Deja Ortega: Oddsbreaker Page 18

  “I’ll make time,” Deja answered, still busy with the eel.

  Side by side, Geoff and Deja worked to plate the dish. He put the tortillas down, then Deja put down some of the eel pieces while Geoff placed the salsa on top. Deja finished it off with the sauce. As soon as they finished that, Deja told Geoff to get the crescent-shaped forms for the rice. The half-moon shape would hug the curve of the plate, making it look even fancier.

  Deja tasted the rice and experienced a little bliss. It turned out wonderfully. Turning off the element, she and Geoff raced the clock, pressing the rice into the special forms.

  “Ten, nine, eight…” said Chub. Just as he counted down the seconds, they plated the last of the food and tossed on a little more sauce. Deja almost stopped breathing, but they had made it. Now to wait their turn to see if they had made the cut.

  Deja knotted her hands behind her back. This was an elimination round. Only ten of the twenty-five chefs would make it through. She just hoped this dish would keep her and Geoff in the running. “Tiiiime to diiiiine,” their host said with glee.

  “And now,” Chub announced, “we come to Chef Gaskón. What have you made for us?”

  “I’ve made gorshun eel pie for your eating pleasure,” said the porcine chef, bowing in the direction of the judges. “It has baked eel with a medley of carrots, yorbas, and devlons in a truffle gravy and a side of crisp, garlic bread sticks.”

  The judges sampled their pies. Deja wondered if the chef had done a good job or not. Finally, a series of chimes sounded, and the judges pushed their plates aside. Most of the culinary critics pulled out palate-cleansing sprays. Inciardi, however, reached inside his tailored blazer to retrieve something. When the camera zoomed in on him, Deja recognized the gilded, nano-equipped toothpick. Of course. The new gadget he had shown off during the trip to this planet.

  “Well,” Chub asked, “what do we think, judges? Is the pie to die for?”

  “The gravy is a little over-seasoned for my taste,” said the Rekloran judge named Greggston. “But the sweet hints of truffle make up for that. I loved the flaky pastry, and the eel was definitely the star of the show.”

  One Vinadroan, Chef Renthar, said, “Ah, I agree with you on the eel. But I disagree with you on the gravy. I thought its notes of truffle and white wine blended well together. What I don’t get are the breadsticks. We have plenty of starchy goodness in the pie itself. We don’t need more ‘bread’ of any kind.”

  Judge Inciardi was up next. “I didn’t care for the breadsticks either. Not necessary. Too similar to the pie’s crust. I thought the eel in my pie was a bit overdone and rubbery, though. Hence, I can’t give you points for that. It’s a shame, since everything else in the pie melded so well together.”

  On down the line, the judges provided their critique. It was too soon to tell if Chef Gaskón had made the cut. But Deja hoped he had. And then it was Deja and Geoff’s turn.

  “Thank you, judges. And now we will hear from Chef Dubois, whose sous chef had quite the adventure making these tacos. Tell us, are you truly feeling well, Sous Chef Blackleaf?”

  “I feel a little fried, but not as fried as these suckers,” Geoff quipped.

  The audience and a few of the judges chuckled.

  “I’m glad he’s fine,” said Deja. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have these delicious Cajun tacos to present with fresh corn salsa, lime sauce, and a side of dirty rice with livers and sausage. Enjoy.”

  The judges ate and talked amongst themselves. This time, it was Chef Inciardi’s turn to start the judging. Of course, he first had to remove the golden toothpick from his mouth. “I find these tacos to be…excellent. Fiery and meaty yet delicate. The lime sauce gives us just the right amount of acidity, and the eel is fried to perfection. Even the rice is quite delicious, offering a bouquet of flavors that meld like a symphony. However, I’d say the rice is not spicy enough, but everything else about it is delectable.”

  “High praise! And what say you, Chef Tintillus?” asked the host, who addressed the amphibious Zoox.

  The chef raised a webbed hand and waved it over the dish. “My one real complaint is that there wasn’t enough of it! The eel had a depth and fire to it that hit the spot. I didn’t care much for the corn salsa. But the rice had me licking my chops.” He made a ribbiting noise in the back of his throat, which puffed out a little. That was quite the compliment among Zooxes.

