Head Over Heels

Part 1

Disgusting doesn't even begin to describe this sticky mess? Nicci Temple thought to herself as she pulled the wooden spoon out of her saucepan bringing with it a sticky substance that looked suspiciously like banana flavored taffy. Nicci was reasonably certain that banana taffy wasn't an ingredient commonly found in hollandaise sauce, but she had been trying for the past 45 minutes in vain to make her sauce look and taste like something that would be remotely appetizing. So she couldn't be 100% sure that she hadn't actually added taffy at some point. She had been desperate. Desperate to not fail again at making something that an alley cat wouldn't refuse, and desperate to avoid what she knew would be an unavoidable confrontation with her culinary instructor (who happened to be the highly sought-after and world renowned Chef Louis). But judging by the sympathetic looks on her classmates' faces, she knew that she was out of luck on both counts.

Nicci would have considered herself a confident and self-assured woman, but all feelings of self-worth would plummet down to her toes the minute she stepped foot in Chef Louis' kitchen. She was mature enough to realize that she couldn't put all of the blame on her instructor's pompous shoulder for her lower than low confidence. It didn't help that every dish she made was just too ... too everything, and at the same time not enough of something! The blackened stuffed chicken had been too black and overly stuffed with something that Nicci knew could only be used as pest control. The black bean soup had been too salty, and not enough beans. How that was possible she didn't know, beans just don't just up and disappear. Or do they? The biscuits for the sausage and gravy had been too hard. The spinach soufflé had been too flat, deflating the minute she took it out of the oven. The sausage for the sausage and gravy had been undercooked, and now she could add her hollandaise sauce to the list for being too sticky. And what they all had in common, were that none of them had been edible. Nicci's culinary embarrassments were only made worse by the chef's obnoxious and usually loud observations concerning her dishes.

Nicci looked into the saucepans of the classmates adjacent to her, and concluded that she was most definitely up shit's creek without a paddle in sight. She watched as portions of the sauce congealed into yellowish white blobs that were swimming in what could only be described as sludge. A sludge that at an alarmingly fast rate was becoming an odd shade of gray. Again she was confused how her dishes were becoming weapons for biological warfare. She squeezed her eyes shut and made a wish. When she opened them, the first thought that crossed her mind was that she had to be on the shit list of whatever genie granted wishes. The second thought was that cooking was not as relaxing as her therapist suggested. There were three facts to support this theory. 1. Chef Louis was standing right in front of her and 2. Chef Louis opened his mouth. 3. Her stomach was in a knot so tight she was sure that she wasn't going to be able to use the bathroom for a week.

Since she couldn't avoid a confrontation without creating more of a scene, Nicci stood there trying to think soothing thoughts and waited for what she knew would be a comment that would likely make her want to punch the celebrated chef in his face. Nicci supposed that she could just ask Chef Louis to taste the hollandaise sauce, but even she wasn't that cruel. She was positive that tasting the sauce would result in the chef's immediate death, and her swift incarceration.

What would possess you to take a cooking class? Couldn't we have done pottery instead? She asked herself these questions, while simultaneously ignoring her horrid teacher and trying to scrape the taffy back into the pan, but its death grip on the spoon made that task almost impossible. Because your therapist suggested it, her subconscious taunted, you court-appointed therapist, it corrected. Well, this is definitely not as relaxing as a deep tissue massage, Dr. Allison. But Nicci's motto was do as thy court-appointed therapist suggests. Unless of course you want to end up as the newest cast member of Orange is the New Black, the true life episodes. Which she did not.