Whatley continued.
At the mention of the cod, Johnson, who had seemed dead set on
not
talking, interjected: âIt sucks.â
âWater. No fat. Big challenge,â Whatley explained, summarizing the prevailing opinion about cod.
As morning broke over Lake Buena Vista, the vans arrived at the World Showplace and the teams, their moment of judgment at hand, filed into the facility with all the joie de vivre of prisoners on a death march.
A soaring, Western movieâlike instrumental theme washed over the hall, which had been brought nearly to completion since the day prior. Gone were the cherry pickers, but one ladder remained, from which a stagehand was hanging long rectangular signs bearing the names of the candidates and their commis over each kitchen. Another member of DisneyâsEntertainment crew was touching up the kitchen window frames with an odorless red paint.
The teams had fifty minutes to set up their kitchens and the time flew, in part because there were some surprises in store. In Kitchen 4, Whatley discovered that the All-Clad roasting pans didnât fit into the Convotherm oven, a problem because, to roast veal bones for stock âclassically, culinarily, you need to use a roasting pan.â He opted for a shallower pan and hoped that the proctors wouldnât dock him for deviating from tradition.
As in Lyon, the teams would commence cooking in an empty stadium; audiences wouldnât wander in until the doors opened at eleven thirty. Henin gathered the hopefuls together in a line and reminded them that theyâd start at ten-minute intervals, which would create the ten-minute window between each teamâs fish platter and five minutes between their meat platters.
Henin dispatched them to their kitchens: Rosendale in Kitchen 1, Sbraga in Kitchen 2, Rotondo in Kitchen 3, and Whatley on the end in Kitchen 4. Rosendale again exhibited his competition experience: he banished the hand sink to the corridor; commis Warrenâs task list was color coded; and photographs of the finished dishesâthe ultimate in aided visualizationâwere taped to the wall for reference.
One by one, Henin visited the kitchens, counting down the staggered start times: âFive, four, three, two, one.
Go
!â
The chefs jumped right in: Rosendale began butchering his meat and fish, while in Kitchen 2, it was Sbragaâs turn to be surprised: why were the veal bones and oxtail still frozen? He roasted the bones and prepared an ice bath to thaw the oxtail, then, scrambling to recapture lost time, he butchered his beef tenderloin too quickly and stabbed himself in the hand. Improvising for the second time that day, he taped a napkin over the wound and wedged it in place with a latex glove.
For Michael Rotondo, the drama had come the day before: because his shipment from Las Vegas had arrived several hours later than expected on Thursday, he was not able to organize his mise en place as thoroughly as the other competitors had during set-up time at the Showplace. Butthe chef took it in stride. At a Charlie Trotter restaurant, where many VIP guests are treated to a new menu every time they come in, âWe do a lot of spontaneous cooking ⦠cooking on the fly ⦠[so] are used to working in an environment that is pretty intense and under pressure.â
In Kitchen 4, Whatley and Johnson had misplaced one of the essential elements of their game plan: their rhythm. Whatley fell behind almost immediately. He had no idea why, but by one hour and twenty minutes into their time, he was still butterflying prawns that should have been finished more than a quarter hour earlier.
âIâm fifteen minutes behind and I donât know how Iâm going to make it up,â he whispered to Johnson. He didnât have to say another word: his wingman immediately put the pedal to the metal, going into full-on octopus mode, doing three or four things at once instead of just one or two: chopping
At the mention of the cod, Johnson, who had seemed dead set on
not
talking, interjected: âIt sucks.â
âWater. No fat. Big challenge,â Whatley explained, summarizing the prevailing opinion about cod.
As morning broke over Lake Buena Vista, the vans arrived at the World Showplace and the teams, their moment of judgment at hand, filed into the facility with all the joie de vivre of prisoners on a death march.
A soaring, Western movieâlike instrumental theme washed over the hall, which had been brought nearly to completion since the day prior. Gone were the cherry pickers, but one ladder remained, from which a stagehand was hanging long rectangular signs bearing the names of the candidates and their commis over each kitchen. Another member of DisneyâsEntertainment crew was touching up the kitchen window frames with an odorless red paint.
The teams had fifty minutes to set up their kitchens and the time flew, in part because there were some surprises in store. In Kitchen 4, Whatley discovered that the All-Clad roasting pans didnât fit into the Convotherm oven, a problem because, to roast veal bones for stock âclassically, culinarily, you need to use a roasting pan.â He opted for a shallower pan and hoped that the proctors wouldnât dock him for deviating from tradition.
As in Lyon, the teams would commence cooking in an empty stadium; audiences wouldnât wander in until the doors opened at eleven thirty. Henin gathered the hopefuls together in a line and reminded them that theyâd start at ten-minute intervals, which would create the ten-minute window between each teamâs fish platter and five minutes between their meat platters.
Henin dispatched them to their kitchens: Rosendale in Kitchen 1, Sbraga in Kitchen 2, Rotondo in Kitchen 3, and Whatley on the end in Kitchen 4. Rosendale again exhibited his competition experience: he banished the hand sink to the corridor; commis Warrenâs task list was color coded; and photographs of the finished dishesâthe ultimate in aided visualizationâwere taped to the wall for reference.
One by one, Henin visited the kitchens, counting down the staggered start times: âFive, four, three, two, one.
Go
!â
The chefs jumped right in: Rosendale began butchering his meat and fish, while in Kitchen 2, it was Sbragaâs turn to be surprised: why were the veal bones and oxtail still frozen? He roasted the bones and prepared an ice bath to thaw the oxtail, then, scrambling to recapture lost time, he butchered his beef tenderloin too quickly and stabbed himself in the hand. Improvising for the second time that day, he taped a napkin over the wound and wedged it in place with a latex glove.
For Michael Rotondo, the drama had come the day before: because his shipment from Las Vegas had arrived several hours later than expected on Thursday, he was not able to organize his mise en place as thoroughly as the other competitors had during set-up time at the Showplace. Butthe chef took it in stride. At a Charlie Trotter restaurant, where many VIP guests are treated to a new menu every time they come in, âWe do a lot of spontaneous cooking ⦠cooking on the fly ⦠[so] are used to working in an environment that is pretty intense and under pressure.â
In Kitchen 4, Whatley and Johnson had misplaced one of the essential elements of their game plan: their rhythm. Whatley fell behind almost immediately. He had no idea why, but by one hour and twenty minutes into their time, he was still butterflying prawns that should have been finished more than a quarter hour earlier.
âIâm fifteen minutes behind and I donât know how Iâm going to make it up,â he whispered to Johnson. He didnât have to say another word: his wingman immediately put the pedal to the metal, going into full-on octopus mode, doing three or four things at once instead of just one or two: chopping
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