“Team number’s fourteen, fifteen and sixteen get ready! Your hour starts in thirty seconds.” The MC announced.
There we stood waiting to cook. Breion. Kelsey, Gilda, and myself, Team sixteen
The four of us formed a circle, huddled up and prayed.
“Remember,” Kelsey started after we broke from the huddle, “The only difference between the fundraiser and now is, there will be more people watching us, and we’re being judged on our performance.”
This is a first, not only for us as a team but, also as a school. The Prostart Culinary Competition is in its fifth year, and out of twenty-two teams, twenty of them have participated in this competition at least once. And this is the third or fourth time for at least half of these teams. So being one of two teams that are in its first year in this competition was a little daunting. Earlier we found out that the other first year team didn’t show up today, which was sad considering they brought all of their supplies yesterday and, were the only ones who actually talked to us. Nonetheless we still felt like baby goldfish in a tank full of barracuda, all of us hungry for the taste of going to state.
This is Regionals, the next step is State, then Nationals. Only the top three teams from the culinary competition side, and the top three from the restaurant management side could move on to State, and only one team from each would go to Nationals.
We started fixing our own chef uniforms, then fixed each other’s.
“Compared to what we’ve seen so far, we are going to make first.” Breion, said with confidence.
Confidence, Cockiness, Arrogance. Call it what you want, but we believed, no, we knew we were going to make it to state.
“Fifteen seconds teams.”
We each ready as we threw our hands into the middle.
“One, Two Three, Team Guthrie!” we shouted throwing our hands into the air.
“Five seconds!”
We took our places. Kelsey had the appetizer, Breion and I were in charge of the entrée, and Gilda had dessert.
“Three!”
This is it.
“Two!”
Every second matters.
“One!”
We are soo going to state.
“Begin!”
Kelsey started the team timer, which would serve as our own personal clock. We weren’t allowed to use any equipment that used electricity. So, no blender, no mixer, no clock. Just hand utensils that would help us cook. On top of that, we were only allowed two gas burners for the whole competition to cook an entire meal from. Yea, Two. Gas. Burners. For an appetizer, and entrée, and dessert.
I pulled out a cutting board and a skillet from our large tub of kitchenware that was underneath the table and set it on the table and, on top of the burner respectively. Since they take forever to warm up, much less after being turned on.
I turned the knob but the burner didn’t turn on. “This is not good.” I say under my breath.
I know for sure that I stood there for at least two minutes messing with the stupid machine. Thirteen knob turns, and a reset can later, the flames finally appear. I poured some oil into the pan, than grab a small package of bacon and begin cutting four cold strips into pieces. The competition burners were better than the ones we practiced with because they heated up a lot quicker, which I had hoped would make up for the lost time. Soon a crowd flocked over to our station at the sound of the sizzling bacon and sweet red onions that I was cooking, which only lasted for a few minutes, before I had to take it off of the burner, and set it on a speed rack that was behind us. After retrieving a container of Brussels sprouts from the ice chest, I sliced them into circles and pulled them apart turning them into ribbons. Putting them back into the same container they came out of.
“Kelsey time.”
“45 minutes!”
Returning the Brussels sprouts to the cooler, and exchanging those for ingredients for my part of the entrée, I noticed a lady standing just outside of our station watching us. She was supposed to
