Worth the Risk by Meryl Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page A

the lettuce and the baby squash, but I think you made your own dressing and marinated the chicken in lime and something, right?”
    â€œCorrect. I had to experiment a lot because this is my first Asian-fusion salad. I wanted a simple dressing that wouldn’t taste like some kid’s chemistry experiment.”
    Amber giggled. “This salad dressing is great. I taste…balsamic vinegar.”
    Brad nodded. “Balsamic vinegar from Spain infused with ginger. I use the KISS method. Keep It Simple Stupid. Balsamic vinegar, ginger, Vietnamese herbs and—”
    â€œSesame oil not olive oil.”
    â€œYou’ve got a knack for taste,” Brad said with an approving smile. “Sesame oil is best in this salad. It allows the unique Asian flavor to come through.”
    â€œYou marinated the chicken before it was grilled.” Amber speared a sliver as she spoke.
    â€œAgain. Keeping it simple is the secret of most chefs’ success. I marinated the chicken in lime juice for an hour before draining it and patting it dry. Too many people use enough marinade to pickle a bull and leave it on too long. An hour, two, tops, for chicken, or it gets mushy and all you taste is the marinade.”
    â€œI’ll remember that.”
    â€œWhat did you think of my kitchen?” Brad asked Amber.
    â€œHectic. Much more frantic than I imagined.” She played with her fork for a moment. “But it was really exciting. Not boring like some jobs.”
    I told you so, Lexi silently said to Brad.
    â€œMost people in a kitchen work for minimum wage,” Brad added. “It’s stressful and pays poorly.”
    â€œNot the sous-chef or executive chef or pastry chef.”
    â€œTrue,” Brad conceded, “but that’s a few people out of—what?—two dozen.”
    â€œI want to be one of the few,” Amber assured him. “You know, the few, the proud, the brave. Like the Marines.”
    Lexi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead she nearly choked when she looked up and saw Rick Fullerton, executive chef from Marché, heading toward their table.
    â€œOut slumming, Fullerton?” Brad greeted his competitor.
    â€œHello, Lexi,” Rick said to her.
    â€œHi,” she managed to reply in what could pass for a level voice. Rick was her biggest customer. He personally picked out produce from her garden twice a week. She’d never had enough money to eat at his restaurant. How could she explain being here?
    â€œActually,” Rick said with a barely perceptible smile, “I came to try your special salad. I’m hearing great things about it.”
    â€œIt’s fabulous,” Amber said. “Lexi gave Brad the idea.”
    Lexi had the urge to dive under the table.
    â€œInteresting.”
    She didn’t like the sound of Rick’s voice. She hoped she hadn’t lost her best customer over a lunch that had done absolutely nothing to change her sister’s mind about pursuing a career as a chef.

Chapter 6
    â€œYou’re not going to believe this!” cried Amber.
    Lexi was stooped over a row of baby squash and plucking out the weeds that seemed to have sprouted since she left this morning for a job interview. She stood up, her back aching. How had Aunt Callie done this when she’d been over eighty? “Believe what?”
    Amber clutched her backpack to her chest and kept talking. “Today Mrs. Geffen had us draw lots for the proctors for the cooking contest.”
    â€œSo?” Lexi yanked up another weed. “You knew there would be a proctor who would watch you prepare and bake your dessert. They just want to make sure the contestants don’t buy it somewhere or have their mother make it.”
    â€œYeah, right, but talk about luck. Guess who I drew?”
    Lexi could tell from Amber’s tone it wasn’t good. According to the contest rules, a pastry chef or a pastry chef’s assistant would be