King of the Kitchen (15 page)

“Hey, I never actually got to wash, so I’m going to do that,” Beck interrupted. He really didn’t want to hear about how Duncan planned to spend the rest of his night. He dropped his towel and stepped back into the shower. No reason to make this more awkward than it already was, right? Avoidance was always the answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow? We’re in the studio at one, but we’ll have a read-through of the script and a dry run, with switch-outs starting at nine.”

“Are you—”

Beck turned on the water, the rush drowning out whatever clichéd letdown Duncan had been about to use on him. Beck could handle being a one-night stand, but he couldn’t handle being fed some line like he was one of Duncan’s groupies.

Duncan’s inscrutable expression was the last thing Beck saw before he closed the shower curtain, cutting off his view into the locker room. It was cowardly, but it was better than watching Duncan walk away.

God, he was an idiot. He could only hope it didn’t make things strained between them on the show.

Chapter NINE

“THANKS FOR
tuning in to
King of the Kitchen
today! We’re going to be switching things up here for the next month. Our executive producer, Bob Starden, is here to tell you about it,” Beck said, smiling woodenly at the camera with the blinking light.

Duncan watched from offstage, waiting for his cue to go on. Something was off about Beck today. Maybe it was nerves about the new show format. He’d flubbed his lines more times than Duncan could count on the read-through earlier this morning, and he’d actually dropped a pan during rehearsal. He’d never seen Beck with anything but rock-steady hands before, so something must be up.

This was why he should never break his no-sleeping-with-colleagues rule. One night of sex wasn’t worth weeks of awkwardness. He chanced a glance over at Beck, who even managed to look gorgeous when he was flustered. And damn, the sex had been great. Maybe Duncan would be willing to do it again, which was mind-blowing since Duncan studiously avoided anything that even casually looked like a relationship.

Lindsay gave him a hard nudge, sending Duncan sprawling forward a few steps. He looked up, startled, when he realized Bob was motioning to him from the set. He must have zoned out for his entire introduction. Shit.

Duncan trotted forward, pulling at the front of his suit jacket. He’d skirted the letter of their agreement, wearing the suit but pairing it with a favorite T-shirt, both for comfort and to give him a bit more confidence. He was out of his element enough filming a television show—he damn well wasn’t going to do it without his security blanket.

Beck had taken one look at the shirt and scoffed, but Lindsay had appreciated it. Even Bob had laughed. Duncan had left his sports coat unfastened so the graphic was visible: a silhouette of a pig with the caption “Bacon is murder. Tasty, tasty murder.”

“Thanks for joining us, Duncan,” Bob said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Happy to be here,” Duncan answered, keeping his smile wide and easy. If he focused on Bob and Beck, he could almost forget the camera. “I’m excited to be working with Beck on
King of the Kitchen
since I’ve been a fan of the show for years.” He ignored Beck’s quiet snicker, the first sign of actual life from Beck he’d heard all day.

“That’s always good to hear,” Bob said after a beat when Beck didn’t respond. “So we’ve explained to the audience that you and Beck will be facing off each week, reinventing a classic dish. What we haven’t told them yet is they will be the ones voting on the winners—and that voting is going to aid some very special causes. You’ll be letting your checkbooks do the voting each week. Duncan?”

Duncan steeled himself with a deep breath and faced the camera. Lindsay and Campbell had stationed themselves on either side of it, and Duncan relaxed in relief. They were geniuses. He grinned at them. He had this.

“As Bob said, we’ll be competing to raise money for our charities. I’ve worked with Healthy U Foundation for years, and I’m proud to be representing them here today. They work with at-risk inner-city children from kindergarten through high school, helping them learn about making healthy food choices with partnerships in schools and some really fabulous summer camps, where kids get to learn how to not only prepare healthy foods, but also get to grow some of their own.”

“You’ve worked at a few of those camps, haven’t you, Duncan?” Bob asked.

They’d edit in a montage of photos of Duncan at various Healthy U events and camps after filming, so Duncan turned to Bob and answered him directly, knowing it didn’t matter if he was looking at the camera or not.

