Fed up by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant Read Free Book Online

enough. He stepped between the bickering couple and removed Francie’s plate. Fumbling for words, he finally said, “I can’t apologize enough. I’d be happy to make you something else, something... uh... if you can you tell me what’s wrong with this?”
    I seriously thought that Josh might cry. This experience was positively humiliating for him. If he’d been cooking for a private party, he’d have been mortified to serve food that made one of the hosts nearly gag. But this occasion was anything but private! And how many viewers would vote for Josh after watching and listening to Francie? None, I thought. Not one viewer. His chance of winning the competition had just dropped to zero.
    “Yes,” said Francie, “I can tell you exactly what’s wrong. It’s bitter beyond bitter.” As if she’d failed to make her point, she added, “Horribly bitter! Really very foul tasting.”
    “The arugula,” Josh said hopefully. “The arugula has a sharp bitterness to it.”
    “No.” Francie shook her head and again sent her wavy hair flying. “I’m very sorry, Josh, but that’s not it. It’s not right. I can’t eat this.”
    Following Robin’s orders, Nelson had the camera going. Digger and Marlee both stood rigidly still with their eyes nearly popping out of their heads. The two chefs obviously knew that Josh had completely blown this meal. Neither one looked terribly happy, but they didn’t look torn up over Josh’s failure, either. I thought I would be sick; Josh looked absolutely crushed.
    “There’s no time to have Josh make something else. I don’t know what to do.” Robin bit her lip and seemed momentarily lost. “Well, we’ll have to move on. It’ll just have to be part of the episode. What happens, happens, I’m afraid.” I saw a slight but unmistakable glint in Robin’s eye as she savored the prospect of airing this episode of Chefly, Yours. From Robin’s viewpoint, Francie’s dramatic condemnation of Josh’s food was far better than pleasant murmuring about how delicious everything was. Josh’s pain was Robin’s idea of great TV.
    “Why don’t we move on to the tomato salad and cheese course,” I suggested. “And dessert, too.” I took Francie’s plate from Josh’s hands, carried it to the kitchen, and braced myself against the counter. Oh, Josh! What happened? Maybe he was so nervous that he accidentally added something: weird to the food? Or the old oven didn’t cook the lamb at
    the proper temperature and...? No. Francie had complained about bitterness. Overcooked or undercooked lamb chops would be tough or raw or flavorless, but they wouldn’t be bitter. Like Josh, I thought of the arugula. At this time of year, it was all too easy to buy lettuce and other; greens, including arugula, that had gone to seed and turned bitter. Maybe most of the arugula had been fine, and Francie had somehow ended up tasting a tiny bit that had been ruined by summer heat.
    A second later, my dejected boyfriend followed me into the kitchen but avoided looking at me. “Leo’s finishing up his fish,” Josh said, “and I’m going to serve the rest of the meal.” He swore under his breath and then slammed a pair of tongs into the bowl that held the remains of the gnocchi. “There is nothing wrong with that lamb,” he growled.
    “Well, why don’t we taste it?” I whispered.
    Josh looked at me. “Yeah, good idea.” He cut a bit for both of us from Francie’s plate. “Now, don’t think I normally go eating off customers’ plates at the restaurant, okay?” He managed a little smile.
    Until he tasted the lamb.
    “Oh, my God.” He wrinkled his face and quickly spat out the offending meat.
    “Oh, stop! It can’t be that bad.“ Curious, I sampled a tiny slice. Bitter, I realized, was a gross understatement. Gagging, I turned and spat the meat out into the sink, which was, thank goodness, equipped with a garbage disposal, exactly where the vile piece of lamb belonged. I filled glasses of