine like Jay Gatsby. In honor of our setting, all of our challenges will have a literary twist, starting with today’s.” Mia took a book from the stack on the table and opened it. “Ernest Hemingway was a famous American writer. He was also an outdoorsman and a food lover. For today’s challenge, the judges and I would like you to create a Moveable Feast consisting of three dishes. You must pack these dishes in a picnic basket.” A wicked grin appeared on Mia’s face. “But there’s a catch. Everything you make—utensils, plates, and the picnic basket itself—must be edible. You have two hours to create your Moveable Feast, and five minutes to grab your ingredients. Ready? Your five minutes starts now.”

  The chefs leaped into action. Chef Pierce pushed past Chef Alondra, knocking her into Chef Michel’s cooking station. When her hip collided with the counter, she winced in pain.

  The camera caught the judges exchanging shocked glances.

  Mrs. Hubbard whispered, “What a brute.”

  The chefs loaded their arms with blocks of cheese, jugs of milk, sticks of butter, and various meats from the refrigerator. After depositing supplies on their individual counters, they rushed off to collect flour, oil, fruits, vegetables, herbs, and spices from the cupboards.

  Mia walked over to the male judge, Levi Anjou, and asked, “What would you make first?”

  “I’d start with the picnic basket, which I’d make out of bread. If the chefs choose to do this, they’ll need to make the dough and give it time to proof while they work on their three dishes.”

  Mia looked at Coco Kennedy, the female judge. “Edible utensils and plates would be environmentally friendly, but are they doable?”

  “I think so,” said Coco in a silky voice. “If it were me, I’d make crackers. Like a flatbread cracker for the plates, and a Parmesan cracker spork.”

  “A spork would be fun,” Mia said. “Or crackers made into chopsticks.”

  When the cameras focused on the contestants again, Mia pointed out that most were using their stand mixers to make dough. The exceptions were Chef August and Chef Pierce. Chef August was melting sugar in a saucepan while Chef Pierce was grilling chicken breasts.

  “Looks like Chef Pierce isn’t starting with his basket,” Mia said.

  The film crew circulated through the tent, getting footage of the chefs as they chopped, fried, baked, and assembled their dishes.

  The entire process was fascinating. Jane was enthralled from the moment the contestants stormed the pantry until Mia called out, “Fifteen minutes remain in your Moveable Feast challenge!”

  Her announcement was met by groans, cries of alarm, and an expletive from Chef Pierce.

  As the activity at the chefs’ stations intensified, the air was filled with a delightful potpourri of aromas. Jane smelled baked bread, fry oil, browned butter, and chocolate.

  The buzzer sounded, and Mia told the chefs to stop working. The lights and cameras were turned off, and the chefs were given a quick break to drink water, wipe the sweat from their faces, and have their makeup retouched.

  When the cameras started rolling again, the chefs were standing behind their Moveable Feasts.

  Four of the six chefs had woven strips of bread dough into picnic baskets. Chef August, who was known for his incredible sugar work, had used isomalt and yellow food coloring to create a basket that looked like glass. Chef Pierce had carved a watermelon basket with scalloped edges. He’d also created a green and white pattern by cutting diagonal strips in the rind. His design was clever and charming.

  As the chefs presented their meals to the judges, Jane was amazed by their skill and artistry. To her, the most appealing entrées were Chef Saffron’s shrimp and mango lettuce rolls and Chef Michel’s croissants stuffed with tomato, mozzarella, baby spinach, and apricot jam. Mrs. Hubbard was impressed by Chef Alondra’s potato and chorizo empanadas with avocado cream as well as Chef Pierce’s bourbon vanilla fruit dip.

  The judges were filmed tasting every dish. When they were done, they asked the chefs to line up at the front of the tent.

  Coco spoke first. “Chef Lindsay, while we loved your antipasto kebabs, your buttermilk fried chicken was too safe, and your meringues were a bit on the chewy side.”

  Levi turned to Chef August. “Your sugar work basket was beautiful, but your sugar toothpicks were too sharp. We asked for a utensil, not a weapon. Stuffing strawberries with white chocolate mousse was genius, and we were both impressed by your bacon gruyere tart.”

  Chef August thanked the judges and sagged in relief as they moved on to the next chef.

  “Chef Pierce, your basket was colorful and fun,” Coco began. “We loved your grilled chicken pressed sandwich and thought your truffle mayo was delicious.”

  Levi spread his hands. “Unfortunately, your carrot toothpicks didn’t work, and we had issues with your basket. While watermelon rind is technically edible, we didn’t want to eat it.”

  A dark look appeared in Chef Pierce’s eyes. “That’s why I made the fruit dip.”

  Coco dismissed him with a cool, “Thank you, Chef.”

