Stir It Up (10 page)

I reach into the freezer and grab some ice for my hand. But only for a few seconds. I have to keep cooking.

I’m not sure how, but I manage to grit through the pain and grab the pot handle — this time with my towel — so I can skim off the fat. I wash my hands, cut the rabbit tenderloins into one-inch cubes as fast as I can, and throw those into the pot. The rabbit smell makes me sick. But I keep going, stirring until the meat is brown on all sides.

I add water, tomato, and peanut butter and let the whole thing simmer. The problem is I don’t know how
long rabbit needs to cook. I’ll have to guess because I’m not going to taste it because of the bacon. In the meantime, I wash the rice and drain it, adding it to the pot with two of the red chilies, which I drop in whole.

I stir the whole thing, lower the heat to a simmer, and glance at the clock. The dish isn’t complicated, so I’ll have to dress it up somehow.

Randolph is mixing something in a bowl with his hands, talking and gesturing to the camera. Little pieces of meat fly off his fingers every time he moves his hands. Brooklyn is bending over her fillet, which is seasoned. She’s slowly smearing it with something pink.

I chop parsley as a garnish for my dish, but what else can I serve with it? I rummage through the staples pantry and find some red cabbage, which I use to make a quick slaw.

I check the creole rice. So far, so good. I leave the cover off so the water can evaporate.

“Five minutes!” Quade calls out, then moves closer to the camera to add more commentary. I look up at my mom and Deema, who are sitting forward anxiously and looking at me with so much love.

I fluff the rice with a fork, then poke through one of the pieces of rabbit. It seems cooked, but it’s a little tougher than I expected. I put the rice, rabbit, and slaw on a plate, then garnish the whole thing with chopped parsley.

There’s a vase of orchids sitting on the counter between me and Randolph. I pluck three small flowers and put them on the side of my plated food.

I smile to myself. My dish looks pretty. Quade calls out, “Time!”

I take a breath and sip some water.
Whew!

“Contestants, please step forward,” Quade says. We all walk up to the judges’ table.

Brooklyn goes first. She’s made some kind of little roll with the rabbit and wrapped it in bacon.

“Tell us about your dish,” Chef Daisy says.

Brooklyn gives her a big smile. “Well, Chef, I pounded out the rabbit tenderloin into a fillet and stuffed it with a mousseline I made with roasted red pepper and a little cream. Then I wrapped the whole thing in bacon and broiled it.”

Brooklyn’s dish looks pretty professional.

The judges each taste some of their plates. There’s a look of surprise on Sam Vitelli’s face.

“This really is good!” she exclaims. It’s funny to see her react genuinely to something, though it makes me worry about my dish.

“Very beautiful presentation and skillfully done,” says Chef Daisy. “Thumbs-up!”

Connor Sebastian still has his mouth full. “This is totally awesome,” he says between chews.

Next, it’s my turn.

Chef Daisy tastes first. She chews, then chews more. She’s thinking. Sam Vitelli hesitantly tries hers. She makes a face like
ewww.
Connor Sebastian takes a quick nibble, then puts his fork down.

Daisy folds her hands on the table.

“The flavors in this dish are amazing, Anjali,” she says. “But the rabbit is tough.”

This feels like a kick in the stomach. Daisy had liked me so much before.

“Yeah, it didn’t really gel with me,” says Sam Vitelli. “Nice presentation, though.”

“Little too spicy for me,” says Connor Sebastian.

I nod miserably and step back. Randolph comes forward. He’s made little dumplings with a meat filling he’s created. There’s a dipping sauce of rice wine vinegar and bacon bits.

“Very tasty,” Chef Daisy says, smiling at him. “You pulled this together in such a short time, too. Well done!”

Sam Vitelli agrees. “Tastes great!”

Connor says the dish is “cool.”

“Okay, folks, that’s a wrap!” Brenda calls out.

When I go to Mom and Deema, they’re both eager to hug me.

1/4 pound bacon, diced

1 small onion, chopped

1 green bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and cut into strips

1 small red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and cut into strips

1 Roma tomato, chopped

1/2 pound stew beef, cut into 1-inch cubes

1 tablespoon peanut butter

2 1/2 cups beef or chicken stock

1/4 Scotch bonnet pepper, minced, or more to taste

1 cup parboiled rice (such as Uncle Ben’s)

fresh chopped parsley for garnish

1. Heat a skillet and place the bacon in it. Fry for 5 minutes, then add the onion and the green and red bell peppers and chopped tomato. Sauté for 1 to 2 minutes, or until
the onion is soft. Add the beef cubes and toss well to coat. Lightly brown the beef on all sides. Mix well and fry for 5 minutes, stirring often.

2. Stir in the peanut butter and mix thoroughly. Add the stock and stir well. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 15 minutes.

3. Mix in the Scotch bonnet pepper and rice. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until the rice is thoroughly cooked and all the liquid is absorbed. The rice should not be sticky. Serve on a platter, garnished with the parsley.

Makes 4 servings

I scramble through my backpack to answer the phone, which is buried somewhere beneath all my books. As I see the bus heading down the street, I kneel on the ground to search more frantically.

The phone is on the sixth ring by the time I get to it. It’s a 212 number. I press the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I say breathlessly.

“Yes, hello, I’d like to speak with Anjali Krishnan,” a man’s voice says on the other end.

“This is Anjali.”

“Curtis Whitmore from the Food Network.” The voice comes through clearly but starts to break up.

The bus begins to roll toward me with its rumbling engine. My mouth goes dry with excitement. I walk quickly around the corner to a quieter part of the street.

“Hi,” I say, pacing nervously.

“Ms. Krishnan, I’m calling about your audition for the
Super Chef Kids
show.”

