Hell's Smitten (Gordon Ramsay x Reader)

Chapter 2- Signature Dishes Part 1/2

Monday, June 24th, 2013

When the limo finally comes to a stop, we all get out quickly. Excitement tinges the air as we gaze up at the intimidating trident surrounded by letters spelling out "HK" in front of the imposing steel square of the sound stage. I recall the maze of counters and the equipment that contestants battle with on the show. I shudder with excitement, knowing the same battlefield awaits me within these iron walls.

Seeing the building I'd only ever visited in my dreams before me is an adrenaline shot to the heart. My fingertips tingle and my heart pounds like I'd sprinted the whole way here.

Some of us, including myself, take the stairs two at a time in eagerness to make it to the kitchen and begin our dishes. The LCD TVs that line the red hallways of Hell's Kitchen's entrance display time clocks, counting down from 45:00.

I am among the first to make it to the red kitchen. I head to the cold storage room in the back and begin gathering ingredients for my signature dish. I recall the things that Ramsay enjoyed eating from previous contestants of earlier seasons and think about my strengths and weaknesses. I'd considered my signature dish a thousand times over, but one particular dish stands out in my mind– pan-seared scallops with a white wine tarragon sauce topped with finely chopped bits of bacon.

An older black gentleman meets me at the back of the fridge and gives a small smile as we both take enough scallops for our dishes. I fervently wish that he isn't able to make a better dish that I can... and hope that I don't over or under-cook the scallops, as I know that will make or break a first impression with Chef Ramsay's high standards.

Forty-five minutes flies by quicker than the blink of an eye. My scallops look perfectly cooked as I meticulously babysit them on the pan. Carefully, I lay them out in a pleasing pattern on the plate, drop the perfect amount of white wine tarragon sauce on and then sprinkle the bright red bacon pieces over the top. I garnish the plate with a small curl of lemon peel and set it up under its silver domed serving platter right as the buzzer sounds to announce the end of our time.

My heart beats against my rib cage like a hummingbird's wings– frantic and quick. This isn't a dream anymore. In a few seconds, Gordon Ramsay will be walking out of his office to greet us. Soon enough, he will be tasting the food I'd prepared for him. It feels surreal. The other contestants and I line up, women at the front of the left red kitchen and men at the front of the right blue kitchen.

The doors to his office open and a spotlight follows as Chef Ramsay steps down the stairs agilely. Gordon looks more intimidating in person than he ever looked on TV. His sharp blue eyes show intense intelligence as he surveys his new chefs, standing tall and proud at the front of our lineup.

He opens his arms in greeting to us.

"Welcome! Good to see all your bright, shining smiles this afternoon. I hope your flights were lovely. Now, let's get to it, shall we?" he rubs his hands together eagerly.

"The winner of this competition will become the new executive chef at a restaurant I am opening up right next to my home in London, aptly named 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine'. Keep in mind, the red team is versus the blue team on this signature dish challenge. Starting from the outside, the red team presents first." He points to the first woman on the red team side and the first man on the blue team side and motions them forward.

Our red team contestant has brown hair in a bun, a sharp nose, and serious eyes. She walks as if strung along by a thread from the top of her head, and sets down her platter carefully, adjusting it so it is sat just so, before flourishing the lid open. At the same time, the blue team's contestant walks gaily to the front, carefree as anything, and places his platter down. I recognize him as the same young man who'd poured out the champagne for all of us earlier.