Page 101 of The Alpha and the Baker
“Yes. A quarter is classic, a quarter with a churro-inspired filling, a quarter with a rhubarb-and-sweet cream filling, a quarter with a blueberry-lemon compote, and the final quarter is filled with a passionfruit and mango cream. They’re dyed accordingly so you can tell what’s what without biting in and getting a flavor that you don’t want.” She glanced to me asshe said the last part. “I wanted to combine different flavor influences that one might not expect together, because I believe the differences make the dish even better than it would be if it was entirely uniform.”
Huh.
“Well, isn’t that just exceptional!”
“You know what this means, right, young lady?” the male judge asked, his white eyebrows wiggling.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Felicia said, sounding just as mystified as I felt.
“It means that we’ll just have to take a bite of each flavor!” he said joyously before following it up with a big belly laugh. We joined in, although less enthusiastically than the other judges. Even the more stern one gave a fairly hearty chuckle.
“It is a sacrifice that we are willing to make,” she said in such a grave tone that it actually made me laugh harder.
“All right, let’s dig in.”
With that, they took four of the cream puffs off the impressive structure and shared a bite each. One thing was for certain, no matter which way the competition went, there would be plenty leftover for the crowd to enjoy.
“Fantastic!”
“Exceptional!”
“You’ve truly outdone yourself, Miss Nga. I have no doubt that your bakery will be very busy indeed after this.”
There was more praise, but after a while, it just sounded like rushing in my ears. We had done it. I knew there was such a thing as calling it too early, but it really felt like they couldn’t give such emphatic praise and not mean to give us the grand prize.
Which meant I didn’t have to worry about punishment from the fairies or any other ridiculous consequences from accidentally going to the public market on a day I shouldn’t have.
Granted, there was still one more team to judge.
The Ramirezes.
Their showstopper was also a thing of beauty, with three very puffy-looking confections that interlocked together on a stand that rotated, allowing them to make different arrangements.
“And what is this lovely conglomeration you have here?”
“This is a trio of pavlova.” Sal answered, and I had to wonder if he had baking experience or was just leading his team as a figurehead. “One is gingersnap with cranberries, one is a chocolate with sweet crema and raspberries, while the third is an apricot and pistachio pavlova with hints of ginger.”
Huh, that did sound pretty cool, but a quick glance to Felicia showed that she was still unruffled. That had to be a good sign.
“Ooooh, another entry where we truly feast! Guess we’ll have to take a bite of each flavor,” the male judge cooed.
“We really are martyrs for the cause,” the severe one added. Those two made quite the dynamic duo. Perhaps it would be fun to compete again. Not that it was wise to violate fairy rules a second time.
“But someone has to do it!” the third one said before they all bit in and gave their critiques, which of course, were positive.
And that was it. Suddenly, the entire thing was over, and they had to make their decision. It was down to us and the Ramirez pack. The croquembouche medley versus the pavlova trio.
“Attention, everyone! It’s time for the final judgment. So, if those with tasting tickets want to come up and eat these elaborate works of art, this is the time to stuff yourself silly. It looks like there’s going to be plenty for everybody.”
The process of handing things out took much longer even with so many people still standing at the competitor table since they didn’t have to rush back to the kitchenette for final prep. It was just as nerve-racking as I’d expected it to be, but I did try to be as patient as possible and gracious whenever anybody talked to me.
I was more than relieved when the last person headed off with their plate full of sweet treats. Now, all that was left to do was wait for the judges to finish their deliberations. They took much longer than the ten minutes they had before, or at least it felt that way. Why, though? Surely Felicia’s impressive structure was the obvious winner.
“It’s gonna be all right,” Felicia said after the third time I checked my watch.
“It’s been fifteen minutes.”
“That just means they’re taking it seriously.”
