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…

my first year of culinary school, the end of my

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

stakes and the television production

stainless steel

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

front of us, announcing our

will be preparing beef stroganoff. A simple

attention to detail. I expect each and

been practicing

action, I felt my hands go clammy. I was at

front of me,

could I forget something as basic as beef stroganoff?

before, but at that moment, it felt as

my mind clean.

couldn’t remember

of me felt foreign, and I

seemed to be taking on

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

guy who treated every