My official rejection from the Great Canadian Baking Show came a few weeks ago, and I forgot to write the story of my audition. We had to bake something in ten minutes. We didn’t know what it would be.
As we all entered the kitchen, we each found a space at a metal island—two to a countertop. Flour, sugar, salt, and milk were gathered in the centre to share, but each baker had their own equipment. The recipe was on a piece of paper facedown. A baking sheet was already lined with parchment. We had ten minutes before it had to be in the oven.
As soon as I saw the recipe for biscuits, I knew an ingredient was missing. Everyone else started measuring and mixing; I went looking for butter.
It’s a professional kitchen, so there are a lot of fridges, and they’re all big ones. I checked four before I just asked. The baking producer (different than the TV producer) led me to another wing of the kitchen with another room of fridges.
I made my biscuits; I got them in the oven with time to spare. (I took them out probably a bit too early.) I watched the other bakers and wondered how much longer it would have taken them to discover the most vital ingredient was missing. Hope I got a few bonus points for that butter.