“Okay, so finish them.” Chef JJ pushed the plate across the table. “Now. Eat every last one.”

“What is this, an eating challenge?”

“Sure.”

“You know what I’m thinking?” Dieter turned to speak directly into the camera. “Harper is”—he waved his arms like he was conducting everyone watching this at home on their couches—“making excuses.”

“I don’t do excuses.” Harper picked up the fork and began gobbling string beans.

In seconds, streams of sweat were rolling down her face. “Fine! Fine!” She waved the fork in the air. “I misjudged the chili. Happy now?”

“Yes.” Chef JJ sighed, then smiled. “I am.”

“CUT!”

• • •

When we came back from break, it was my turn. I brought up the mousse in two small bowls and set them on the tasting table.

Chef JJ sniffed, dipped her spoon into the mousse, then held it up to the light, and inspected it. If it were at all grainy, she definitely would have seen. I couldn’t see any sandy spots, and if she did, she didn’t say so.

Finally, she put the spoon in her mouth, then swallowed, and gave a little shrug. “Meh.”

“Meh?” I said.

“You know, ‘meh’ as in, ‘ish.’ Not good, not bad. Just kind of there.”

“But I only used one ingredient. Just the chocolate.”

“That’s true. But that’s really its only virtue, isn’t it?” This wasn’t an act. She really wasn’t impressed. “Although after those green beans, I guess you get points for not causing me physical pain, so there’s that. Bravo for blandness.”

Dieter clapped. “Bravo for blandness!”

Yay, me. I moped back to my station.

“Keya, let’s see what you’ve got back there.”

Keya walked forward slowly as if she had a book balanced on her head, and when she passed, I realized why. On her tray were two mugs filled to the brim with a steaming, foamy liquid.

I couldn’t believe it. Keya was fancying things up with those milk frothers? For a while, each new restaurant in New York Mom dragged us to was serving everything bubbly—soups, sauces, anything that could be frothed, was. And it did look cool, but you know what bubbles taste like? That’s right, nothing. No way Chef JJ was going to fall for an airy, tasteless soup, no matter how cool it looked.

Chef JJ put her face over the mug and inhaled. “Cardamom?”

Keya nodded.

“And turmeric?”

Keya nodded again.

“And…” Chef JJ took a long sniff. “Cloves?”

“Just a bit.”

“I’m intrigued. Tell me what we have here.”

“It’s a spiced butter tea. My own take on traditional butter tea that we drink in the north of India. I spend summers there with my aunt. I don’t love the classic version. It’s more…practical, keeps you hydrated, warm. Gives you energy. This one does that as well, but it tastes quite nice too. At least, I think it does.”

“Let’s see.” Chef JJ picked up a mug with both hands and sipped once…twice…three times. “Taste it,” she said to Dieter.