Standing at her workstation, beads of perspiration trickling down her back, Lucy awaited Chef Henri’s interrogation.
“Hello, Lucy,” he greeted.
“Hello, Chef,” she replied softly.
“What have you conjured up for us today?”
“I’ve made a Playful Pineapple Parfait, Chef.”
Chef Henri chuckled before asking: “And what makes it ‘playful’?”
“It’s a parfait as far as the fruit and layers go, Chef, but it doesn’t contain all the elements that make a traditional parfait,” Lucy explained. “It’s my own playful take on it.”
“I see. And how did you find the overall challenge?” asked Chef Henri. “Is there anything you had difficulty with?”
“I loved the challenge, Chef. It gave me a chance to showcase my knowledge and ability in preparing fresh fruit desserts,” Lucy answered modestly but confidently.
“Chef Miranda told me you had a near crisis on your hands but managed to sort it out swiftly and without breaking down. What happened and how did you fix it?”
Hiding her surprise that Chef Miranda had noticed something had gone wrong, Lucy swallowed hard before answering.
“It seems that … in their haste … someone didn’t close the fridge door properly, Chef, and so my dessert didn’t set correctly,” she said, licking her lips. “And because of the time remaining, I had to use the freezer, which isn’t ideal – but I kept a close eye on it, Chef,” Lucy said, hoping her decisive action would not count against her.
“Very well,” responded Chef Henri. “Let’s take a closer look then. Presentation – outstanding. Using the stem glasses adds a touch of elegance to your dessert,” he said, ticking off an item on his clipboard. “I’ve already tasted it, so taste and texture – well set, not heavy or dense. In fact, it’s very light.” Another tick on his clipboard.
“I could taste the pineapple, and the orange rind. Layering it with finely grated chocolate enhanced the texture,” he continued, still ticking entries on his clipboard. “The combination of the acidity of the pineapples, orange rind, and lemon jelly, and the sweetness of the crème anglaise and dessert cream – a wicked combination.”
“Thank you, Chef.”
“I didn’t taste any eggs, flour or gelatine. How did you manage to get it to set so well, Lucy?”
“It’s my grandmother’s method, Chef.”
“And what’s that method, Lucy?”
“I’m sorry, Chef, it’s not my secret to reveal,” said Lucy, determined to preserve her grandmother’s legacy.
“That’s fine, Lucy. We all have our secret shortcuts, methods, and ingredients that make our dishes stand out. Well done on the outcome,” Chef Henri concluded.
“Thank you, Chef.”
“You may step out, and please ask Bongani Makhubu to join me.”
The tension created an air of uncharacteristic quiet and sombre restraint in the chill zone. Willow sat at the window, gazing over the college gardens, watching the breeze flit through the seemingly endless rows of aromatic herbs.
“Olá, Willow,” Lucy called, as she got closer.
“Wee-loo,” Lucy called, knowing how much Willow disliked it – saying it made her sound like a toilet. No response. “Willow!”
“There’s no need to shout, Lucy; I’m not deaf, you know,” Willow finally responded.
“You could have fooled me. Where were you – miles away in Durban?”
Laughing, Willow jumped from her perch on the windowsill.
“Speaking of Durban, the guys have sent a flurry of good luck messages. Jason created a group chat on WhatsApp and they’re all asking why you’re not responding.”
“Oh! I charged my phone overnight and forgot to switch it on this morning. Give me a moment to recover, then I’ll reply,” Lucy said, plonking down on the sofa next to Willow.
“Tough in there?” Willow asked, pointing to the kitchen.
“Nerve wracking, with all the questions on what I used to set my dessert, why I named it what I did, and then some,” Lucy replied.
Willow laughed when Lucy told her the name of her dessert.
“That’s hilarious! And so like you, giving it a playful twist. Wait till everyone meets your playful pineapple!” Willow laughed.
Tell us: Do you think the way food is presented is important? And is there any dish that has a texture that you love, or hate?