  While the judges critiqued Chef Saffron’s food, Chef Pierce took several swallows from his insulated water bottle. The anger drained from his face. After another swallow, he tucked the water bottle out of sight. His ey
es were now glassy and unfocused, and he looked like he was ready to take a nap.

  “I wonder what’s in that bottle,” Mrs. Hubbard whispered.

  Jane murmured, “I’d bet my book collection that it’s not water.”

  As soon as the judges finished their critique and returned to their seats, Mia reached into the picnic basket and withdrew a gold envelope emblazoned with the Cook’s Pride logo.

  “Cook’s Pride came up with the perfect prize for the winner of today’s challenge,” she said, holding out the envelope to let Ty zoom in on the logo. “The winner of the Moveable Feast challenge will follow in Ernest Hemingway’s footsteps by embarking on a luxury tour of Spain.”

  The chefs gasped or whistled in excitement.

  “All of our chefs did an amazing job today, but there can be only one winner. The winner of today’s challenge is . . .” There was a long pause, and Jane imagined a series of commercials would play before Mia finished her sentence. After several long seconds, she started again. “The winner of today’s challenge is Chef Saffron.”

  A beaming Chef Saffron accepted congratulations from the other chefs as Mia presented her with a golden serving spoon. Having watched Posh Palate before, Jane knew that a golden spoon was given to the winning chef after each challenge. The chefs who won multiple spoons usually made it to the final round, so Chef Saffron already had an advantage over her competitors.

  The lights and cameras were turned off, the judges left the tent, and the chefs began to pack up their tools. Chef Pierce just stood behind his station, sulking.

  While Mia and Ty compared notes about the day’s work, Jane, Mrs. Hubbard, and the film crew were invited to sample the Moveable Feast food.

  Jane was dying to try the fishes, but she had to see to the chefs’ comfort first. Opening the tent door, she peered outside to see two cars waiting to transport the competitors back to Storyton Hall.

  “Whenever you’re ready, your rides are here,” Jane announced to the chefs.

  Looking tired and hot, they collected their knife bags and began filing out of the tent.

  Chief Pierce was the last to leave. As he passed by Chef Saffron’s station, he noticed the golden spoon on her worktop. Eyes glittering with malice, he picked it up and used both hands to bend it in half before dropping it into the utensil crock.

  As he turned toward the exit, he met Jane’s horrified gaze.

  Most people, having just been caught in the act, would be embarrassed or ashamed.

  Not Chef Pierce.

  He blew Jane a kiss on his way out.

  Seconds later, Chef Saffron darted back into the tent. When she saw the state of her gold spoon, she let out a cry. She then pressed the ruined spoon to her chest and snarled, “I’m going to kill him.”

  She stormed out of the tent, her face twisted with fury.

  Chapter 4

  With their first challenge out of the way, the chefs were free until evening. At six, they were to meet for drinks in the Ian Fleming Lounge and then attend a dinner in their honor. For the first time in Storyton Hall’s history, Mrs. Hubbard wasn’t preparing the meal. She’d be breaking bread with the celebrity chefs instead.

  Edwin would also be joining the party. He was eager to compare notes on eclectic eateries and unforgettable dishes with Mia. He wanted to know where she’d had the creamiest gelato, ripest cherimoya fruit, or the tenderest cedar plank fish.

  The final spot at the table was reserved for Eloise. She’d had boxloads of cookbooks shipped directly to Storyton Hall, and the celebrity chefs were scheduled to sign a third of the books after dinner. The signed copies would be displayed at Run for Cover, while the rest would be made available to the public an hour before the next challenge.

  Eloise also planned to ask each chef to inscribe a cookbook for Mrs. Hubbard. “It’ll be a thank-you from the Cover Girls,” she’d told Jane several weeks ago. “For all the goodies she made for our book club this year.”

  “She’ll love that,” Jane had said, feeling a rush of affection for her generous and thoughtful friend.

  Now, as she prepared a quick meal of chicken strips with a ranch panko crust and roasted green beans for the twins, Jane wished she had a new cookbook. She felt like she made the same meals all the time and desperately needed to add to her repertoire.

  “It would be nice if our celebrity chefs created more recipes for busy parents,” Jane said to Mia later that evening. “So many of their recipes require lots of prep time and expensive ingredients. And while French children might gobble up foie gras or omelets stuffed with caviar, my sons won’t.”

  “You need recipes like the spinach dip I told you about.”

  Jane smiled. “Yes! Are there more dishes like that in your cookbook?”

  “Tons. I think that’s why it sells so well. The food is fun to make and fun to eat.”

  The two women were sitting at the bar in the Ian Fleming Lounge, waiting for their cocktails. When their pear mojitos were served, they were too full to carry, so the women took a few sips before maneuvering past the other guests to where the six chefs had commandeered a group of leather chairs in the back of the room.

  “Take a load off, ladies.” Chef Alondra waved at two empty chairs.

