The Proof of the Pudding is in the Eating (cont’d)
Realising that he had no place to hide, he sauntered across to Laurel, with a malicious sneer, ‘I demand to taste your food. It is inconceivable that your little pudding is chosen above my own recipe.’ Unblinking, Laurel said, ‘I thought you might say that. I have another plate for you back in the kitchen. Come with me.’ Muttering ‘this contest is not yet over,’ he turned and followed her with a snort of dismissive laughter.
The critic looked on, his brow furrowed, knowing that the once great chef couldn’t possibly hope to gain from such a confrontation.
Laurel handed Igor a plate with the remaining pastry, which he grabbed, sniffed, rotated in his fingers and finally bit into.
With narrowing eyes and a wave of the hand, he retorted, ‘you call this…this offering …better than the dish of the famous, Silver- Apple-awarded, Igor Romanski? You are fools.’
No sooner were the words uttered than he clutched at his stomach and ran off towards the toilets. Laurel started to giggle, before erupting into full-on belly laughs, as the judges watched her, horrified and bemused.
Seeing their puzzled expressions, she bent down to her box of ingredients and pulled out some extra-strong laxative powder. ‘Don’t worry, I only used this on his serving. I had a feeling he’d object to losing.’
As peals of laughter filled the kitchen, she added, ‘after all, revenge is a dish best served cold!’