  The birdlike Ractyl, Chef Mikaw, spoke up next. “The eel was meaty and fried very nicely. The lime sauce could use some work. Even a simple squeeze of lime would’ve been fine. Don’t overthink your dishes, Chef Dubois. I also liked the rice, which was a good counterpoint to the tacos.”

  After all the judges delivered their verdicts, Deja and Geoff bowed to them. Her pulse was pounding, making her head hurt. If she had figured correctly, they were still in this contest. But next up for judging was Chef Glass, who had made an array of sushi. Deja’s rival stood next to her lean, black-haired sous chef.

  “Now for the respectable Chef Riva Glass. What have you made for us?”

  “Esteemed judges, you’ll find a dragon roll with eel, crab, rice and cucumber rolled in genyun avocado slices paired with a wensly sauce. Then I prepared a runshom roll with eel and runshom tempura wrapped in rice and seaweed and complemented with a mushroom sauce. Finally, you’ll see a tuna and eel roll with rice, all finished with a chili sauce.”

  One of the female human judges, Chef Tinhoya, spoke up first after the tasting was over. “I found the dragon roll to be exquisite. I just wish the other two were as good. Still, a solid effort.”

  A male human, Chef Smith, spoke next. “I found all three rolls to be brimming with a complex flavor palate. If only the rice weren’t quite so cooked, it would’ve been flawless.”

  The announcer moved on to the bearish Pintrel. “What about you, Chef Routh. Do you agree?”

  “I preferred the dragon roll, like Chef Tinhoya. Unlike Chef Smith, I didn’t think the rice was overdone. Mine was cooked perfectly. I really enjoyed the chili sauce with the tuna and eel roll. At any rate, the dragon roll was the best of the bunch.”

  Deja sighed. Too bad Chef Glass was so good at what she did. Deja forced herself to pay attention to the rest of the judges’ remarks. Dang. Looks like Chef Glass is going to beat me. Again. But she was pretty sure she and Geoff had placed in the top six. They would live to cook another day.

  Two days later, Deja and Geoff were still in the running. As exhausted as she was, Deja was excited to talk to her father again. She placed a call to his room and waited for the signal to go through.

  “Hola, Papá. How do you feel today?”

  “Hola, Dejacita. I feel like someone carved out my knees and replaced them. Oh, wait, that’s what they did.” His voice was strained.

  “Aren’t they giving you the good drugs?”

  “Sí. Pero no me gustan.”

  “But papá, you can’t get better unless you keep the swelling and pain down.”

  “I know. I just hate feeling so garbled.”

  “I’m sure you do. But you’d better do what the doctors tell you to do. Or you’ll have to answer to me.”

  He scratched at the stubble on his face. “Okay. But we will not be able to talk as often. The stuff puts me to sleep all the time.”

  “That’s okay. I just want you to get better,” she said. “Have they started you on physical therapy yet?”

  “The torture sessions, yes. It is like the Spanish Inquisition, but they ask no questions.”

  She winced. “Yes, I’m sure it’s hard, but you’ve done harder things, yes?”

  He groaned. “I don’t know. These days, I feel too old for all this.”

  “Don’t give up. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and we’ll go through it together, okay?” Her eyes started misting.

  “Okay, mija. I can’t wait to see you. And now I had better take a dose of the ‘good drugs’ as you called them.”

  She laughed. “Good for you. Sleep we
ll.”

  “Adios, mija.”

  “Adios.”

  She ended the call and wiped away a few tears. Her father was in such bad shape. Yet he still managed to be brave. She hoped she could be as brave in his situation. For now, she had to be fearless if she wanted to stay in this cooking contest. She went to the beverage dispenser and ordered a stiff drink. After she downed it, she went in search of a hug. She knew just who’d be happy to give her one. No kissing this time, though. She had to draw the line somewhere, right?

  Many contests and many days later, she and Geoff were still in the competition. She wasn’t surprised that Chef Boyar had made the cut as well. Unfortunately, so had Chef Glass and her sous chef. But at least Chef Gaskón had survived as well. Him, she liked. He had a cheery soul and a shared dislike of Chef Glass.

  “OK,” said Geoff. “You ready?”

  “You bet. Just try to keep up with me.” She grinned.

  Eighteen serving bots, many-armed and equipped with carrying trays, whirred into place outside the kitchen’s serving window. Deja didn’t spare them more than a glance just yet, intent upon plating her first dirt-infused entrée of stuffed poultry and fried bevsnip chips.

