‘Yes. I promise.’
‘Good.’
We walk together with the other teams over to the kitchen, which, inBake Offfashion, although in a much less picturesque way – it’s surrounded by large, concrete sheds – is housed in a giant tent.
A very jovial man called Fred tells us that his partner, Suzanne, is a bona fide Michelin-starred chef. Bugger. Although it really doesn’t matter as long as we don’tlose. I wouldliketo win, though.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re all at the right workbenches, we’ve all seen the ingredients that we have, and we’re all raring to go (or in Jake’s case leaning with elbows on the worktop, chin propped in hand, unenthusiasm personified) when Sonja raises her whistle.
‘Three, two, one!’ She blows, long and hard.
‘Ow.’ I shake my head to disperse the ringing in my ears. That was a very high decibel level.
I’ve been thinking fast and I know what I want us to make: a prawn and leek risotto, with a fennel, tomato and red onion salad to balance the creaminess.
I set Jake to chopping onions first. He begins with the first one by cutting it the opposite way to how most people do and then stares at it.
‘Shall I show you howIwould chop an onion?’ I suggest.
‘Can I not do it my way?’
‘Whatisyour way?’
‘I’m just working that out.’ He pulls his sleeve up and kind of twizzles his knife.
‘Okay, I’m going to show you how to do it.’
‘What, there’s an actual particular way to chop an onion?’
‘Of course?’ As I demonstrate, it’s clear that he’s paying about as much attention as I paid to the assault course and ice bath instructions.
When I’m done, he moves in front of the chopping board and… cuts the onion really slowly into big, uneven chunks, totally ignoring how I showed him to do it.
‘Okay, no.’ I take – seize, if I’m honest – the knife and set to work rescuing the onions. ‘Why don’t you wash some vegetables and clear up after me? And pass me things? And I’ll do all the chopping as fast as I can.’
‘Sounds like this is going to befun,’ he says with a sarcastic eyebrow raise before he begins wiping around the worktop.
He looks like he’s never held a cloth before.
‘This is not a moment for sarcasm,’ I tell him. ‘This is a moment to shut up and do what you’re told and make sure I don’t have to do a second ice bath in one day.’ I say it with a friendly, team-matey smile, because one of Sonja’s sidekicks is making her way towards us, notebook and pen at the ready to record her observations of our work. ‘Why don’t you wash those courgettes?’ I’m not planning to include the courgettes in therisotto but I need to keep him busy. And maybe I can get him to peel them into shavings and toss them with oil, garlic and lemon and have them as another side salad.Ormake little courgette dumplings with them, although maybe that would be too much heaviness for one meal.
‘Why? Are we actually using them?’
‘No questions; you have to demonstrate great teamwork,’ I hiss. With a smile, because in addition to the observer, the bloody TV cameras are here watching us, and I have no wish to look grumpy in public.
‘Team members are allowed to question each other,’ Jake says, far too loudly.
‘Shhh,’ I say, extremely smilingly.
‘Being an author must be a very solitary occupation,’ he says in musing (and still loud) tones. ‘Not a lot of teamwork practice.’
‘I’ve hadplentyof teamwork practice. I used to be a retail manager. I have regular work meetings now. I can work in a team. Just not with someone with literally no relevant skills and a poor attitude.’ I am still smiling.
‘Er I have agreatattitude. I’mverykindly helping you to try to win this so you don’t have another ice bath today.’ Jake’s still washing three courgettes, splashing far and wide as he does so.
‘Thank you. I’m extremely grateful. Don’t forget to dry the worktop and floor when you’ve finished washing those.’
‘I wouldneverforget such a thing.’
