Page 37 of The Baking Games

She has a multimillion-dollar business empire, and rabid fans line up for hours just to sample what she creates. I don't think I could get a line of three stray cats to stand here and eat what I've got on my station.

And then, of course, there's Marco, the dashing international man of mystery who travels around the world eating at different places. How is that a job? How did someone get so lucky in all their life choices that what they do for a living is travel the world and eat?

Anyway, the intimidating brain trust of the dessert elite continues walking around the kitchen. I can’t hear everything they’re saying, but they seem pretty impressed with what most people have done. That shall change as soon as they arrive at my station. Everything fell apart, so I had to abandon my original design vision for the chocolate rose sculpture and settle on a sleeker, more minimalist approach.

A series of gravity-defying curved panels that were to be balanced on a sloping wave-like structure. It was supposed to look like perpetual motion. Basically, it was what I could do in the time I had left, but now I find the judges standing right in front of me, Chef Alain with his narrow eyes silently looking at my lopsided curves and imperfect chocolate work. Chocolate is not what I'm good at. I'm a talented pastry chef, or at least I think I am. You give me a cake, and I will wipe the floor with you, but you give me a bunch of chocolate, and well, this is what happens.

I can't help but see the flaws in everything I'm looking at. Tessa's gaze roams over my design, giving no hint as to whether she thinks it's innovative or just completely ridiculous. The knot of dread in my stomach is clenching tighter as Marco picks up one of the rippling wave pieces and looks at it closer. Kind of a strange thing to do. They normally don't pick things up, but mine isn’t completely together, so he figured no harm was done.

"This was an intriguing approach," Chef Alain says in a clinical, detached manner. "I suppose you were trying to capture perpetual movement, which was certainly ambitious." I brace myself. I know this isn't going to be good. "To be honest, the execution is very much lacking in precision. These warped curves and uneven layers don't achieve the sort of meticulous mathematical flow that you would need. Very imprecise to convey the intended visual." It’s like listening to a thesaurus come to life and speak to me. Lots of big words, and I have no idea what he means.

I can't help but flinch as he continues to tell me everything wrong with what I've done here. But then Tessa decides to join in. "Yeah, I'm not feeling the kinetic energy that you were going for here, and these overlapping wave patterns just look chaotic and muddy."

Her feedback strikes yet another humiliating blow to my already severely lacking confidence. They suggest how I could have improved this, but what do I care? I don't ever plan to do this again.

Marco steps forward with his eyebrows knitted together. He traces his finger along one of the curved panels, and his expression sours. "There's just textural issues here beyond the shape problems,” he says. "The chocolate seems over-tempered, wouldn't you agree? It has an almost grainy look, and I ate a piece of it, and I just... well, let's say I wouldn't want to eat it again."

My cheeks flush like someone has poured scalding hot water on them. My rookie tempering mistake has just been called out in front of everyone. I hazard a glance over at Connor, who has a smirk on his face as if he's enjoying this more than Christmas morning.

At this point, I just want them to leave my station. I would like to go upstairs and pack my bags since it seems obvious that I’ll be going home tonight. They continue walking around, and they land at Bianca's workstation. As bad as my sculpture looked, Bianca's looks even worse. I cringe with secondary embarrassment for her when I can see that tears are already visible on her face. Her design missed the mark big time, and she looks like she created some sort of a sphere of chocolate that just fell apart all over her station.

I don't know exactly what she was trying to do. Tessa looks at it in disgust. "Was this even supposed to be recognizable as some kind of architectural inspiration? I can't even find a design pattern or theme here at all. It just looks like a big, melted blob. I'm so confused."

Yikes. I feel bad for Bianca. I haven't talked to her often, but she seems nice enough.

"Yes, I'm very confused," Marco says. "This consistency is absolutely unacceptable for professional-level work. Very sloppy and broken down. It's essentially inedible."

Her head hangs, and I want to give her a hug. They say a few more comments, none of them being any better, and then mercifully move on to the next station. I can't help but feel some relief. Maybe I at least have a chance to stay. Of course, when the at-home audience votes after seeing my temper tantrum, they'll probably want to vote me off. I can't blame them.

They finally reach Rhett's station, and sitting there in its immaculate, breathtaking glory is nothing short of what I would call a sculptural chocolate masterpiece—a towering, spiraling vortex that I can't understand how he even made. It looks like something out of an art gallery.

Every component is exquisitely executed, and it makes me mad to even say so, but I can't help it. It's something to really behold. There's a seamless, glossy surface polish to the chocolate that I don't understand how he accomplished, and that was with him coming over to my station a couple of times to try to help me… or maybe taunt me. I still don't know.

"Now, this is what I'm talking about," Chef Alain says loudly. He's still not smiling, but he seems excited. "The impeccable craftsmanship and the visionary scope here. Bravo!”

"That glossy finish is unreal," Tessa says. "And capturing this with such clean architectural style. Very nice."

Even Marco seems at a loss for words for a moment. Everyone is staring at it with rapt fascination, and there's Rhett himself, a gratified pride glowing through his striking blue eyes as they cut over to me briefly. I am, of course, staring at him mortified. I can see the barest hint of a smirk or a smile. It's hard to tell with him.

Chef Alain turns around. "Make no mistake, as far as the judges go, there is a clear winner in today's challenge. Of course, we still have to wait for the audience to vote on who's going home, and their votes will be combined with ours. We already know who we think should leave the challenge today, but the audience might be able to change that decision. We will be back shortly to announce. For now, start cleaning up your stations."

I assume this is when they go on a commercial break, so I quickly start cleaning up, knowing that this could be the last time I'm in this kitchen. Bianca's masterpiece was no such thing, but neither was mine. It could really be either one of us. It could actually be anyone. The audience does have quite a bit of say-so in this situation.

"Congratulations,” I say in Rhett's direction. He turns and smiles slightly.

"Thanks."

Thanks. Is that all he has to say? I expected him to stick his chest out and walk around like an egomaniacal rooster or something, but instead, he just begins to wipe down his station.

He had the undisputed victory here. Why isn't he playing it up more?

A few moments later, Dan arrives again in the kitchen with the three judges behind him. They stand before the cameras and announce that Rhett is the winner, and we all clap. Well, except for Connor, he pretends to clap. You can tell he's not actually touching his hands together. He wanted to win, and he didn't, and for that much, I'm thankful that Rhett got it.

"After reviewing the judge's votes and then adding in the audience participation, we have our first contestant who will be leaving The Baking Games for week one, and that contestant is..."

There's a long pause for dramatic effect.

"Bianca."

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