Karl

The sizzle of sauteing farro mafaldine fills the air as Abby and I maneuver

around our station like we’ve done this a million times before. I can sense a

newfound glimmer in Abby’s eyes, a hint of something confident and downright

mesmerizing.

“Ken,” Abby’s voice cuts sharply through the noise, using the pseudonym that I

chose earlier today like it’s second nature to her despite the pressure, “start on

the mushrooms. I’ll handle the mafaldine and get the sauce going.”

“On it,” I reply, grabbing a skillet. I drizzle the olive oil into the pan just as I’ve

watched Anton and John do all along, having taken their motions and saved

Enter title…

them in a little recess in the back of my mind, like a sponge soaking up

knowledge.

beat, her hands

dough and begins feeding it through the

a quick, conspiratorial glance that says we’ve got

as we don’t have

golden, Ken,”

perfect.”

the flame.

crackles across our station. “‘Chef,’” she says.

me that.”

over the mafaldine, her attention back on the

truffles soon,” she says. “Can you

I say, although the mushrooms

the nutty aroma

scent of the saffron.

and take a

on the towel that’s slung over my shoulder. “I’ll grab the

make my way to the pantry, I can’t help but feel the

is bound to win this, I’m sure of it. The

a bust, but lady luck is on our side

pantry swings open,

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