Accepted under the mentorship of your idol and the world's hottest chef Gordon Ramsay, you must prove your skill and determination through competing in Hell's Kitchen- A month long cooking contest versus fifteen other fierce contestants and difficul...
Cleaning the kitchen is something the red team is getting familiar with. It takes us a lot less time to get it spick-n-span, which means we made plenty of time for us to sit around peeling potatoes all day.
A horn blares from outside as the men are passing by us in the kitchen, headed to their reward.
"Have a great day ladies!" Dave snickers as he walks past. "Sure am glad I'm not with you guys!"
"We're glad you're not with us too!" Gina retorts as we follow the men outside.
The men have the sleek Hell's Kitchen limo waiting outside for them. A large transport truck is waiting for us, the rear end of it turned towards the door.
Gail signs off for our potatoes before Cindy flings open the back end of the truck.
Almost comically, a pile of potatoes topple from the top of the truck's stack, raining down on Cindy's head. She covers her head with her hands and runs away from the truck, potatoes rolling after her like they are putting up a chase.
We can hear the blue team's raucous laughter as their limo pulls away. Groaning, I bend down to pick up the potatoes that have rolled under the truck. Today is going to be a long day.
After moving what felt like thousands of potatoes, we sit on chairs in a circle and get to work on washing and peeling them. Taylor sits to my left while Gina sits to my right. There is a basin of water for rinsing the potatoes in the middle of all of us.
After a few minutes of silence, Taylor is the first to speak.
"Hey guys, you know maybe one or both Gail and I should have been in the kitchen for this challenge." She brushes her hair out of her face with the back of her hand that is holding a potato. "Gina and Cindy both struggled today. That's not the first time we've seen Cindy have an issue."
Cindy glares daggers at Taylor, roughly peeling a potato as if she wishes it were Taylor she was skinning.
"Yeah well, speak up louder next time and you might not get pushed to the side. Ramsay likes people who stand up for themselves, and getting shoved out of a challenge ain't doing you any favors."
Bella daintily handles a potato before peeling slowly and retorting, "Yeah, Cindy should have for sure sat out. But Cindy and Gina weren't the only people to fail." Bella turns the potato and continues, "Gordon might not have seen (Y/N) burn her pancake, but I sure did. Just because she didn't get yelled at doesn't mean she gets a free pass. We probably would have won if we didn't have to slow down for her to fix her mistake."
Gail nods, "I may not have been cooking but I did see (Y/N) burn that pancake. Next time we have to have someone sit out, we need to consider Cindy and (Y/N) as our biggest issues."
Taylor looks indignant. "(Y/N) burned one pancake, I'm sure you've burnt plenty of things during service. It was only today that burning one pancake brought us down, but that wasn't even the only bad thing that happened. That doesn't make her the 'biggest issue'."
Silently I try to convey my thanks to Taylor through an appreciative glance. She pats my leg with her hand that is holding a potato peeler, being careful not to nick my chef's pants in the process.
After that conversation, none of us really want to talk. We complete peeling the potatoes in relative silence.
With the potatoes finally done, we head to the kitchens to begin prep. After a few hours, the blue team returns. They file past us in the kitchen, chatting about how much fun they had and how great the magicians were. I try to close their chatter out, I don't want to hear about how fantastic of a time they had while we spent our time cleaning, arguing and hauling potatoes.
Eventually, Chef Ramsay approaches the kitchens. I smile at him, thankful for having some sort of light to brighten this dismal day. He makes eye contact with me and I can feel he is aching to tell me something. I wipe my hands on a dishcloth then pretend like I am taking the cloth to the front to clean the pass before service. Once I get there, however, Ramsay ever so slightly shakes his head and indicates the microphone on his jacket tactfully. The look in his eyes is killing me, I want so badly to ask him what he wants to say, but keep my mouth clamped shut as he had silently requested.
After another few minutes, the blue team descends the dorm stairs and line up in the kitchens. The red team does the same, while Ramsay watches us all.
"Good afternoon everyone, I hope the blue team enjoyed themselves and I also hope the red team has some energy left to finish this next dinner service, yeah?" He looks to us.
"Yes, Chef," we respond, our tiredness evident in our unenthusiastic response.
"What?" He squints and cups his hand to his ear.
"Yes, Chef!" we shout, trying to liven up.
"Good. We have a full dining room tonight and everyone must do their very best, as tonight is elimination night. One of you WILL be headed home," his gaze sweeps the room, "and I already have an idea of who needs to go, honestly, so please prove me wrong."
Gordon then turns to the front of Hell's Kitchen.
"My Belgian friend, will you do the honors?"
Jean-Philippe nods before opening the doors to Hell's Kitchen for our fourth dinner service of the season.
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