Recipe for Love

CHAPTER Seven





AFTER A SOMEWHAT chilly five minutes’ silence, there was a banging on the door. ‘Come on, girls,’ said Mike. ‘Time to get on the bus.’

Certain that Cher had deliberately run down her laptop battery and hidden her mains lead, Zoe kept silent. She had no time or energy to waste on Cher. She had to get her head together. She snatched up a notebook and pencil and stuffed it in her bag. She not only had to think up a pudding using her wonderful cheese and honey, but a starter as well.

Cher locked the door behind them, an action that reminded Zoe she had to give Fenella the spare key back. She ran up the incline to the back door, threw the key on the table in the empty kitchen and joined the minibus, the last one to do so.

‘I saved a place for you,’ said Cher, all solicitude. ‘Poor old Zoe got locked out last night,’ she went on. ‘I passed out by mistake and she couldn’t wake me.’

Zoe was forced to take the seat next to Cher as there was nowhere else.

‘And so where did you sleep?’ she asked in Bambi-eyed innocence with just the hint of a calculating glint.

Zoe hadn’t had time to think of a credible story so she trimmed the truth. ‘I found somewhere in the main house.’

‘Oh!’ Cher sounded surprised. ‘I thought they couldn’t have contestants because of the renovations?’

‘I slept in a room that was still being decorated,’ she said. ‘Fen sorted me out.’

‘Oh! I heard Gideon telling someone he was sleeping in the new wedding suite that was being painted. Is there another room?’

‘Cher, if you don’t mind, I’ve really got to focus. As you know I haven’t been able to print off my recipes so I’ve got to do some thinking now.’

‘You haven’t got your recipes?’ said Becca, sounding completely horrified.

Zoe was more and more convinced that Becca would win. She was obsessive and the way she talked about cooking and food told Zoe that although she hadn’t seen the evidence of it herself yet, she must be a brilliant cook. If she was going to beat her she’d need help from the angels.

‘Yes, my laptop battery was completely run down and I couldn’t find my mains lead. Funny that.’

There was a shocked silence. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I do think you should have been a bit better organised,’ Becca said.

Zoe bit her lip. She’d just have to brazen it out. It wasn’t her fault her computer wasn’t working. And she was fairly sure it wasn’t an accident either. ‘You’re right, I should have had the recipes on paper as well as on the computer, but I hadn’t decided – I wanted to keep my options open.’

Becca nodded. ‘I brought half a ton of recipes with me. It probably seems like overkill.’

‘Nothing wrong with being prepared,’ said Alan. ‘I’ve learnt a lot of recipes by heart. It’s sort of a habit with me, learning lines.’ He smiled at Becca. ‘I was an actor in a previous incarnation.’

Becca nodded, smiling shyly.

‘Learn your recipes by heart?’ said Bill. ‘I couldn’t remember my own name if it wasn’t written on my vest.’

Everyone laughed but this banter just made Zoe even more worried about having to work with only her memory and her cooking skills to rely on.

At this point the minibus arrived at the field that, with the aid of very superior tents, had been turned into the competition kitchen. Zoe went to her allocated space with its own cooker, worktop and various kitchen gadgets, including knives. She, like many of the others, would have preferred to bring her own knives but the organisers had decided random people carrying knives wasn’t safe. She remembered Dwaine at the restaurant who’d somehow smuggled his in: they had a point.

‘OK, people!’ said Mike. ‘You know what you have to do. Three perfect courses using only the local ingredients you sourced yesterday. Other basic permitted ingredients are at your stations. You have three hours. The judges will wander between you and talk to you about your menus. Go!’ Zoe fell on her pad and wrote out her menu as planned. Pignatelli: choux pastry with cheese and bacon deep fried, as a starter. At least she knew how to make it. Pork fillet with a cream and local calvados sauce, salad leaves and sauté potatoes. Then her pen stopped. Pudding. What was she going to do for a pudding? If all else failed she could make a fool from the bottled bullaces and the cream, but that was hardly competition-standard food.

Aware she was wasting valuable time, she decided to focus on what she could do. She stared at the list. Her pork didn’t really require a recipe but although she’d made pignatelli hundreds of times she suddenly panicked that she wouldn’t remember how to make choux pastry. It would be easy to mess it up.