“I have, but only on the cooking side of things. Most people hear ‘microbiologist’ and think I’ll be good at growing things, but most of my experience with that involves petri dishes. Pretty much everything I know about gardening has come from sitting in on sessions at Healthy U. It’s a wonderful charity that has done so much good work here in the city. And the kids love learning about urban gardening. It’s amazing introducing kids to fresh vegetables and seeing how much they enjoy eating the things they’ve cooked.”

Bob slapped him on the back, using the motion to turn him back toward the camera gently. Duncan took the hint and looked up, smiling at Campbell and Lindsay again.

“I think most of our viewers are already familiar with the charity Beck is competing for. It’s something you’ve been active in for quite a while, and we’ve had segments on the show about it before,” Bob said.

“Yes, I’m competing for the Danowski Foundation’s Waste Not, Want Not program, which mobilizes area restaurants and grocery stores to donate their excess stock to food pantries and homeless kitchens around the city. It’s a big undertaking, because we have to ensure that food is handled properly. We have eight kitchens that serve hot meals twice a day, every day, around the city, and this year we’ve started a mobile food cart to bring cold meals like sandwiches to people on the streets who aren’t able to make it in to one of the kitchens. They’re doing great work, and I’m humbled to be a small part of it.”

Bob laughed. “I’d hardly call you a small part of it. For anyone who doesn’t know, Beck was one of the founders of the charity. He’s too modest for his own good.”

Duncan hadn’t realized that. How had he managed to get such a narrow view of who Beck was? Had he really let one run-in with him shape his entire opinion? Beck had an ego, that was for sure, but he really was a nice guy at the heart of things.

“I’m not doing anything special,” Beck said. “The people who really make Waste Not, Want Not thrive are the ones who are out there every day, coordinating food pick-ups at the wonderful restaurants and stores that participate, and the volunteers who cook, serve, and deliver the meals. They’re the ones who work tirelessly for the cause, and I’m so happy to be able to help them in any way possible.”

God, who knew modesty and charity could be hot? They were, though. On Beck, at least. Duncan wanted to climb him like a tree.

But they had food to cook, and that was almost as good.

“I’m going to let these two get to the meat of things—cooking today’s challenge!” Bob said, clapping his hands together. “You’ll have the opportunity to vote by making a donation to one of the charities at the end of the show. For now, we’ll let them get started.”

Bob patted both of them on the back and slipped out of the shot, leaving a big hole between the two of them. Beck gave him a slightly exasperated look and then stepped in, closing the distance. Oops. The script had called for Duncan to be the one to move. He needed to start paying better attention.

Beck pulled a plate out of the warmer, sitting it on the counter between them. The camera came forward, zooming in on it, and Duncan had to force himself not to take an instinctive step back. Filming television was hard.

“We’re taking on brussels sprouts today. They get a pretty bad rap, but when Duncan and I are done with them, I think you’ll see they’re a flavorful and nutritious addition to any dinner table.

“I’ll be going the more traditional route, slow roasting my brussels sprouts with grape tomatoes and finishing them with a balsamic reduction.” The camera panned over the ingredients a stagehand had set out moments before.

“And I’ll be bringing some chemistry into the kitchen and showing you how to make a bacon foam that will complement my crunchy smoked brussels sprouts perfectly,” Duncan said. He’d brought his smoke gun and his whipping siphon, and both had caused quite a stir in the prep kitchens. He held them up now. “These probably aren’t tools you’ll find in your home kitchen, but there are plenty of affordable models out there for the home cook. They look a little intimidating, but we’ll talk through the process today. You’ll find science in the kitchen can be fun and tasty.”

Both of their dishes took a long time to make, which was why Andre and the prep kitchen had supplied them with multiple switch-out dishes so they could show the cooking process to the audience as they went. Some of Duncan’s steps couldn’t be prepared in advance, though, like setting up the smoke gun and preparing the siphon to make the foam.

He was more than a little nervous about things not working as they should, but everything moved along seamlessly, aside from a minor spill when he and Beck collided.

“And that’s why you always call out ‘behind’ in a professional kitchen,” Duncan joked, brushing off the balsamic vinegar he’d spilled on his coat. “It’s also why no one but Beck wears these monkey suits while we’re cooking.”

