Free Taste Test by Kelly Fiore Page A

Christian’s dish. He’s taken sea bass and roasted it with fennel and beets, then topped it with a microgreen salad.
    Ms. Svincek takes a bite and looks equally pleased.
    “Well, well, well. We have a contender here, folks.”
    Christian looks directly at me and winks. I want to slap that smug expression off his stupid, too-handsome face.
    “Nora Henderson.” Gloria Bouchon gives me a nod. “Can you tell us about your dish?”
    I take a deep breath. I try to forget about the cameras that are trained on my every move and the challengers waiting for me to screw up.
    “Well, my word was ‘insomnia.’ When I think of lack of sleep, I think of how to remedy it. For me, that’s caffeine.”
    I wave a hand over the platter.
    “I’ve prepared baby back ribs with a coffee-cocoa-cayenne dry rub and three-chili macaroni and cheese.”
    One of the director’s assistants moves forward and starts unceremoniously sawing apart the ribs.
    “Am I just supposed to … pick it up?” Madame Bouchon asks, sounding a little disgusted.
    “Um … yeah …” I feel a stab of panic—why did I think that these people in their nice clothes would want to gnaw on pig bones? I watch as each of them takes a bite. Then another. Chef Mason is the first to speak.
    “Strong aroma. Nice crust on the meat. Is this a recipe you’ve made before?”
    “It’s an adaptation of my dad’s dry rub. He owns a barbecue restaurant in North Carolina.”
    Somewhere in the arena, I hear a snort of laughter. I can feel my face redden.
    “Well, Ms. Henderson,” Chef Mason says, smiling, “you’ve certainly made good use of your time today.”
    “I agree.” Ms. Svincek nods. “Excellent flavor and texture, Nora. I would imagine that, as the competition progresses, you’ll be someone to watch.”
    They liked it.
    I’m someone to watch .
    I exhale slowly, a bubble of giddiness inflating in my chest. It only deflates when I remember what’s still to come.

    The Elimination Table is the viewers’ favorite segment of the show and the one the contestants dread most. We all have to sit on uncomfortable stools in front of a long stainless-steel table while each of the judges grills us on the techniques we used or choices we made. It’s grueling and nerve-racking, which is why it makes such good television. The show draws it out longer and longer every season; the competitors are hunched over in pain by the time they’re excused from the arena.
    “Now.” Chef Mason speaks first, his voice is deep and resonating. “This Elimination Table will be different than others you’ve seen in the past. In fact, it will change everything about this season from here on out.”
    My heart stutters a bit before picking up where it left off, a little harder and a little more quickly.
    I guess we should have expected something like this. Every first episode has a surprise, a change in the show that serves to shock the audience and trip up the competitors. Once, they brought in three alumni from Taste Test UK to compete against the new contestants. Another time, they had each competitor cook for a famous celebrity chef, who in turn chose the winners—and losers. I can only imagine what they’ve decided to do this time.
    I glance at Angela, who shrugs, then at Joy, who is examining her fingernails in the halogen lights. Against my better judgment, I look over at Christian, too; he’s staring straight ahead, his face blank.
    Like he has anything to worry about, anyway. I’m sure Daddy’s reputation will keep him in until the end.
    “As you already know,” Chef Mason continues, “an elimination challenge requires someone to be excused from the show. To be eighty-sixed, if you will.”
    Chef Mason’s face is serene, expressionless.
    “This time, however, we aren’t eliminating one contestant.”
    He takes a breath and time seems to stutter to a halt.
    “We’re eliminating four of you.”
    There’s a shifting in the air around me, as though everyone’s