A few more appetizers trickled their way to the table, but then a whole bunch were served at once—the chefs fighting for attention. It got to the point that the judges couldn’t really enjoy the food at their own pace, and just had to take a few bites of each before moving on to something else. Certainly not the best way to leave a good impression.
One chef took notice and held off on serving, and instead served both their appetizer and entree at the same time. This rewarded them with far more attention, and the other chefs seemed to wise up and held out for the best moment instead of rushing to serve as quickly as possible, even if it meant letting their dishes sit on a warmer for just a bit longer.
Most of the entrees they had were unsurprising, all things they’d had before but usually with a slight twist or flavor. The most out-there one was an inverted pasta—strands of gelled sauce-noodles coated in pasta breadcrumbs. It worked surprisingly well and got satisfied nods all around.
As for critique, it was sparse in the moment. Most of the chefs didn’t want to wait around and hear it, rushing on to their next dish. But those that did didn’t get much from the boys, just general approval or slightly downturned or disapproving faces. If they stuck around longer than that, Phon would give a general critique, usually something having too much/little salt or seasoning or being under/overcooked.
And if they hadn’t already gotten their morale destroyed by that point and were still loitering, Mallea would begin picking their dish apart, inadequacy by inadequacy. A lot of it was just pulling hairs, but she had a way of expressing her disapproval as if the entire dish was ruined because of a mistake unnoticeable to most. It really drove the point home to the chefs, and most chose to abandon any judgment after that—serving their dishes and retreating immediately.
To much of the chefs’ chagrin, none of them got any feedback whatsoever from Kada—the one they were most looking to impress. She was far too absorbed in cleaning her plate every single time, far behind the others in the eating and judging process. And as the meals kept coming, the slower she ate, a bit of a noticeable bulge forming in her stomach by the end.
“So why are you so insistent on finishing each dish?” Chorus came over to ask her at one point.
“Well, if they’re going to be working here, I need to be evaluating the entire meal,” Kada explained. “Not just a few bites. Is the first bite as good as the last? Do you get sick of it by the end? Is the portion too small? It’s all important! And if someone makes me food, I’m going to clean my plate, Cosdamnit! Anything else is just disrespectful.”
And one chef paid respect to her decision, holding up the entire competition. She didn’t serve her dessert until Kada had finished everyone else's, giving her time to eat and enjoy them properly—with a few breaks for digestion and stomach medicine. “This dish is best served fresh, right out of the freezer,” she insisted when asked about the holdup.
Everyone stared with intrigue as the dessert was swirled into cups before them. The chef was good with her technique as well, the dish looking like a crystal-clear unicorn horn. Most of them guessed that it was an icicle, looking like it would be hard and unpleasant to eat, and also impossible with the provided spoon.
Instead of a hard clink, the spoon glided through the clear spiral smoothly, even softer than everyday ice cream. The texture was about the same, maybe a bit more rigid, but in essence it really was just a completely clear ice cream. There wasn’t as much flavor, mostly just sweet, but it was unbelievably refreshing—the perfect dessert after a long day out in the sun.
The chefs were taken backstage for a break while the judges deliberated. “Well this is annoying, it’s split across the board,” Xard had been keeping track of everyone’s opinions.
“Yeah, they were all good, so it’s just coming down to splitting hairs over preferences,” Drim reaffirmed. “Except for Mallea.”
“What can I say,” she leaned back in her chair with a shrug. “Mediocrity in every direction. None of them were particularly outstanding to me, except for some flares of creativity.”
“I hate to say it,” Phon really hated to say it, “but I think we need to leave the final decision to Kada. They were all good, and would all be fine restaurants for this place, so the owner should have the final say.”
“That does sound like the fairest decision at this point,” Xard had to agree. “You’re welcome to take our opinions into consideration, Kada, but we’ll be happy with whatever you decide.”
The owner, with a big decision to make, exaggeratedly stroked her chin in thought for a few moments and then declared, “I’ve made up my mind. You can send them back in!”
Chorus directed the showrunners, and the chefs lined up in front of the judges table. “You!” Kada’s finger quickly landed on one of the chefs after Chorus had declared that there’d been enough built suspense. There were looks of confusion and surprise from the other judges, since this person had been the overall lowest of their shared opinions.
It was the chef that had served the odd dissolving salad. He took a step forward, smirking to himself as he knew it would be him all along. “Yeah, no, you lose. Get out. None of your food tasted bad, but it was all just weird to eat. Might be good for a gimmick, but if I ate a meal at your restaurant, I’d just leave confused instead of satisfied. Try your luck in Shindig.”
“The rest of you, though, they were all great, and I enjoyed them all to the end. You can all have restaurants here!” There was massive applause from the audience and confetti rained down from the ceiling—fake confetti made of light to save the pain of cleanup.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Wow, what a wild competition!” Chorus took over presenting once more. “Even I didn’t see that coming, especially since there’s not enough spots for 9 more restaurants. But oh well, they’ll just have to build more!”
“And although the main competition is over, the show isn’t!” The camera spun to get the judges reactions, who clearly weren’t notified ahead of time in that regard. “You see…” Chorus walked over to their table. “We have two lovely ladies here whose very existence centers around cooking, whether they enjoy it for themselves or not.”
