Two words appear:
DRAGON PEPPERS
CREAM
The crowd oohs. My stomach drops.
Dragon peppers. The legendary chilis that grow only in the volcanic soil of the southern mountains. They’re notorious for their heat and their habit of turning even experienced chefs into sobbing wrecks. And cream. The perfect counterpoint. The richness that cools the burn.
Fire and ice.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, doing calculations in my head. “We need a plan. Three dishes, two ingredients, one cohesive story.”
“Scallops,” Tovek says without hesitation. “Seared with dragon pepper, finished with a cream foam. Light, elegant, perfect for the first course.”
I nod, already seeing it. The combination of heat and cool. The contrast of textures. The way the cream would cut through the pepper’s burn. “Second course, noodles. Tossed with dragon pepper oil and a cream-based sauce. Simple but effective.”
“We need a third,” he says. His eyes move to the clock. Two hours to create, plate, and present three perfect dishes to a panel of notoriously tough judges. “Something that ties it all together.”
“Something with chocolate,” I say. The idea is taking shape as I speak. “A ganache, maybe. Dragon pepper for the heat, cream for the richness.” I meet his eyes. “It’s risky. Sweet, spicy, savory. It could be amazing or it could be a disaster.”
“I like our odds,” he says. “Let’s do it.”
We move fast. Tovek heads to the protein station for the scallops. I go to the pantry for the chocolate and aromatics. The competition floor is chaos. Twenty teams in various states of preparation. The air is thick with competing scents from a dozen different cuisines. I spot the troll chef watching us from across the room, deciding if we’re worth worrying about.
We are.
I grab what we need. High-quality chocolate. Fresh ginger. A vanilla bean that costs more than my first car. When I make it back to our station, Tovek is there. The scallops are arranged in a perfect line. His knife is moving through a dragon pepper with practiced precision.
“Careful with that,” I warn, setting my haul on the counter. “One seed could take out the entire competition.”
He nods. “I’m being gentle. They’re beautiful, though. Look at the color.”
He’s right. The dragon peppers are spectacular. Deep crimson with veins of vivid orange. Their skin is slightly translucent so you can see the seeds inside. They’re about the size of my thumb, with that curl at the bottom that gives them their name. I pick one up. I can feel the heat of it even through the skin.
“They’re from the southern range,” Tovek says, moving to the next task. “The volcanic soil gives them that complexity. Heat first, then this almost fruity note at the end.”
I stare at him. “How do you know that?”
He shrugs. There’s a pleased set to his shoulders. “I pay attention. You mentioned them once. Said they were your favorite, but you couldn’t get them fresh in the city.”
He remembered. He filed away the casual comment and remembered it months later when it mattered.
My throat gets tight.
“We need to move,” I say, reaching for the chocolate. “Two hours isn’t much for three courses.”
We work side by side. Our movements fall into the familiar rhythm we’ve developed over months in the kitchen. Tovek handles the scallops, searing them to perfect caramelization. The dragon pepper creates a crust that’s equal parts heat and sweetness. I work on the cream foam, whipping it to the consistency that will hold its shape but dissolve on the tongue. I add just a hint of vanilla to cut through the pepper’s burn.
“Try this,” he says, holding out a small piece of scallop on the tip of his knife. “Tell me if the heat’s right.”
I take it from him, careful not to touch his fingers despite the warmth that builds in my chest whenever we’re this close.
The scallop is perfect. Tender with just the right amount of chew. The dragon pepper provides a heat that builds rather than overwhelms. By the time I swallow, my lips are tingling and myeyes are slightly watery, but it’s the good kind of burn. The kind that makes you reach for another bite despite the pain.
“It’s perfect,” I say, reaching for the next ingredient. “The foam will cut the heat just enough. They’re going to love it.”
He nods and turns back to his station. “Two down, one to go.”