I have an uncontrollable urge to giggle. “Yes?” I say.

“Ms. Krishnan, everyone loved you. You did a great job.” I bounce on my feet to relieve some of my nervous excitement. What I really want to do is run and yell and laugh at the same time.

“But we’ve decided that one of the other candidates fits what we’re looking for a little better,” he says.

I stop moving and stand very still. I’m dizzy, disoriented, like when I’ve been swimming too long and finally step out of the pool. The world seems shaky. I can’t trust my own feet to take a sure step.

“What?”
I ask stupidly.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Krishnan. We’re going with one of the other candidates.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
They are actually calling to say no? Why didn’t they just send a letter?
“Oh?” is all I can manage.

He’s still talking, saying how much they enjoyed meeting me, but disappointment and anger have filled me up.

“Who won?” I blurt.

The voice on the other end of the phone is silent for a few beats.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling,” he says overly cheerfully. “We’d like all the finalists to be there for the reveal.”

I don’t answer.

“Then the final show will air on Labor Day so you can watch yourself,” he says quickly. “You’ll be getting a FedEx tomorrow or the next day with details about coming in. I’m calling to give you a heads-up. The reveal will likely be filmed at some point in the next few weeks.”

“Uh-huh,” I barely mumble.
Is he kidding?

“Okay, then, talk to you soon!” Curtis Whitmore chirps before disconnecting.

I stand there a few minutes after the call is over, only moving when a mother pushes past me with a double stroller. Two young boys ride by on their bikes, yelling back and forth and laughing.

I walk back to the bus stop. It starts to fill up. I bend over on the bench, rest my head in my hands, and sob.

I go straight to Linc’s house. His housekeeper, Marisol, greets me at the door.

“Anjali!
Hola!
Come in, come in!” I step inside.

“Linc is on the back patio.” She closes the door behind me. “Go on through.”

“Hey, Linc,” I say quietly.

“Anjali?” he says, sitting up abruptly. “What are you doing here?”

I try to get the words out but the only thing I can do is cry. Finally, I say, “Food Network called to tell me they picked someone else.”

“Wait, what?” Linc looks surprised. “Who’d they pick?”

“I don’t know. They want me to come back to film a reveal when they choose the winner!” I’m really crying hard. I wipe my face with the back of my hand.

“I’ve screwed up everything!” I wipe my eyes again. “No Stuyvesant, no Food Network show, no more culinary school. Nothing.”

Linc leans forward and grabs my shoulder. “Hey, hey, take it easy. It’s not so bad.”

He hands me a tissue.

“With you being so wrapped up in the TV stuff, I never got to tell you — I didn’t get in to Stuyvesant. At least we’ll be in school together next year.”

“So we’re both losers,” I say, trying to manage a smile.

Linc laughs.

“I’d been hoping to go to the local high school so I could do a C-CAP program,” I say. “I know, I know — crazy,” I blurt before Linc can say anything.

“Crazy Anjali,” Linc says. Then, “We may be losers, but we still got
pow
.”

That makes me laugh for real.

It’s twilight when I finally reach home. Mom is standing at the stove, stirring something. I can smell the sweetness of coconut, along with the warm spiciness of mixed essence and the salty, woodsy smell of rice all jumbled together. Rice pudding.

Mom turns as I come into the kitchen. There’s a frown creasing her eyebrows. “Where have you —” she begins but stops quickly. My face is puffy from crying.

“Anjali, honey, what’s wrong?”

I slump down in a kitchen chair and put my head in my hands.

“I didn’t win the Food Network tryout,” I say miserably. “They chose someone else. Now you can say you told me so.”

My mom turns off the pot of rice pudding and comes to sit by me. She strokes my hair. “Anjali, look at me.”

It feels like a million years since we’ve been alone together. I can’t remember the last time I saw Mom cook anything.

“I’m not going to say I told you so. You’ve shown me what it means to have passion, Anjali. Thank you for teaching me such a valuable lesson.”

“What about Dad?” I ask. “He’s going to get mad all over again.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom says. She puts both her arms around me. “He’s not mad anymore. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but he didn’t want you to get hurt, to be disappointed. He’s a proud man.”

Deema’s voice comes into the kitchen from where she stands at the doorway. “This whole family
is stubborn,
bayti.
But we love you. You make us so proud.

“I think we could all use a little sweetness right about now,” Deema says. She goes to Mom’s pot. “Who’s up for a taste?”

1 cup long-grain rice

1 1/2 cups water

1 1/2 cups coconut milk

1/2 cup sugar

pinch of cinnamon

pinch of nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon mixed essence

1/2 teaspoon Angostura bitters

2 tablespoons raisins (optional)

1 tablespoon sweetened coconut flakes for garnish (optional)

1. Place the rice in a large bowl and add enough water to cover the rice by 2 or 3 inches. Using your hand, swirl the rice around until the water becomes cloudy, then carefully pour the water off the rice.
Repeat this process 4 or 5 times or until the water runs clear.

2. Bring 1 1/2 cups of water to a boil and add the rice. Simmer for 15 minutes, skimming any foam from the top of the rice, as necessary.

3. Drain the rice and return it to the saucepan. Add the coconut milk, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Simmer for 10 minutes, then add the vanilla, mixed essence, bitters, and raisins if using. Simmer for 10 minutes more. The rice should be soft, and the pudding should be thick but not sticky, with some liquid.

4. Garnish with the coconut flakes and serve.

Makes 4 servings

2 parts understanding, sliced

1 part forgiveness

1/2 cup temperance

1 second chance

sprinkles of hope as garnish

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. Grease a large casserole dish and layer the understanding along the bottom. Dot with large spoonfuls of forgiveness and repeat until both are entirely used.

3. Pour the temperance over the casserole and season with the second chance.