  “I need that last batch of chips now,” she said.

  Geoff hurried up with the fryer basket in hand. He dumped the chips on a towel.

  “Lovely,” she said, then tossed them in a bowl with some powdered balsamic vinegar and parmesan cheese. She arranged the chips on a few remaining plates as the commentator counted down the seconds. Several hovercams were filming live from various angles.

  “Three, two…” said Dornack.

  “Done,” she and Geoff chorused, holding up their hands.

  “Excellent job. Now please load the serving bots.”

  Together, they loaded up the gleaming bots with the aromatic plates of food and glasses of spiced punch. A low thrum of energy resonated within the bots. Her food was being scanned for any toxic contaminants. Come on, come on, she chanted. The humming stopped. Satisfied, the bots wheeled around and zoomed off, leaving the oddsbreaker with a smile on her face.

  Using a mirror next to the kitchen’s holopanel, she checked her hair and straightened her chef’s jacket even though the cameras were still filming. A few minutes later, a light above the holopanel blinked a warning. Then the screen flickered on, showing a two-dimensional view of all eighteen judges on the stage. In return, she knew, the camera projected a three-dimensional hologram of her to the food critics, the coliseum’s entire crowd, and trillions of absentee viewers. Just another performance, another dare, she urged herself. Aware of Geoff’s presence off camera, she took heart. This once, she wasn’t alone.

  “Behold our next culinary challenger,” rumbled the competition’s host. “The esteemed judges acknowledge Chef EvaLynn Dubois of the Tiarr System!” Applause rained down from the spectators.

  “Refined host, seasoned judges, spirited guests, thank you all.” Deja bowed from the waist, smiling, all elegant warmth and confidence. As she spoke, she glanced at the judges. “Palate pleasing is my life’s pursuit,” she continued. “Such a pursuit could only lead me here, to the most judicious palates in the galaxy.” The answering laughter and applause melted away her remaining jitters.

  “Our Chef Dubois has a clever tongue,” said the merry Chub. “Is her food even half as clever?” Then, stretching out his words, Chub drawled, “Tiiiiime to diiiiine!” On cue, the serving bots removed the opaque glass domes covering the plated entrées.

  Deja began her spiel. “May I present pounded breasts of kurrocco bird stuffed with a paste of duxelle agabbé mushrooms and crushed wutoo nuts drizzled with gunlup sauce. On the side, you have my homey version of toasted bevsnip chips dressed in balsamic vinegar powder and parmesan cheese. To drink, spiced punch.” As one, the foodies selected a preferred eating utensil and fell to sampling her dish with professional aplomb. Chub narrated their expressions and actions like a play-by-play sporting event. Deja smiled and strove to contain the worries threatening to seep through her defenses. If she didn’t make it past this round, she and Geoff were out of luck. They wouldn’t have time to discover Famous Foodie’s underlying scheme, much less expose Chef Boyar or Chef Glass as the actual schemer. However, Deja’s anxiety faded somewhat as she watched the judges unknowingly dining on dirt. Too funny. So far, Famous Foodie had not tipped his or her hand yet. The activist hadn’t issued any additional commands about the dare, either.

  A series of chimes sounded, and Deja snapped back to the present. The judges cleansed their palates in their preferred ways. Inciardi, predictably, used his beloved toothpick.

  “Dining has ended. Judging has begun,” the host said in a hushed voice. “Now we watch our seasoned experts mull over the meal from Chef Dubois. The next moments are critical. Silence please!” Soon, the judges began typing out notes to themselves and one another via their encrypted data pads. The actual rankings of all contestants would be posted at day’s end. So far, Deja was in the top one-hundred competitors and she had a real shot at reaching the top fifty. Another series of chimes reverberated in the coliseum, calling a halt to the deliberation. “So,” asked Dornack, “how many palates did Chef Dubois please, esteemed judges?” Deja bowed again and waited, adrenaline buzzing in her veins.

  “Chef Dubois brings an earthy undertone to her marvelous, seasoned poultry,” said one female Vinadroan, her ears swiveling forward in what seemed like pleasure. “The crisp bevsnips were quite unlike others I have sampled. Still, I could do with less vinegar on the chips, in truth.” At this rather positive review, the crowd murmured and Deja felt hope rise inside her chest. She dipped her head in thanks.

