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She dumped the halved pecans into a plastic bag and pressed the air out of it before sealing it.
“Here you go,” she told Grath, lying the bag flat on the table in front of him and handing him the wooden object she’d called a “rolling pin.” “Start rolling that over the nuts to break them down.” She looked uncertain. “I just hope you can grind them fine enough.”
“Leave it to me,” Grath told her. Bending over the table, he began grinding with all his might, pulverizing the brown nuts to a fine, white meal in no time.
As he worked, Madeline got back to making the dough, whipping the butter and sugar together in the mixer until it was light and fluffy. She added a dash of something called “banilla” which smelled extremely sweet and fragrant and then reached for a bowl and some measuring cups.
“All right,” he heard her mutter. “Now for the dry ingredients…” She scooped out some flour from a large white paper bag and dumped it into the bowl. Then she reached for something else…but frowned when her seeking hand didn’t find it. “Hey! Where’s my powdered sugar?” she demanded.
“Is somethingelsemissing?” Grath paused his grinding to ask, frowning.
“My powdered sugar!” Madeline threw up her hands. “Ican’tmake my pecan sandy snowballs without my powdered sugar—I need it for the doughandto roll the cookies in afterwards!”
Just then one of the judges—the one that Madeline had told him used to be her teacher—came by their table.
“Excuse me—just coming around to check on everyone,” she said briskly. “Half an hour has elapsed and you have one hour left. Is everything here all right Ms. Porter?”
“No, it isnotall right,” Grath growled, before Madeline could say anything. “Both the processor of food and the sugar that is powdered to a fine white dust have gone missing from Madeline’s table.”
The stern female judge frowned at him.
“Excuse me—what?”she asked.
“My food processor and my powdered sugar—they were both here and now they’re gone,” Madeline explained. “I don’t care about the food processor—I’ve got that handled.” She nodded at the bag full of nut meal which Grath had ground. “But Ican’tdo without my powdered sugar!”
“Maybe I could go and buy another bag of it,” Grath suggested. “Are there any stores that sell it nearby?”
The judge’s frown deepened.
“I’m sorry but I’m afraid the rules clearly state you must bring all your own ingredientsbeforethe Bake-off. I can’t let you go running off to get new ingredients—you’ll have to make do with what you have.”
“But Mrs. Kranst—” Madeline began.
“No ifs, ands, or buts, Ms. Porter—the rules are the rules,” the judge said crisply. “And I would think you remember from taking my class so many years ago that I donotallow the cutting of corners or the bending of rules. Now excuse me, I need to check on the other contestants.”
And she walked away, her high heeled shoes clicking briskly on the wooden floor.
Madeline sagged with disappointment.
“Well, there goesthat,” she said. “There’s no way I can make these cookies without powdered sugar—it’s practically the main ingredient!”
“Excuse me…” The female from table eight, came over, a hesitant look on her face. “Excuse me,” she said again. “I happen to have a whole lot of extra powdered sugar, if you’d like to borrow some.”
“Thanks,” Madeline said. “But I’m afraid I need alotof it. Besides, isn’t it against the rules to use other people’s ingredients?”
“It’s against the rules tostealother people’s ingredients,” the girl said, shooting a look at Amanda, who was still innocently working on her own dough. She had added coloring to some of it and was cutting it into patterns and shapes with some sharp metal frames, Grath saw. “But it’s not against the rules toborrowsome if the ingredient is offered freely—like I’m offering it to you,” she added, smiling at Madeline.
“Well…but I need somuchof it.” Madeline still sounded doubtful. “I don’t want you to mess upyourrecipe.”
“Oh please—I’ve got a five-pound bag of the stuff and I only need a cup or two in order to make a glaze to drizzle over my almond orange shortbread,” the girl said.
“Well…if you’resure,”Madeline said. “It’s awfully nice of you.”
“Please—don’t mention it!” the girl said. “I’m Shonda Smith, by the way. I was a year behind you in school,” she added.
“You were?” Madeline frowned and then her face cleared. “Oh yes—I remember! You were in the choir, right?”
“Andyouwere in the band,” Shonda said, smiling delightedly, as she dipped out some of the fine white powdered sugar for herself and handed the rest of the bag to Madeline.
