Page 6 of Baking Battles

It’s embarrassingly loud, the sigh of relief that escapes from Mattias’s mouth. But it is relief, having Alima here.

Someone else who doesn’t take this crap seriously. Someone who laughs out loud at the world instead of letting it cave in over them, like Mattias does. Because life is fine when Mattias is in his comfort zone, when he juggles numbers against flowcharts in his office, and slings well-meaning abuse at Danijel, politely ignoring most of the people he works with.

This though, standing in the hot lights in Studio 3, surrounded by mostly strangers, and strangers with an agenda, is making Mattias feel a little bit nauseous. He can do competition. He can, but this may be the one competition he just won’t win. He doesn’tunderstand the terminology being slung around the room by the other contestants. Well, contestants, as in a mix of random celebrities trying to get their shining star higher in the sky. Not that Mattias has anything to prove to anyone. Well, apart from maybe his own confidence and self-worth.

The thought makes him shiver nervously in the posh shoes the stylists have made him wear. Because the only person he has ever needed to impress, is Sara, and he’s honestly not sure he wants to impress her anymore. Her smile makes him sad. Her name lighting up his screen usually makes him shudder. And surrounded by a group of total strangers, Mattias sighs with irrational discomfort.The contestants have been formally introduced and group stills taken, and now everyone shuffles around nervously and smiles politely. Everyone playing a game Mattias doesn’t quite understand. A game he doesn’t think he actually cares about winning. Not that he’s fooling anyone, he’s an obvious filler contestant. The guy who gets shot in the opening scene. The unimportant face among the five or so important people here with something to fight for.

They have been filming filler segments all morning, and now the contestants are all lined up at their assigned work benches, and have been told to look stern and full of concentration whilst the camera pans dangerously low over their heads. Danijel calling out instructions to capture those shots that get edited and accented by pompous theme tunes to drill the viewer into a sense of serious competition. Like they don’t all know how fake this all is. The ingredients they are going to use already pre-planned, budgeted and purchased, against Mattias’s scrawled signature. Each episode will be carefully orchestrated, angled and negotiated, the social media team already down here taking notes and demanding candid stills in the correct formats.

Not that the woman next to him can stand still, patting her heels nervously against the wood-effect flooring. She’s some reality star, dressed just as inappropriately as Mattias, with her perfectly coiffed hair swept dangerously low over her obvious false eyelashes.

“Ida Sagnefjord, one of the originals on Frognerfruer. The reality show. We’re like the Norwegian version of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Have you seen it? Although nothing much is real on a TV show, but it does make for pretty spectacular rumours, don’t you think?” She had introduced herself earlier, giving Mattias a limp handshake and a nervous smile.

“Can you bake?” she whispers as Mattias shakes his head, letting himself smile back. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

Pablo has the bench behind Mattias, and in a strange way that is comforting, the man giving Mattias’s shoulder a firm grip of support as they move on to filming the individual introduction clips. He’s the type of person Mattias likes. Easy to read. Bold. Nothing hidden, with nothing to figure out. Pablo is who he is, and he makes Mattias laugh, despite the constant over-the top ridiculous statements and the fact that he keeps calling Mattias ‘Baby-Bi-Boy’. Over and over.

He survives his introduction, delivering his lines with resigned perfection. He’s Mattias. Financial expert from Morning TV, single father of one, and hoping to create festive Christmas treats for the smaller household. Whatever that is. He kind of rolls his eyes reading from the monitor in front of him on the first take, and perfects it complete with a fake smile on the second.

“I’m Paulina Sætermark, news anchor and mother of four. I am thrilled to share with you some of my favourite Christmas creations, and hope to showcase some healthy alternative Christmas treats for you and your family to enjoy. I believe natural sugars and fresh ingredients are key to a healthy and robust attitude to food. You can follow my Baking Battles Instagram profile, for all my recipes and top tips.”

The woman is perfection. Bright red lipstick and a charming motherly smile, neat cornrows pulled back into a perfect bun on top of her head.Fuck, Mattias thinks. He can’t compete with that.

“Siv-Linda Larsen, Politician and party leader for the Green Party. I will champion ways to save the planet, using minimal packaging and waste in preparing a Christmas that is both wallet friendly, vegan and wholesome. This is the time of year when we should think of our planet’s future, and celebrate in an alternative eco-friendly way. Thank you.”

He hadn’t noticed the woman in the back before, but her ideas are interesting. He may pay attention to her. A little. Maybe. If her voice doesn’t lull him to sleep. Good choice, Danijel.

