A little girl with a costume chef’s hat on. It’s a little too big for her head, causing

it to fall into her eyes. She pushes it up out of her face, shooting me a toothless

grin as she holds up a handmade sign that reads, in haphazard crayon…

“ABBY, U R MY HERO!”

Tears come to my eyes, but I blink them away. Suddenly, I’ve found my voice

again. I clear my throat, stand up straight, and start to speak.

“I want to say how grateful I am to stand here as a woman in a profession that

has long been dominated by men. And not just as a woman, but as someone

who believes in the power of diversity, of giving chances to those who are often

overlooked.”

Enter title…

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “But it’s not just about me,” I continue, “it’s

about all of us here. The incredible chefs who have come to compete, the staff

who make this show possible, and you—the audience, who make us want to be

better.”

eye, I see Daniel roll his eyes, his scowl deepening.

I contemplate going further, confronting his

but that won’t work here. It’s not right. It’s not

for all of the love,” I continue, “but please,

love to my opponents—no, not my opponents, but

the day, we’re all here for the

of cooking, to challenge ourselves, and

in

takes

my eyes sweeping across the faces of the audience,

Karl, who gives me an

takes home the prize today,” I add, “what truly matters is

as a community, cheering each other

real victory, and it’s one we can

still scowling at me,

important thing is that

too big for her head, her grin missing teeth,

I don’t win today,

announcer grins, taking the microphone back. “What a

there’s another round of

we’re all dying to know— who is your

today?”

dart to Karl, whose eyes glint in the

name ‘Ken,’” I say. “If you all don’t mind,

identity private for the duration of

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