The judges came up to her while she was still writing, still undecided.

‘So, what are you up to?’ said Fred, the friendly television chef beloved by the nation.

‘I’m just trying to work out my recipes.’ Suddenly noticing the camera behind the judges, she added a smile at the last minute.

‘Don’t you have your recipes with you?’ Anna Fortune was easily the most scary of the three judges, although Zoe had to admit she rather admired her.

What was she to say? She was going to look like an idiot! On the other hand, if she told the truth at least she wouldn’t have to be duplicitous as well incompetent. ‘I had them on my laptop but when I went to print them off this morning I found that the battery was dead and my mains lead was missing.’ The smile this time was probably more of a grimace.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. ‘How did that happen?’

‘I don’t know.’ She didn’t, for certain. She only suspected Cher. ‘Of course I would have done all this last night, after I’d bought my ingredients and planned my menu, but I was locked out of my accommodation and so couldn’t.’ She didn’t bother to smile this time. She didn’t trust herself to look at Gideon.

‘Well, what are you going to do?’ asked Anna Fortune.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said hurriedly, realising whatever she said she’d either look unprofessional or a snitch. She sought an unhappy compromise. ‘I have a very good memory.’ This was telly, she’d have to wing it.

‘So, what is your menu?’ asked Fred. ‘Or what would it have been?’

She smiled at him. He was very reassuring, like a teddy bear, cuddly and uncritical. ‘I was going to do something called pignatelli, which means pine cones. It’s a retro seventies sort of starter I haven’t seen except in my mother’s house.’ She smiled.

‘It sounds ideal!’

‘I should be able to remember how to make it.’ She tried to keep the doubt out of her voice.

‘Ah,’ said Fred. He went on quickly, as if to get over a sticky bit. ‘What about your pudding?’

‘I haven’t decided.’ She tried to look as if this wasn’t a problem at all.

Anna Fortune frowned. ‘Well, you’re going to have to make some decisions quickly. You haven’t unlimited time. Chefs who are always behind time are a pain as well as being totally unprofessional.’

She had a clear and carrying voice and Zoe could see Cher listening to Zoe’s telling off with a satisfied smirk.

‘I’ll be on time,’ said Zoe with a confidence she didn’t feel.

‘I hope so.’

Anna Fortune and Fred moved on but Gideon stayed behind.

‘Did you leave your laptop on all night, not plugged into the mains?’ he asked, frowning.

‘No. Of course not. It was like that when I finally got into my room.’

‘Ah.’ He paused. ‘So what are you going to do? You have some wonderful ingredients, pancetta, cheese, eggs …’

Just hearing him say those words sent her back to the previous night when he had read to her to make her sleep. She shivered. ‘Soufflé! I’ll make a soufflé!’ she said as inspiration suddenly struck.

‘But you’ll never do that without a recipe.’ He spoke definitively.

She smiled sincerely for the first time in ages. ‘Yes I will. It’s not as unusual as my original idea but I’ve made them far more often. If it comes off …’

‘A very high-risk strategy, if I may say,’ said Gideon who, Zoe felt, would have said something quite different if the cameras hadn’t been around. ‘And what about your pudding?’

‘Haven’t thought of what to do yet. I have such wonderful things to cook with, something is bound to come to me!’ Aware of the cameras she smiled brightly. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must get on.’

Feeling slightly less pressured when the judges and the cameras moved away, Zoe went through the ingredients that were waiting for them. Puff pastry! There was puff pastry, ready rolled and easy to use. Her pudding problem was solved! And she could get it done straight away.



Although she’d sounded confident when she was talking to Gideon the thought of making a soufflé without a recipe was terrifying. All her other dishes had gone well. The cream sauce had to be finished and her pudding, using the blessed puff pastry, looked amazing. She had whipped and flavoured some cream to go with it. It needed glazing with a blow torch just before serving but otherwise it was done. There was only the soufflé to do now.