“It would be an utter shame to not let them flex their prowess, especially since they just talked so much zjik in their critiques. And the biggest shame is for our studio audience. They just had to watch you all eat so much delicious food but didn’t get a morsel for themselves. I bet you all are hungry, right? Let me hear just how much!” A roar of cheers bombarded the stage from the crowd.
“You two wouldn’t be so callous as to let our guests go hungry, would you?” The host eyed them directly. “So if you’d be so kind as to join me on the stage for one final competition!” Both women looked to Drim, their eyes pleading for an out to not actually have to go through with this. But the boy only gave a slight shrug and nod to the stage to encourage them.
“This competition will be a little different,” Chorus stood in front of the cooking stations that had been left out once the women had joined them. “There’s no point in making you two fight it out over cooking since you already do that almost every day. The audience surely is sick of seeing that pointless bickering.”
“So for a real challenge, we’re going to have the two of you work together! Through your efforts combined, you must create one single dish to serve to the entire audience. We won’t be picking a winner, as it’d be impossible to measure, but we’ll all know who contributed the most, won’t we? There may be no winners, but you’ll know yourselves who the loser is. Will it be you?”
“So give it your all. Oh and one final caveat. We’ve cleaned up the dishes at these stations for you, but as you can see, there’s plenty of leftover ingredients. We don’t want to be wasteful, so the dish must be entirely made from what you can scavenge. This would normally result in something mediocre, but I’m sure the two of you can make something delicious, if you’re actually good at cooking, that is.”
“Now since this competition is all about cooperation, how about starting it out with a nice friendly handshake?” Both women didn’t oblige right away. Instead, they scanned the area, taking stock of what they had to work with at a glance.
“Well, with dregs and a lot of people to feed, that only leaves one viable option,” Phon quickly worked it out and then held out her hand.
Mallea reached out and grabbed it for a shake. “Stew.”
“Stew.” Phon nodded in confirmation and then they shook, but then neither of them let go. “And since we both know that the broth is the most important part, I’ll go ahead and start on that.”
“Not a chance,” Mallea immediately refused, tightening her grip. “That should be left to the professional, since as you said, it is the most important. Someone like you is more suited to prepping the meat and vegetables.”
“Ah, but see that’s where your unique skills would come into play,” Phon protested. “You would certainly make them far more uniform and evenly cut than I ever could. Meanwhile, making the broth is just stirring. Any simpleton can do it.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” that only made Mallea smile with even more ferocity. “But the benefit of stew is that everything doesn’t need to be even and uniform. Each bite is a new surprise, so I think you’ll be perfect. Get it all done and then we can possibly consider any additions you’d want to make. Sound fair?”
“Fine,” Phon jerked her hand away and then walked away with a devilish sneer. She scrounged around the tables, picking out any suiting ingredients that would be in good condition. After she had a tub full of vegetables, she brought them over to the same station that Mallea was using and began peeling—making sure to get as close to the woman as possible, forcing herself into her line of sight.”
“Whoops,” Phon cried as insincerely as possible when she carved out a huge chunk of potato. “Oh no, how clumsy of me,” the peeling got even worse. “Wow, there’s going to be barely any left for the strew. Unless you think they’re fine with these long shavings.”
“Ugh, switch with me,” Mallea yoinked the peeler out of Phon’s hands and began meticulously and perfectly preparing the vegetables. Phon moved over to the broth, took a sip, winced, and immediately began making modifications.
After letting it simmer a bit, she began adding the ingredients as Mallea prepared them, but quickly outpaced her. So, she got bored and began wandering around to the stations again. There were a few spices she’d overlooked on her first pass that she made sure to grab.
“Huh, interesting,” something stopped her in her tracks. “There’s a bunch of already-proofed dough here. Guess one of the chefs decided against using it. Hmm, we could possibly make bread bowls or rolls to go with the stew.”
“Breadsticks,” Mallea called back to her. “We don’t know what kind of dough that is or how well it will bake. But the texture doesn’t matter as much with breadsticks since they can dunk them in the stew. And they’re simple enough that even you can make them.”
Phon didn’t deign that with a response, but she brought back the dough and began shaping it into sticks. Once Mallea finished up chopping the meat, she seared it a bit before putting it into the stew to really let it cook. There ended up being so much that they had to divide it up into several giant pots, but that meant the audience could eat their fill.
Stomachs started to rumble around the room to the point that Chrous began playing some background music to drown it out. There wasn’t much to distract them at this point since it basically just turned into a waiting game. Kada even came up at one point to ask if they needed a taste tester—somehow still having any room.
Eventually, Drim and Xard had to intervene, as the cooperative cooking devolved into a war of spices. Both Mallea and Phon kept adding tiny dashes of spice to try and correct the other’s changes. The boys dragged them away and Chorus did a taste test themselves to make sure it was adequate. After dishing themselves out a bowl, they gave the okay for the stagehands to begin serving the crowd as the women were taken off the stage kicking and screaming, spice raining out of the shakers in their hands.
“What a lovely meal!” Chorus took a bite on camera after everyone had been served. “Don’t you agree, everyone?!” the most cheers of the day erupted from the crowd. “Thank you for watching everyone and tune in next year, maybe, possibly, if there’s restaurant space or some other prize if we do this again. For the Second Annual Mermaid’s Reef Supper Showdown!”