  Chef Saffron passed a bowl of cocktail nuts to Mia. “How did your photoshoot go? Did you dress like a Bond girl?”

  Mia’s face lit up. “I did. I’m really into vintage fashion, and I wore an amazing Valentino off-the-shoulder feather gown. With all the wood and leather furniture in here, my red dress totally popped. Bentley will edit the pics and post one tonight.”

  “Is that why you dragged us to the Overlook Hotel? So you could take selfies in rooms named after dead authors?” asked Chef Pierce. When Mia ignored him, he raised his glass in salute. “At least the bartender knows what he’s doing.”

  Chef Lindsay frowned at Chef Pierce over the rim of her wineglass. “That basil gimlet is a craft cocktail. It’s not meant to be guzzled like Gatorade. Is it even safe for you to be drinking alcohol? Does it mix with those pills you showed us at breakfast?”

  “It mixes just fine, Mom. I’m only taking two prescriptions. One for my I-got-no-rhythm heart, and one for my blood pressure, which is off-the-charts because my life is full of pushy women. If I wanted someone to nag me about booze, I’d call one of my ex-wives.” He glowered at Chef Lindsay. “Maybe you should try guzzling a few protein shakes? You could use more meat on your bones. Men like soft, squeezable women.”

  “And women like to be treated as equals, not rolls of Charmin. I can see why you have so many ex-wives.” Chef Lindsay sneered and turned away.

  Chef Michel pulled his chair a little closer to Chef Pierce’s. “We might be competitors in the kitchen, but we should try to get along when we’re not cooking, no? Why not see this as a chance to make new friends?”

  Chef Pierce snorted. “I’m not interested in bonding, and you shouldn’t be either. Tell me, Frenchie. Why are you here? Why do you want to win?”

  “If you can’t call me by my name, I won’t talk to you.”

  Rolling his eyes, Chef Pierce said, “Fine, fine. Michel. Why do you want to win?”

  “I want to start a college fund for my sons. I was the first person in my family to go to college, and it took me a long time to pay off my student loans. Because of those loans, I couldn’t get ahead, no matter how hard I worked, and I don’t want my boys to have the same burden. I also want to give some money to my sister who lives in France.”

  Chef Pierce waved a meaty hand in dismissal. “You’re a good guy, which is why you won’t beat someone like me. I’m here because my three ex-wives have sucked me dry. I’m broke and desperate. I don’t need friends. I need to win, and I’ll do whatever it takes to be the last man standing.”

  “Like ruining Saffron’s golden spoon?” asked Chef August.

  Feeling Mia’s eyes on him, Chef Pierce put a hand over his heart. “I just wanted to see if it was real gold. I had no idea it would bend s
o easily. My bad.”

  “You know not to touch things on another chef’s station,” said Mia. To Chef Saffron, she said, “I’ll give you a new spoon.”

  Chef Saffron shook her head. “That’s okay. The bent spoon will motivate me. If there’s one person I’m going to beat in this competition, it’s Pierce.”

  Jane decided to intervene before Chef Pierce ruined the entire evening. “I think Chef Michel has the right idea,” she said. “You might be competing for the same prize, but you can still be friendly when the cameras are off.”

  Someone mumbled, “Most of us are friendly.”

  “You all have stressful jobs and could use a little pampering,” Jane continued. “Which is why I’ve arranged a spa experience for you. Tomorrow, you can choose from a variety of facials or massages, and as a Walt Whitman Spa guest, you can hang out in our relaxation lounge or in our all-new steam room.”

  “My aching back would love that. Steam me like a dumpling!” cried Chef August.

  The other chefs laughed. Even Chef Pierce.

  After fielding questions about the spa, Jane led her guests to the Madame Bovary Dining Room. As the hostess escorted Mia and the chefs to their table by the window, the other diners stared at the celebrities in open admiration.

  Edwin, Eloise, and Mrs. Hubbard were already seated, but Edwin jumped up to pull out chairs for Mia and Chef Lindsay. Chef Michel, who continued to impress Jane with his genteel manners, did the same for Chef Alondra and Chef Saffron.

  Jane performed the introductions, and it wasn’t long before Eloise and Edwin were talking to the chefs as if they were old friends.

  As for Mia, she was clearly thrilled to be sitting next to Mrs. Hubbard. “You look beautiful,” she told the head cook.

  Compliments always flustered Mrs. Hubbard, who reddened and glanced down at her plate. But Jane could tell that she was pleased. She was even more pleased when Edwin leaned over and said, “I agree with Ms. Mallett. You look enchanting tonight.”

  “I guess I should take off my apron more often.” Mrs. Hubbard gave Edwin a saucy wink.

  Servers appeared with warm dinner rolls and several bottles of wine. As the chefs buttered bread and sipped wine, they shared their greatest kitchen triumphs and disasters with Eloise, Mrs. Hubbard, and Jane.