He put his pot down and peeled off his sports jacket, handing it off to the stagehand, who darted forward to take it. Having all this off-screen help was nice. Kind of like what he’d imagined having Thing would be like when he’d watched
The Addams Family
as a kid.

“Ah, that’s better.”

Beck sighed and shook his head, but Duncan laughed it off. “My shirt is very topical, because now that we’ve deep fried our brussels sprouts and gotten them in our countertop smoker to soak up all that wonderful flavor, we’re going to start on the bacon foam.”

He angled toward the camera and let it pan over his shirt. “Pigs are delicious, folks. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad for eating bacon,” he said, wagging his finger at the camera.

Beck held his hands out placatingly. “I’m not judging the bacon. I love bacon. And there have even been recent studies that show bacon in moderation can be part of a healthy diet because it’s rich in niacin.
My
problem is with his shirt,” Beck said, making a face at the camera. “He’s got an endless supply of ridiculous culinary T-shirts. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a repeat.”

Duncan puffed his chest out. “Wear ’em loud, wear ’em proud,” he teased.

Beck sighed. “While he’s getting his beloved bacon chopped up and into that big stew pot, I’m going to be starting my balsamic reduction. Basically, that’s a fancy way of saying we’re going to take something and cook it down until it has lost enough moisture to thicken up. That concentrates the flavor and, in this case, gives it a texture that will help it coat our roasted brussels sprouts, making sure we get some of the sauce in every bite.”

Duncan didn’t actually have to chop more than one slice of the thick-cut bacon. He had an entire plate of perfectly cubed bacon in the small fridge under the counter, along with bowls of the chopped onions and the herbs he was going to use. The wonders of television.

The director pointed at Duncan, and he smiled at the camera. “So we’re going to cook this bacon for a good long time in some chicken stock so it renders all its fat and flavors the broth, which we’ll be using to make our foam.”

He looked up, startled, when he heard the sizzle of olive oil hitting a hot pan. Beck was at the range, getting the stockpot ready. “I figured I’d help out, since my glaze is reducing and my brussels sprouts are still in the oven,” Beck explained.

“As long as you don’t try to sabotage my foam,” Duncan said, arching an eyebrow dramatically.

“I’m not even sure how one would go about sabotaging a foam,” Beck said with a grin. “Got any tips?”

“Well, there are a lot of ways. Basically, we’re talking about an unstable foam here. This is going to start falling, or degrading, as we call it in a lab, as soon as we make it. A foam relies on a lot of air to give it height. And short of permanently setting that foam, there’s nothing we can do to stop it. So always make your foam right when you’re ready to serve it. I recommend you have your dish plated and ready, and then apply the foam at the dinner table for extra oomph. There’s that great wow factor when you’re using a siphon.”

“That’s the fancy whipped-cream container?” Beck asked, winking at the camera.

“You joke, but yes, it can be used to make whipped cream. It uses nitrous oxide to help make a foam, the same way canned whipped cream is made.”

Duncan tossed his bacon into the hot fat on the range, letting Beck be the one to watch that while he gathered his stock and the herbs he’d need. “So while Beck browns the bacon—which is an important step, and you shouldn’t skip it because it adds a complexity of flavor that we’ll definitely be able to taste, plus it helps render that fat—we’re going to get everything else ready. Once the bacon’s browned, we’ll add in the stock and some thyme and garlic, and we’ll let it simmer over low heat for a good two hours or so.

“After that, the mixture needs to be strained and then cooled in the refrigerator. We’re talking good and cooled, a few hours at least.”

Beck took the pot off the burner and handed Duncan one that had been simmered properly. “He’s going to strain that, and while he does that, let’s check on my brussels sprouts and tomatoes.”

Truth be told, Duncan hated tomatoes. But the ones Beck pulled out of the oven looked pretty good. They were caramelized and looked like they’d be a good soft counterpoint to the crunchy leaves from the roasted brussels sprouts. He had to admit, Beck knew what he was doing.

“See how much color and crispiness the roasting gave them? These are definitely not your average boiled brussels sprouts,” Beck said, using a spatula to move them around the pan. “We’re going to toss these in with the balsamic reduction, and then we’ll be ready to plate. How’s it going over there, Duncan?”