Short Stories

Three Doughnuts

Inspiration taken from the TV show MasterChef. 

~

"Shae, we'd like to taste your dish next." 

My hands shook when I took them off the kitchen bench and grasped my dish's clean porcelain round plate, making my way to the front. I could hear everyone clapping, encouraging me, but I couldn't look any of them in the eye. My gaze was kept on the food I'd cooked resting delicately on the plate. 

When I saw the judges' bench in front of me, I placed my dish down, took the three steps back I'd been instructed, and finally looked up. The three of them were my ticket into the food industry beyond my famous father's name, a name I'd kept secret from everyone around me, but what stood between myself and that prize, that glittering reputation, was the dish I'd cooked. 

"Shae, what have you cooked for us today?" Antonio di Lyre asked, the gentle lilt of Italian coating his words like honey. His dark eyes flickered between my fidgeting feet, how I was holding my fingers softly, as I looked at my plate. 

"I made three jam-filled doughnuts," I explained, my voice quiet, "covered in a spun sugar net." 

Clarissa Fern narrowed her sharp, blue eyes. Looking at me from over thick, black glasses, she motioned to my dish. "What kind of jam?" She politely asked, flicking her dark fringe out of the way of inspection.

"One is peach, one is raspberry, and the other is an apple." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "All the doughnuts are rolled in a salted caramel butter as well, coated in a light dusting of sugar."

Clarissa raised her eyebrows at the flavours, the frown easing off her face, but the third judge tapped his knuckles on the judges' bench. His eyes were cold. 

"The theme today was a dish that challenged you." Milo Volkov reminded me. My face burned with embarrassment. "You're a talented cook Shae, this is easy for you - so what's the challenge?"

I grasped my fingers tightly, looking down at the smears of sugar and butter still stuck to my tanned skin. The blue plasters from accidentally cutting myself from peeling the apples was unavoidable, just like the answer to Milo Volkov's question. 

Looking back up, I cleared my throat. The tension seized up my shoulders, the silence in the hall clogging my ears to the point I could hear my own rapid pulse. "T-The challenge," I cleared my throat again to shake the nerves away. "The challenge was the whole dish."

"The whole dish?" Milo deadpanned. "Doughnuts are a challenge for you?"

"Impossible!" Antonio waved his arms to her. "You made a delicious cake last week that made Clarissa smile, and she never smiles!"

"Excuse me?" Clarissa glared at him. "I smile!"

"It's a challenge for you, I know," Antonio grinned. "But Milo is right, this shouldn't be a challenge for you to cook."

"You never said the challenge had to be a physical technique." I pointed out.

The hall erupted in low murmurs. The corner of Milo's mouth turned up. "You found a loophole, then?"

I shrugged, shifting on my feet yet again. "It was more of an emotional challenge for me. I haven't made that dish in years..." 

The memories began to creep back in my mind. Am I really about to tell this story? I hesitantly looked at the cameras focusing on my face. "It's a long story." 

"Tell as much as you are comfortable, Shae." Clarissa immediately cut in, her expression soft.

I breathed deeply to steady myself, my hands drifting over my bare fingers, where the ghost of a promise ring still rested. "So, um, the week before we started the competition, I said to my boyfriend we could celebrate my birthday early, because my birthday was during filming and I assumed I would be busy with this, you know?