She prepared the dishes carefully, brushing the butter in vertical lines up the sides. Then she lined them with very fine toasted breadcrumbs, grateful that bread was one of the permitted basic ingredients. Finally she grated her cheese and fried her pancetta before chopping it finely. She’d never made a cheese and bacon soufflé before and she was not at all sure that Elizabeth David, credited with teaching the British how to cook, would approve, but she’d sourced the pancetta, she was determined to use it.

At last, she set the timer and cleared her work station, silently praying that the right things were going on in the oven. She was aware of the others bustling about at their stations, although she resolutely avoided looking over at Cher. She was sure to have created perfection and be smiling sweetly at a passing camera by now.

Zoe inspected her pudding. It was she felt, extremely appealing. She had made three circles of puff pastry with a hollow in the middle. Into these she’d put slices of the Brie-type cheese. Then she’d added a spoonful of what she thought of as ‘Uncle Jim’s honey’. On top of everything there were three bullaces. They looked delightful, three golden globes like paler, miniature apricots. She had dusted the tarts with icing sugar and glazed them so they looked extremely appetising. She was pleased with herself. She just wished she hadn’t had to think on her feet. (Thankfully, she was quite good at it.)

‘Please come to me first,’ she prayed, and then looked through the glass door of the oven. ‘Or better, second.’ The soufflés had risen but not quite enough for Zoe. They looked as if they could go a bit higher.

Gideon came up and peered into her oven through the door. Obviously feeling the same he said, ‘OK. I’ll just have a word.’

Cher, whose beautifully garnished chicken liver pâté had already been filmed, was looking across to Zoe, her mouth compressed with anger and her eyes flashing. ‘He’s giving you special treatment! It’s outrageous!’

Gideon, who was passing her bench with the other judges said, ‘We hope to be fair to all contestants, Cher. Zoe had an unfortunate accident and she had to work without recipes.’ He glared at her in a way that made Zoe hope she would never be at the other end of such a look. ‘To be truly fair, we’d have made you all work without them.’

Cher blushed and pouted and didn’t say any more.

Under the steely eyes of the judges, Zoe retrieved her soufflés, certain she’d drop them on the floor even if they didn’t drop by themselves.

‘Well, they look delicious,’ said Anna Fortune, sounding a little surprised. ‘What are they?’

‘Cheese and pancetta,’ said Zoe.

Anna picked up a fork and made her way into the puffy goldenness before her. ‘Mm! And so far no one else has had pancetta. Where did you source that?’

Zoe produced the leaflet from the farm showing its address. Anna Fortune looked at it. ‘It doesn’t mention pancetta.’

‘It does cider apples and pork. Also Calvados, bacon and sausages. The pancetta was an experiment. I was lucky to get some.’

‘OK, let’s move on to your main course …’

Fred forked up most of a soufflé. ‘There’s no point in leaving it hanging around,’ he said. ‘It’ll have sunk completely before the camera crew have a chance.’ The camera crew, who were moving in for a close-up, muttered.

Gideon tasted the remaining soufflé and grunted.

‘Very nice pork,’ said Anna. ‘You can taste the pigs were reared on apples. Sauce is fine, hasn’t split. Now your pudding …’

Zoe produced her tarts.

‘They certainly look very pretty,’ said Anna, going in with her fork. ‘What are they?’

Zoe didn’t answer immediately. She wanted the flavour of the Brie, which would be unexpected, to reach Anna’s palette before she told her what was in it. Anna was nodding and Fred’s fork attacked another tart. Gideon went last.

‘I’m getting some sort of cheese, and then honey,’ he said. ‘What are the fruits? Plums?’

‘Bullaces. They’re a sort of wild plum. I’ve used bottled ones from the place that provided the honey and the cheese.’

‘An excellent combination,’ said Fred. ‘I like that very much.’

‘I think this recipe could be worked on a bit,’ said Anna, ‘but altogether not bad at all. You were the one working without recipes?’

Zoe nodded. Anna didn’t speak but Zoe thought her expression indicated approval.

‘Well done!’ said Gideon quietly, and then the judges moved on. It looked as if she wouldn’t be going out just yet!

At last Zoe was able to relax and she started cleaning her station. When she looked up she saw that Cher was being judged. She couldn’t hear exactly what was being said but the judges’ expressions told her they were pretty pleased with what she had offered them. Her good mood dipped somewhat; the thought of living with Cher for at least two more days was not a cheery prospect.