“Alima Hussain, sports physician for The Norwegian National hockey team. I will try to bring something new to the Norwegian traditional Christmas, bringing influences fromMiddle Eastern cuisine and the Muslim community with all my recipes being halal, or vegetarian friendly. Norway is an amazing multicultural society and as a mother I am proud to show off some of my children’s favourite festive treats. I am also a busy working parent, so my recipes are simple, full of timesaving shortcuts. “

Alima flashes a rare smile, that makes Mattias giggle out loud. It’s so obviously fake and her eye roll off camera is so typically her. So very much Alima, and Mattias smiles, shooting off a supportive wink as she flashes her middle finger at him out of sight. Yeah, she may not be here to win, but she sure will give as good as she gets.

“Jacob Slagsvold.” A deep voice rumbles that makes the entire room straighten up in attention. “Documentary filmmaker and activist. I am also a secret foodie and bake my own bread at home. I am very interested in gathering food in the wild, and survivalist techniques, and hope to incorporate some of these interests in this competition. All the best of luck to my fellow contestants and I wish you a peaceful time this festive season.”

The man nods, and Mattias nods back. He’s watched all of Slagsvold’s shows, and he may just secretly be a little bit of a fan. The guy has survived for a week in the wild, bringing zero food rations. Zero. Oh well apart from a sachet of salt. And a knife. Apparently.

“Louise Berg. Sports journalist and five-time Olympic Javelin thrower. Yes, I know, I can see you all going, ‘What?’ Yeah, I chuck spears for a living, but damn, I am good at it. Can I say ‘Damn’ on TV?”

“Cut!” Danijel shouts, smiling supportively at Louise who just smiles and starts again. She’s a cool woman. Unbothered and cheerful even on the fifth take when she messes up her lines again. She promises recipes full of butter and cream ‘because she loves that shit’ and Danijel just nods in gratitude when she shouts ‘Cut!’ herself, and throws herself on the floor in despair. Mattias likes her already. She will go far, because she’s human. Genuine. Funny as fuck.

Then there is Mehmet Lysbakken, the footballer. Talking about muscle-building protein-fuelled raw food spicy balls, not even grasping the hidden innuendo that makes Pablo explode in an uncontrolled fit of giggles and snorts behind Mattias’s back.

“Magnus Steingrímsson. Drummer for the heavy metal band, Catastrophe. Catastrophe is liketheheavy metal band. We’ve just come back from another world tour and played like all the festivals this summer. Download, Øya, Roskilde, Hyde Park festival, Coachella, V… yeah. Like that.” He seems to zone out, tapping his fingers rhythmically, almost dreamlike, on the wooden worktop. “Oh, and Glasto. Glasto was a blast. I dunno if I’m any good at baking, but well, I can mix drinks. And I can cook. I think. I mean, I burn stuff, but well. Whatever. This will be a blast. Bring it on. And yeah, our new album is out now, so if metal is your thing, downloads are live now on all the usual platforms…”

“Cut!” Danijel shouts. Magnus makes a two-finger salute. With both hands. Sticking his tongue out and looking slightly deranged whilst doing a little dance for the camera. He’s wearing leather trousers and his hair is bleached almost white. Which makes Mattias sweat just looking at the dude. Seriously though, Mattias is going to have to have words, because not only does he kind of love Catastrophe, the band, but he is also secretly hoping for a photo. Not only because he is kind of fan-boying slightly, again, but because it will piss Sara off no end. She always loves when she gets pictures with celebrities, passing them off on social media as casual friends. Well, Magnus Steingrímsson is A-list, and Mattias hadn’t even clocked him on the list of contestants until today. Coolest dudeever.

It turns out to be a good day. An okay day, even though he ends up spending another two hours in his office catching up with his real job, dealing with Julian’s surprisingly well-organised number of post-it notes on his desk, alongside a very detailed email from Halvor in Accounting. He’s quite impressed with the young men’s efforts at filling in for him and ticks off his tasks with an efficient snap of his fingers as he shoots off the last email of the day. He powers down the desktop with a smile as he throws his jacket over the shirt he is back wearing, the clothes from the shoot safely back on their hangers downstairs, steam-ironed to perfection and tagged with his name on the green room rack.

“Danijel?” he knocks on the glass door not even waiting for a reply before pushing the door open.

“Shh.” Danijel mouths and points at the armchair in the corner that houses a slumped sleeping figure of a person.

“Just leaving. You okay?” Mattias half whispers, looking a little confused at the armchair, that is now moving with a pair of sleep-drunk eyes staring back at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just rewriting episode eight. We had a bit of a thing happen, and yeah, and I had this idea, and yeah you know.” Danijel waves a finger in the air, absentmindedly speaking to the man in the corner.

“Sorry dude, I’ll probably be another hour. I mean, I could give you my keys and you could get a taxi, but I won’t be home for a while. Not sure where my parents are, but yeah.”

“I’ll wait” The voice buried under a winter coat on the armchair replies. Sounding a little resigned. Tired.

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