  “Thank you, Chef Roya. How about you, Chef Gorlaki?”

  “Rustic. Bold yet delicate. Fit for an emperor,” grunted the Tondwian, who was, in fact, an emperor. The alien’s one eye blinked at her with energetic approval. Responding in kind, she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  The four-legged Zoox, Chef Tintillus, leaned back on his haunches and raised his front legs to gesture at his plate. “How Chef Dubois has captured the taste of the forest after a rain, I know not. Yet taste it I did. Magnificent indeed. Perfect? No. The chef would have done better to pair the meal with a brave Zooxian yogg. And the sauce had not the required bite to temper the dish.” The criticisms didn’t surprise Deja, who still took a moment to press a hand to her forehead in thanks. The Zooxes were super fond of their zesty, alcoholic yogg. And they used enough spices to practically wither the tongues of humans and many other life forms. By the time all the critics except Inciardi had passed judgment, Deja felt she could use a little yogg herself. To celebrate.

  Even the snobbish Inciardi had few complaints. Before speaking, the man had to remove his lavish toothpick from his mouth, which the nanobots had no doubt scoured clean. “Chef Dubois executed a notable, robust, and sensual dish with a sleek simplicity that I like. Remarkable depth and freshness. But the somewhat uneven toasting of the chips was substandard.”

  Substandard, ha! If only you knew, my friend. Not for the first time, she thought back to the contest’s opening ceremony wherein the judges’ identities were revealed. Deja’s reaction to recognizing Inciardi had been relayed to Famous Foodie via the bug planted in Deja’s chef jacket. Several people in the coliseum had taken notice of her outburst, including Boyar and Glass. Moreover, Glass had been seated farther away than Boyar, so it seemed more likely that she wouldn’t have been able to hear Deja—unless of course Glass had some hearing enhancements or was listening in on the bio bug’s transmission.

  It seemed entirely plausible that Famous Foodie was either Glass or Boyar. Boyar certainly had no love for Inciardi. And given the “eating dirt” part of the dare, Famous had a bone to pick with the judges of this contest, perhaps Inciardi most of all. If so, the grudge rated personal enough that Famous might have decided to risk being present in person to witness the payback. What, precisely, had these judges ever done to tick off the most infamou
s food crusader in the galaxy? Time would tell. And reveal who Famous was, hopefully.

  Deja’s points began showing up on the in-kitchen score panel. They were almost too good to believe.

  “And that’s it for this round, Chef Dubois. You made a very good showing. How do you feel?”

  “Happy as could be,” she said. “And very grateful to our gracious judges.” It never hurt to butter up the judges a bit.

  “Well, your happiness is well deserved for now. We’ll see what your competitors have to offer. Next up, Chef Yurifoko. Let’s see what she’s up to now, shall we?”

  Once Chub’s attention shifted from Deja, several chefs, including Chef Boyar, turned toward her and offered congratulations. Chef Glass sniffed and looked away. Chef Gaskón, though, came in person and shook her hand. “Tremendous job, my friend.” Bastian was up next to serve the judges, so she didn’t blame him for not coming over.

  “Why, thank you,” she told Louis. “Blackleaf and I gave them quite the show, eh?”

  “Yes. Let’s hope I can wow them, too.”

  “Right. Much luck.”

  Deja’s knees felt jiggly like gelatin.

  “You’ve got them drooling now, boss,” Geoff said with coarse laughter. The arm he wrapped about her shoulders had none of the rowdiness present in his voice, though. Aromas from the day’s cooking mingled with his signature scents. After a brief squeeze, he released her, thankfully. Or not thankfully. Ugh, get back on course, she told herself.

  “Yep,” she said aloud, “don’t I though?” Another chuckle from Geoff. “In fact, I think I deserve a moment off my feet.”

  Everyone else in the kitchen bustled about, still on their own deadlines. None of them cared that Chef Dubois and her sous chef were still there.

  “By all means,” he replied. Footsore, Deja shuffled over to the tall stool that resembled what else but a tropical, red toadstool with green speckles. Geoff trailed after her then leaned against the countertop. Perching on the faux fungi, she breathed a contented sigh. Yet that serenity fizzled as she viewed the unwashed dishes and general disorder in her corner of the kitchen.