“Will do.” I head for home, wondering about what my mom said. I’ve tried to take some of what Shawn has shared with me with a grain of salt since I found out that his Linda is my Lynne. It only seems fair since I’m giving him so much benefit of the doubt where her descriptions of him are concerned. Trying to hope that the years that have passed have allowed them both to become better people than when they knew each other. But if Lynne is really just trying to insulate herself? I don’t know what to do with that. The people who know you longest and best, those are the ones who are supposed to love you, warts and all. Aren’t we supposed to be able to just be ourselves and own our shit and still be okay?
I hate the feeling that is rising in me, and only for one reason. I see the same sorts of things in myself—the way I close myself off, the way I keep secrets, the way I keep people at arm’s length. The way I have kept my world purposefully small for all of these years, telling anyone who asks that I’m content, and actively avoiding any conversation that implies that content is not the same as happy. They always say that the things that make you most annoyed in other people are the things you hate most about yourself. I wonder if my frustration with Lynne is as much about what I think of me as it is about what I think of her.
? ? ?
Ian is across the room, talking to a very adorable little freckled girl in strawberry blond pigtails and sassy cat-eye glasses. They seem to be becoming fast friends. I’m shocked at the number of kids who are here. I knew that the America’s Junior SuperChef auditions would be a big deal—the show has become very successful very quickly—it just never occurred to me that there would be this many kids in Chicago who would qualify. The waiting room is packed to the gills.
“I think your son and my daughter are bonding,” says a slight redhead at my elbow.
I look up. “Not my son, but my . . . charge, I guess. Your daughter is adorable.”
“Thanks. She’s a terror, but she’s actually a good cook. So you are his nanny?”
I always hate to fess up to my position, especially since I don’t want Ian to be set up as the rich kid whose parents could afford to get him private cooking lessons, the kid who has some sort of unfair advantage. “More like an occasional babysitter, and guinea pig for his cooking.” I hate being evasive and dishonest, but I don’t know this woman, so I’m not going to give her more info than necessary.
“Ha! I feel you. Our whole family is on the tester team. Ever since she got the call about the auditions, Audrey’s been practicing. We’re all five pounds heavier and somewhat bilious.”
I laugh. “Sounds familiar. What is she doing for her signature dish?”
“Our family recipe for schnitzel with spaetzle and red cabbage with apples. My husband’s family is German, and her grandmother taught her last summer.” The producers said to do something personal, so that seems like a good choice. “How about your guy?”
“He’s doing an old family favorite as well. Meat loaf with mashed potatoes and green beans.” I leave it at that, neglecting to mention that his meat loaf features ground veal and pork and is wrapped in caul fat and basted with a homemade fig barbecue sauce, that the potatoes are more of a classic Joel Robuchon pommes puree of such buttery silkiness that you want to bathe in them, and that the green beans are blistered and charred in caramelized fish sauce with lime. Luckily, they were able to do a bunch of supervised prep when we arrived this morning, since he’ll have only forty-five minutes for the actual cook. I know that his meat loaf mix is seasoned and formed and wrapped in the caul fat and he’s done small individual-sized loaves so they will cook quickly. The barbecue sauce is made, as is the sauce for the beans. The potatoes are peeled and cubed and in a salted water bath, so everything should be pretty smooth sailing as long as he keeps to his plan.
“Sounds delicious. Hopefully they both make it through to the next round.”
“Why stop there? I hope they both make it all the way.”
“Cheers to that.”
The two kids come over, and we make introductions all around. The little girl is Audrey and her mom is Catherine. Audrey is in need of a bathroom break, so the two of them head out, and Ian sits next to me.
“How you doing, kiddo?”
“I got this. I know my stuff. I’m not nervous, is that weird?”
“Nope. That’s good. It means you’re comfortable. Just be yourself, do what you do.”
“That’s the plan! Audrey is so cool, it’s really nice to talk to another kid who has the food thing going on.”
“That’s great, Ian, she seems like a nice girl.”
“Everyone seems pretty nice. I think it would be so fun to be on the show with all these awesome foodie kids!”
“Well, just remember, they are casting all over the country.”
“Oh, I know. I’m just cooking for me.”
“That’s the spirit!”
A young woman in a headset with a clipboard comes over. “Ian Farber? You ready?”
“Yep,” he says. He starts to go with her and then stops and runs back to me, throwing his arms around my neck. “Thank you, Eloise. I’m gonna go do it for both of us. Love you.” Then he runs off, following the woman through the ominous doors at the back of the room. I smile and send up a prayer that this boy gets everything he deserves, everything he has worked so hard for, and then text Shelby and Brad that his first cook is underway and that I’ll keep them posted.
Forty-seven minutes later Ian comes busting through the doors waving a blue ticket in the air. “I made it through! I made it through to round two!” All the kids in the vicinity start screaming and jumping up and down and patting him on the back and giving him hugs. It’s about the cutest thing, how excited they all seem to be for him. Audrey grabs him in a huge bear hug and kisses him on the cheek.
“Good for him!” Catherine says.
“Look, it’s her turn, I’m sure she’ll do great too!”
Catherine gives Audrey a big double thumbs-up, and Ian whispers something in Audrey’s ear that makes her smile as they lead her away for her cook.
Ian comes to sit with me and tell me the whole story. How the producers were there and a camera with a live feed to the judges and people back in New York. How he explained that meat loaf night was the only meal the whole family ever agreed on, and always looked forward to, and that last year he wanted to make it for his parents for their anniversary, but it didn’t feel special enough so he figured out a way to take it up a notch and make it a little more elegant. Everything went well with the cooking, just like we had practiced, and he felt like it was just like breathing, like his hands knew what to do, and he had almost something of an out-of-body experience. He says he didn’t get at all flustered that they were asking him questions while he was cooking. They praised the cook and texture on the meat as perfect and said that the spicy sweetness on the sauce enhanced it without overwhelming it. He says they really liked how the tart salty green beans brought a lot of brightness to the plate, and helped enlighten the palate, and they told him that the potatoes were the best thing any of them had eaten all day.
“And then the phone rang, and it was the judges in New York, and they put them on speakerphone and they all said they remembered me from last year, and how much they loved my food, and how they think I’ve gotten so much more mature and poised and that they were very excited to welcome me back!”
“That is so cool, Ian, that they remembered you after all this time!”
“I know! Wait, look!” He turns back to the big doors, and Audrey is coming out looking dejected.