Zoe was able to text her mother ‘Still in!’

One of the lads went out: Daniel. He claimed, as they had a consoling drink in the pub afterwards, that he couldn’t be hemmed in by petty regulations and had he been able to cook what he wanted to cook (molluscs, mostly) he’d have been blinding. ‘I can’t be bothered with all that local and seasonal stuff. If I want asparagus in January, I’ll have it.’ He glared at the group, suspecting not all of them were on his side. ‘And if anyone mentions global warming or food miles I’ll f—’ He paused, possibly aware of Muriel, who wouldn’t hesitate to tell him off if he swore too badly. ‘—bloody punch them!’

‘So you did rather well, considering,’ said Cher to Zoe, sending her a smouldering look across the table. ‘I reckon Gideon likes you.’ She made a dismissive little sound. ‘Not sure why, unless there’s something you care to tell us.’

‘I don’t think any of the judges showed any signs of favouritism,’ said Becca, whose confidence had been boosted by some very nice compliments from the judges. ‘I think Zoe just did a really good job with her ingredients. I thought her pudding was lovely.’

‘Not that lovely,’ Cher persisted. ‘I happen to know something about her and Gideon the rest of you don’t!’

‘Please don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,’ said Zoe, feeling suddenly desperately tired.

‘Well, if you don’t want me to tell everyone where you slept last night, you’d better do it yourself!’ said Cher. She’d had a couple of glasses of wine and it seemed to have made her more aggressive than usual.

‘No one is remotely interested in where I slept last night!’ said Zoe. ‘Can you just leave the subject alone?’ Damn Cher, she obviously wasn’t going to give up lightly.

‘I think people will be interested if it affects your chances in the competition!’ Cher looked around, making sure everyone at the table was listening now. ‘So tell us!’

Zoe sighed, aware she had to say something.’ Because Miss Zonked-out here couldn’t be woken to let me in, I had to find somewhere in the main house to sleep. Which I did. Now why is that anybody’s business but mine?’

‘Why are you making such a fuss about this, Cher?’ asked Muriel. Zoe could have kissed her. ‘It sounds to me as if it’s a story that doesn’t put you in a good light.’

‘Never mind about me!’ said Cher, determined to finish what she’d started. ‘Make Zoe tell you!’

‘I really don’t see—’ Zoe began, frantically trying to think of something she could say that wasn’t too incriminating.

‘Did you, or did you not, sleep with Gideon Irving?’ Cher banged on the table for emphasis.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t be ridiculous, Cher. You could get a job standing in for Jeremy Kyle, you could,’ said Muriel. ‘Now can we move on? Anyone got a clue about the next challenge?’

Zoe, who did have a clue in that she knew a wedding was coming up, didn’t answer.

Muriel went on, ‘Well, let’s think what we’ve done so far. Teamwork in the restaurant …’

‘An individual challenge,’ said Becca, ‘which I preferred. I find relying on other people too nerve-racking.’ She glanced at Cher.

‘I like teamwork,’ said Alan. ‘In the theatre you have to rely on each other. I’m used to it.’

‘I still think Zoe should tell us where she slept last night,’ said Cher doggedly.

‘Oh, let go of the bone, Cher!’ said Alan. ‘She’s told us. The main house. Lucky her. It really doesn’t make a difference to any of us if it was the second-best bedroom or the bridal suite.’

Zoe felt herself blush because it had been the bridal suite. ‘It is a huge house. There are loads of bedrooms, although most seem to have the floorboards up or something. What I want to know is what the rest of you would do if you won the competition? I want to open a deli. What about you, Alan?’ She knew, of course, but she was desperate to change the subject.

‘Oh, definitely the gastro pub, somewhere lovely, where all my muckers from the old days would come,’ said Alan, suddenly dreamy. ‘I can see it now. I might even buy a few vines in France, produce my own wine and sell it in the restaurant.’

‘That sounds fun,’ said Muriel. ‘I just want a small restaurant in my own area where people can go out for a jolly good meal and not spend a fortune.’

Becca shuddered. ‘I love cooking but I do not want to run a restaurant – or even work in one.’

