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…

first year of culinary school, the end of my

compete in a style not

sky-high stakes and the television production

around our stainless steel tables, dressed in our

chef’s uniforms, as our professor—Chef Andrews—paced back and

us, announcing our task for

“you will be preparing beef stroganoff. A simple

detail. I expect each and every one of

we have been practicing all

into action, I felt my hands go clammy. I

in front of me, but my mind went

something as basic as beef stroganoff? I had

that moment, it felt as

my mind clean.

matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember how to get

in front of me felt foreign, and I

be taking on the task just

they were born with a skillet in their hand.

guy who treated every class like a personal