Chapter Text
[Voiceover:] Welcome to CHOPPED!
Three courses. Four chefs. Only one will win. The challenge: Create an unforgettable meal from the mystery ingredients provided before time runs out.
Let’s meet today’s competitors:
First up, chef Regina Mills. Regina is the daughter of the famous Michelin star chef, Cora Mills, and is the executive chef at The Red Apple in New York City, one of her mother’s three restaurants along the Eastern seaboard.
[Flash photo of Regina standing with her arm around Cora, followed by a close-up on Regina in the Chopped interview room, hair twisted back into a professional knot.]
“I grew up in the kitchen. I knew almost from the moment I was born that this was what I wanted to do, and my mother has been an amazing mentor. People sometimes underestimate me because they assume I’m only successful due to her. But I’ve been standing on my own two feet for a long time.”
Next, we have chef Emma Swan. Emma is the co-owner and head chef at Charming in Austin, Texas.
[Close-up on Emma, standing in front of her restaurant and grinning, followed by a close-up in the Chopped interview room.]
“I was always kind of a troubled kid, but when I was eighteen, some stuff happened, and I knew I had to get my crap together. I met David, the guy I co-own a restaurant with now, actually, and he took me in and mentored me, and I discovered just how much I love food. I mean, I’d always known I loved eating it,” she chuckles. “I just hadn’t known how much I would love making it, too.”
Next up, chef James Nolan. James is the executive chef of The Princely Pauper restaurant in Los Angeles, California.
[Shot of James, standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, chest puffed out. Not unlike a peacock wielding a giant white hat instead of colorful feathers.]
“Sometimes I like to call myself King of the Kitchen. I became executive chef at my first restaurant at only twenty-three. I just have that confidence you need for the position. Not to mention the talent,” he smirks. “I’m now executive chef at my fourth restaurant. I’m only thirty-four, but I have the experience and expertise of someone twice my age. My competitors aren’t going to know what hit them.”
And last but not least, we have chef Lance Knightley, head chef and owner of Nostos in New Orleans, Louisiana.
[Flash shot of Lance, one arm around a lovely woman with bronze skin and curly hair, the other clutching a guitar, chef’s hat askew on his head. Shift to him grinning in the interview room.]
“I started cooking later in life than most. I was 30 when I got out of the Army. My family expected me to go into law enforcement, but I wanted to do something different. Two of my favorite things are good music and good food, and New Orleans has both. So I gave it a shot. I moved there, got a job as a line cook, and worked my way up. Now, I own my own restaurant where I get to serve great food and showcase local bands, and I’m married to the most wonderful woman in the world. Life is good. But whose life isn’t better with an extra $10,000, you know?” he laughs.
-
When asked how she actually managed to get onto a Food Network show, Emma likes to just shrug and say, “Right place, right time.”
It’s one of those non-answers that make people laugh and nod, realizing that maybe she didn’t do anything but file an application and happen to be hit by a wave of sheer, dumb luck.
It’s actually the truth. Well, give or take a few too many bottles of Mike’s Hard Lemonade and a Chopped marathon with her best friend who actually instigated the whole thing to begin with.
She also credits the fact that Mary Margaret’s inebriated keyboarding skills are far superior to hers. Emma’s pretty sure that had she been typing instead of narrating her answers for the brunette’s transcription, the application would not have been legible, much less earned her a spot on the show.
Add in the fact that she apparently applied just when they were looking for chefs from Texas, and boom, two weeks later, she’s answering a phone call that leaves her standing stunned in the middle of her own kitchen, Henry waving a hand in front of her face to ask if everything’s alright.
“I’m gonna be on TV, kid,” she grins after snapping out of the temporary haze, and he’s confused until she explains everything.
He then whips out a notebook from his backpack and hands it over to her, demanding that they start thinking about the best way to prepare her for the show and that a list be made to detail the process.
He really is the best eight-year-old in the entire world.
Before she gives the show a firm answer, she talks it over with David and Mary Margaret, to see if they’ll be okay with taking Henry for a couple days. (Of course it’s fine, and she’d known it would be. Just like she’d known David wouldn’t have a problem with her taking the days off work.).
So she calls the network back. And she says yes.
-
The idea that she might win $10,000 is something that floats around her head for the next month, perpetually pushed into the background until she falls into bed at night too exhausted to put up her mental defenses. And then she thinks of the dream she’s nursed since she was sitting on a concrete floor with a pink-striped plastic stick in her hands. A dream of an actual house that they don’t rent, a dream she’s been saving up for for what feels like an eternity. A dream that might actually become a reality if she could add that chunk to her savings.
And that’s how she winds up in New York a month later, dressed in a stiff new grey chef’s jacket with the Chopped logo embroidered in the corner.
Unfortunately, she’s also wearing about six pounds of makeup, because this is as light as the artist was willing to go. Emma owns as many cosmetics as the next person, and she’ll make herself up for a date or big event, but she hates having it on her face while she’s cooking. She sweats it all off almost immediately anyway, and then her fact feels unnecessarily grimy for the rest of the day.
But still, she’s here.
Emma glances around, her surroundings still feeling just the tiniest bit surreal.
She has seen enough episodes to know where she is. This is the Waiting Room, where she and the other competitors will be waiting together between rounds - as well as apparently before them. She’s sitting on a stool at the table in the middle of the room, apparently the first to be ready to go. The room is a little bigger than she imagined, thankfully, because it always seemed pretty claustrophobic on the show.
Her skin is buzzing with nerves and excitement, and she takes a deep breath, trying to calm down.
She’s got this.
Then the door opens, and Emma turns, ready to greet her first competitor, and instead, she nearly swallows her tongue.
Why do the most gorgeous women in life always appear at the most inopportune moments?
Honestly. Is she cursed? Is this some sort of karma from a past life where she killed too many spiders instead of setting them outside like a compassionate human being?
(Okay, so she’s still gotta work on that one in this life, too. They’re just so damn creepy.)
After a moment too long, Emma regains her composure and holds out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Emma.”
She smiles and hopes it isn’t doesn’t shout, “Holy Julia Child, you’re insanely attractive and I can’t really feel my face right now.”
If it does, the other woman doesn’t seem to notice.
She gives Emma a smile in return that is polite, though nothing more, and returns her handshake. Emma’s mouth goes dry at the contact, but she pretends it doesn’t.
“Regina Mills.”
Regina takes the seat on the side catty-corner to Emma, and Emma tries not to tap her fingers or her feet or generally do anything annoying.
It’s just happenstance (and totally not the fact that Emma is maybe, possibly paying a bit too much attention to her peripheral vision) that Emma notices when Regina turns subtly and gives her a once over Emma can feel to her toes. Regina’s lips part slightly and she bites her lip - Bites! Her! Lip! - before she schools her expression again.
Well. This just got much more interesting.
[Excerpt from CHOPPED application by Emma Swan:
What do you consider the best aspect about cooking/being a chef?
Food. Duh. ]