Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby

Duck. Pork. A flaky pastry dough.

It should be easy. I’ve practiced it a hundred times, tasted it a thousand. It’s one

of my favorite French dishes to make, and yet, as the stage descends into

organized chaos…

I’m frozen.

My eyes are wide like a deer in headlights. The deafening roar of the crowd, the

sound of voices and cooking utensils, the movement of the cameras and the

announcer’s voice booming over the microphone—all of it is too much.

Enter title…

Suddenly, I feel as though I’m being transported back in time, back to a time

when I was much younger…

was my first year of culinary school, the end of my first semester.

were supposed to compete in a style not all that much unlike

minus the sky-high stakes and the television production of it

gathered around our stainless steel tables, dressed in our

as our professor—Chef Andrews—paced

us, announcing our

be preparing beef stroganoff. A simple dish

expect each and every one

been practicing all semester.

class launched into action, I felt my hands go clammy.

front of me, but my mind went

as beef stroganoff?

but at that moment,

my mind clean.

hard I tried, I couldn’t remember how

felt foreign,

taking on the

if they were born with a skillet in their hand. Then there

the guy who treated every class