Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 231

Abby

Duck. Pork. A flaky pastry dough.

It should be easy. I’ve practiced it a hundred times, tasted it a thousand. It’s one of my favorite French dishes to make, and yet, as the stage descends into organized chaos…

I’m frozen.

My eyes are wide like a deer in headlights. The deafening roar of the crowd, the sound of voices and cooking utensils, the movement of the cameras and the announcer’s voice booming over the microphone—all of it is too much.

Suddenly, I feel as though I’m being transported back in time, back to a time when I was much younger…

It was my first year of culinary school, the end of my first semester. For our final project, we were supposed to compete in a style not all that much unlike the cook-off, minus the sky-high stakes and the television production of it all.

The class was gathered around our stainless steel tables, dressed in our fresh white chef’s uniforms, as our professor—Chef Andrews—paced back and forth in front of us, announcing our task for the day.

“Today,” he announced, “you will be preparing beef stroganoff. A simple dish but one that demands attention to detail. I expect each and every one of you to utilize the techniques we have been practicing all semester. You may begin.”

As the class launched into action, I felt my hands go clammy. I was at my station, my ingredients in front of me, but my mind went blank.

How could I forget something as basic as beef stroganoff? I had made it a dozen times before, but at that moment, it felt as though someone had wiped my mind clean.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember how to get it started. The ingredients in front of me felt foreign, and I felt utterly lost.

My classmates seemed to be taking on the task just fine, dicing, searing, and seasoning as if they were born with a skillet in their hand. Then there was Michael, the guy who treated every class like a personal performance.