‘Why not?’ demanded Daniel, emerging from his pit of failure. ‘I love the buzz, the excitement—’

‘I hate being shouted at and from what I’ve seen, there’s a lot of shouting in restaurants,’ Becca explained.

Zoe nodded. ‘You’re dead right. I don’t think people work well under that sort of pressure.’

‘You’re both wusses!’ declared Shadrach. ‘I really get off on that stuff.’

Zoe and Becca exchanged glances.

‘What about you, Cher?’ asked Zoe, wanting to get back at her for her earlier harassment.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Cher. ‘I don’t need the money – it’s not all that much anyway. I’d just use it to help my career in some way.’

‘So how do you think you’re going to cope if you don’t like stress?’ demanded Daniel, looking at Becca.

Becca looked around for an answer.

‘Leave her alone, Daniel,’ said Zoe. ‘It’s nothing to do with you any more!’

‘That’s so unfair!’ said Cher. ‘You can’t pick on Daniel just because he’s not in the competition. He shouldn’t have gone out! You should!’ Cher’s eyes glittered with resentment.

‘Why should she have gone out, Cher?’ asked Muriel calmly.

‘Because …’ She glanced at Zoe, possibly assessing her chances of getting away with what she wanted to say. Zoe’s expression hardened. She went on: ‘Because she didn’t even cook from recipes!’

‘Oh come on,’ said Muriel. ‘I hardly ever cook from recipes. Zoe’s a good cook. She kept her place through being good, not through sleeping with one of the judges or whatever you were trying to imply earlier.’ She raised an eyebrow at Zoe. Zoe warmed to her even more.

‘You can believe what you want, Muriel. I know what I know!’ Cher flounced off to the loo and Zoe breathed a sigh of relief.

‘I’ll get another round in,’ said Alan.

‘Good idea. I could do with something to take my mind off that unpleasant little scene,’ said Muriel.

Zoe looked at her gratefully, glad of her support.

‘You did brilliantly, Zoe,’ said Becca. ‘No one thinks you shouldn’t still be here.’

But suddenly, Zoe wondered that herself. Should she? She pushed away the thought but accepted the top-up of wine that Alan was now offering. She glanced around the table and wondered if the kind words from Muriel and Becca and the silent backing of Shona actually reflected the expression in their faces. She was fairly sure they’d meant what they’d said about her cooking, but did they think she’d slept with Gideon?

She glanced at her watch. She wanted to go back to the cowshed, suddenly uncomfortable with the company. She liked the other contestants – well, most of them anyway. Usually she rather enjoyed their free-time chats (they’d all decided Anna Fortune was the one they had to watch) but tonight she just wanted to be alone to sort out her feelings.

Cher had returned from the Ladies when Mike came over and sat with them for a bit, nursing the last inch of a bottle of beer as he had to drive the bus back later.

‘So, are you all geared up for tomorrow’s challenge?’ he asked.

‘No! We don’t know what it is yet,’ said Cher. ‘They’re not telling us until tomorrow.’

‘Obviously I don’t want to spoil the surprise,’ said Mike. ‘But I’ll warn you, it’s a team effort and a tough one.’

‘Mikey, darling,’ said Cher, linking herself to him and stroking his forearm. ‘Do give us a little tiny hintette.’

‘Wellies,’ he said, enjoying the attention. ‘You’ll probably need wellies.’

They’d all been told to bring wellington boots without being told why.

‘Oh God!’ groaned Cher. ‘We’re going to have to cook in a f—’ She too glanced at Muriel and moderated her language. ‘—flipping field!’

‘That’s it!’ said Mike, finishing his drink. ‘Now time to go home unless you want to walk back.’

Zoe was first on the bus. On the short journey she found herself thinking not of the cooking over bonfires she’d done as a child but of Gideon. And she wished she’d had the courage to sleep with him properly. If she was going to get blamed for it, she might as well have had the pleasure. She fancied him so much and it would have been something to remember forever.



Zoe woke once during the night to shut her window, which was dripping on her. It had started to rain and she just had time to realise this would mean the field they were to cook in would be muddy before she drifted off to sleep and dreams of sexy food critics and Elizabeth David.