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Authors: Ellie Alexander
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starting to wonder why all my fellow contestants seemed so unfazed by Chef Marco’s death.
Stephanie laughed. I shot her a look.
“Sorry, I know. But you think that they’ll look here?” Nina repeated.
“I’m sure they will.”
“Oh, oh well, yeah, that’s fine. I need to go get my things together at the Merry Windsor anyway. I’ll check back later.” She backed out of the kitchen and scooted to the front door.
“What’s with the hippie?” Stephanie asked, testing the firmness of the egg-white peaks with her finger.
“She wants Marco’s spot.”
“That’s cold.” Stephanie began folding the airy egg whites into her cake batter.
“I agree.” I watched Nina scurry across the plaza. “But she is stuck with Richard Lord so I can’t exactly blame her.” I grabbed an apron from a hook and wrapped it around my waist. I needed to bake.
I opted for one of my favorite fall cookies—I call them amaretto dreams. I discovered them while at port in a tiny bakeshop in London, and I craved them so much that I re-created the recipe. It took me a couple tries to perfect, but when I succeeded I felt quite proud of myself. Their flavor and texture is the perfect accompaniment for fall.
Stephanie and I worked in silence. I creamed together butter and sugar for the dough base while she poured cake batter into eight-inch round pans. After the butter and sugar had blended together in a creamy consistency I added eggs, almond extract, amaretto liqueur, and a tiny splash of anise. It smelled divine.
“What are you making?” Stephanie asked as she slid cake tins into the oven. “That smells really good.”
“Amaretto dreams.” I smiled, wishing this was some terrible dream that I could wake up from.
She picked up the bottle of anise and twisted it open. “Whoa.” She waved her hand in front of her nose. “That’s wicked.”
“I know.” I twisted the cap back on. “A little goes a long, long way with this.”
“Got it.” She watched as I chopped chunks of dark chocolate and sliced almonds. Her alternative look and aloof attitude sometimes made me forget she was just a kid. She leaned on her elbows as I stirred the chocolate and almonds into my dough. “Why aren’t you using the mixer for that?”
“I like the arm workout.” I flexed my arm with the wooden spoon in my hand. “When I’m incorporating chocolate and nuts like this into the dough I like to do it by hand, especially since I’m not making a huge batch. If we were in the middle of summer rush and going through a few dozen of these every hour it would be different.” I scooped a spoonful of dough and handed it to her. “See how the chocolate is really chunky? That’s what I want for this cookie. Sometimes the mixer chops it up too much.”
She studied the dough.
“Taste it.” I nudged her.
I smiled as she used her pinky finger to scoop a taste off the spoon. She was a quick study.
“It’s good. I like the flavor. It’s unusual.”
“Exactly. That’s what sets us apart here at Torte.”
The bell on the front door jingled and Elliot Cool breezed in. Stephanie handed back the spoon and brushed a strand of purple hair from her face. She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Do I have anything on my teeth?”
“You’re fine,” I assured her.
She pulled a cookie sheet from the rack. “I’ll help with these.” She tried to look intent on scooping perfectly round balls of dough onto the sheet, but she kept trying to catch Elliot’s eye.
If he noticed Stephanie in the back, he didn’t give anything away. He made a beeline to the booth where Linda sat nursing a cup of iced coffee. Sebastian had followed Nina out, leaving Linda alone.
I couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but Elliot didn’t look happy. Linda kept reaching out with her jeweled arms, trying to pacify him. He brushed her off and pointed his index finger at her.
She glanced around the room and leaned closer to him, like she was trying to say
Stephanie laughed. I shot her a look.
“Sorry, I know. But you think that they’ll look here?” Nina repeated.
“I’m sure they will.”
“Oh, oh well, yeah, that’s fine. I need to go get my things together at the Merry Windsor anyway. I’ll check back later.” She backed out of the kitchen and scooted to the front door.
“What’s with the hippie?” Stephanie asked, testing the firmness of the egg-white peaks with her finger.
“She wants Marco’s spot.”
“That’s cold.” Stephanie began folding the airy egg whites into her cake batter.
“I agree.” I watched Nina scurry across the plaza. “But she is stuck with Richard Lord so I can’t exactly blame her.” I grabbed an apron from a hook and wrapped it around my waist. I needed to bake.
I opted for one of my favorite fall cookies—I call them amaretto dreams. I discovered them while at port in a tiny bakeshop in London, and I craved them so much that I re-created the recipe. It took me a couple tries to perfect, but when I succeeded I felt quite proud of myself. Their flavor and texture is the perfect accompaniment for fall.
Stephanie and I worked in silence. I creamed together butter and sugar for the dough base while she poured cake batter into eight-inch round pans. After the butter and sugar had blended together in a creamy consistency I added eggs, almond extract, amaretto liqueur, and a tiny splash of anise. It smelled divine.
“What are you making?” Stephanie asked as she slid cake tins into the oven. “That smells really good.”
“Amaretto dreams.” I smiled, wishing this was some terrible dream that I could wake up from.
She picked up the bottle of anise and twisted it open. “Whoa.” She waved her hand in front of her nose. “That’s wicked.”
“I know.” I twisted the cap back on. “A little goes a long, long way with this.”
“Got it.” She watched as I chopped chunks of dark chocolate and sliced almonds. Her alternative look and aloof attitude sometimes made me forget she was just a kid. She leaned on her elbows as I stirred the chocolate and almonds into my dough. “Why aren’t you using the mixer for that?”
“I like the arm workout.” I flexed my arm with the wooden spoon in my hand. “When I’m incorporating chocolate and nuts like this into the dough I like to do it by hand, especially since I’m not making a huge batch. If we were in the middle of summer rush and going through a few dozen of these every hour it would be different.” I scooped a spoonful of dough and handed it to her. “See how the chocolate is really chunky? That’s what I want for this cookie. Sometimes the mixer chops it up too much.”
She studied the dough.
“Taste it.” I nudged her.
I smiled as she used her pinky finger to scoop a taste off the spoon. She was a quick study.
“It’s good. I like the flavor. It’s unusual.”
“Exactly. That’s what sets us apart here at Torte.”
The bell on the front door jingled and Elliot Cool breezed in. Stephanie handed back the spoon and brushed a strand of purple hair from her face. She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Do I have anything on my teeth?”
“You’re fine,” I assured her.
She pulled a cookie sheet from the rack. “I’ll help with these.” She tried to look intent on scooping perfectly round balls of dough onto the sheet, but she kept trying to catch Elliot’s eye.
If he noticed Stephanie in the back, he didn’t give anything away. He made a beeline to the booth where Linda sat nursing a cup of iced coffee. Sebastian had followed Nina out, leaving Linda alone.
I couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but Elliot didn’t look happy. Linda kept reaching out with her jeweled arms, trying to pacify him. He brushed her off and pointed his index finger at her.
She glanced around the room and leaned closer to him, like she was trying to say
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