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Hell's Smitten	By : WhatItShouldveBeen Category: Celebrities - Misc > Het - Male/Female Views: 3173 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is fiction, I do not know Gordon Ramsay and I make no money off this story!

Chapter List
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Monday, June 24th, 2013
When the limo finally comes to a stop, we all get out quickly, excitement tinges the air as we gaze up at the big trident spelling out "HK" in front of the sound stage-turned-restaurant. Some of us, including myself, take the stairs two at a time in eagerness to make it to the kitchen and begin our dishes. The LCD TVs that line the red hallways of Hell's Kitchen's entrance display time clocks, counting down from 45:00.
I am among the first to make it to the kitchen and quickly begin gathering ingredients for my signature dish from the fridge in the very back. I recall the things that Ramsay really enjoyed eating from previous contestants of earlier seasons, and think on my own strengths and weaknesses. Quickly, I decide I will make pan seared scallops, with a white wine tarragon sauce topped with finely chopped bits of bacon.
An older black gentleman meets me at the back of the fridge where the scallops are kept and gives a small smile as we both take enough scallops for our dishes. I fervently wish that he isn't able to make a better dish that I can... and hope that I don't over or under-cook the scallops, as I know that will make or break a first impression with Chef Ramsay's high standards.

Forty-five minutes flies by quicker than the blink of an eye. My scallops look perfectly cooked as I meticulously babysit them on the pan. Carefully, I lay them out in a pleasing pattern on the plate, drop the perfect amount of white wine tarragon sauce on and then sprinkle the bright red bacon pieces over the top. I garnish the plate with a small curl of lemon peel and set it up under its silver domed serving platter right as the buzzer sounds to announce the end of our time.

Now my heart really starts to race. This isn't a dream anymore, in a few seconds, Gordon Ramsay will be walking out of his office to greet us. Soon enough, he will be tasting the food I'd prepared for him. It felt surreal. The other contestants and I line up, women at the front of the left red kitchen and men at the front of the right blue kitchen.

Then the doors to his office open and a spotlight follows him as Chef Ramsay skips down the stairs agilely. Gordon looks more intimidating in person than he ever looked on TV. His sharp blue eyes show intense intelligence as he surveys his new chefs, standing tall and proud at the front of our chef lineup.
He opens his arms in greeting to us.
"Welcome! Good to see all your bright, shining smiles this afternoon. I hope your flights were lovely. The winner of this competition will become the new executive chef at a restaurant I am opening up right next to my home in London, aptly named 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine'. Keep in mind, the red team is versus the blue team on this signature dish challenge. Let's get to it, shall we? Starting from the outside, the red team presents first." He points to the first woman on the red team side and the first man on the blue team side then motions them forward.
Our red team contestant has short brown hair in a bun, a sharp nose, and serious eyes. She walks as if she had a string pulling her up from the top of her head, and sets down her platter carefully, adjusting it so it is sat just so, before flourishing the lid open. At the same time, the blue team's contestant walks gaily to the front, carefree as anything, and places his platter down. It was the same kid who'd poured out the champagne for all of us earlier.
"Right, your name please? And what is your dish?" Chef asks, addressing the red team contestant and waving his hand towards her dish.
She stands with her arms behind her back, her hands tightly locked together and responds, "Gail. I have a freshly baked halibut with tomato, onion, olives, and capers with just a bit of cayenne for a kick of spice."
Ramsay nods before pulling her plate towards him. "Well, first off, the presentation is an absolute mess. You have onions sticking out like loose hairs. Really unappetizing. Let's see how it tastes."
To her credit, Gail takes his criticism in stride and watches intently as he takes a bite.
"Though it looks like absolute shite, it tastes rather good. If you were to spend more time making it presentable you might have a decent dish. Thank you, Gail," he says, then dismisses her. She nods and takes her plate and tray back to the lineup.

"Alright, you, name please and your dish?" he addresses the blue team contestant now, who lifts his platter's lid.
"Hey I'm Dave, and this is a, uh, stuffed cabbage roll with beef, rice, and tomatoes topped with queso cheese." He pushes the plate towards Ramsay.
Chef takes the plate and examines it. "Your cabbage rolls look slimy on the parts that aren't absolutely oozing with cheese. You went a bit overboard with the queso, I think," he says as he takes a fork and knife, cutting into the cabbage roll to take a bite.
"Overall, too cheesy. If you had merely topped it with something else or perhaps prepared the cabbage in a way that didn't make it shine like plastic it might look and taste better. I'm disappointed, Dave." He motions for Dave to step back in line and clasps his hands together.
"I don't think either of you is quite up to my standards, so no team gets a point. Next two, please."

Up next are two people I hadn't taken note of yet. Blue team's contestant is a man with short brown hair, buggy eyes, and no chin. He walks with confidence to Chef Ramsay, however, and places his tray down. Red team's contestant is a short, lumpy 30-something woman with a haircut that screams: "Take me to your manager!" She walks to Chef and takes her lid off sideways, knocking off some garnish from the top of her plate. She quickly tries to grab it, but Ramsay pushes her hand away.
"You have to be more careful! You can't just fling lids willy nilly! Get a grip! What is your name and what is it," he quickly gestures at the dish, "and don't mention the garnish, I'm not eating that off the table like a starving dog."
She looks embarrassed before straightening up and speaking,
"Uh, I'm Cindy, this is my signature dish, baked lemon chicken with a creamy mushroom sauce." She eyes the garnish that had been knocked off, and Ramsay responds by quickly swiping the garnish into the trash can.
"Alright Cindy, well, it looks decent, would surely have looked better had you not trashed your garnish. Let's give it a taste." He cuts into the chicken for just a second before drawing back with a disgusted face.
"Cindy," he pauses, "are you trying to poison me before we even begin the fucking show??" He looks enraged as he turns the chicken towards her and the camera.
Cindy's face goes pale as she stammers, trying to apologize.
"Fucking RAW Cindy! You would think forty-five minutes would be enough time to cook a fucking chicken breast, but you evidently can't handle even the most basic of tasks. I'm not eating this." He quickly swipes the dish up and dumps the whole thing over into the trash.
"And considering you attempted to apologize before I even told you what was wrong, I'm guessing you WERE trying to poison me because you KNEW it was raw and still decided to serve it! You think that's acceptable behavior for an executive chef at 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine'? If I had you as the head chef, it'd be called 'Gordon Ramsay's Biological Hazard'. Get the fuck back in line." He dismisses her with a furious wave of his hand, not even bothering to look at her. She drops her head and takes back her empty tray.

"Alright, I certainly hope you haven't come to poison me as well, what's your name and what is the dish?" he asks the blue team contestant.
"Hey, I'm Alex, I've been a line chef for eight years and this is my signature dish, lentils, and wild rice with fried onions." He lifts the lid and pushes the plate towards Chef.
"Hmm, looks decent, the onions look crisp. Let's taste it." He spoons a bite of rice and onion together and then brings it to his mouth.
"The aroma is lovely, and it tastes lovely too. The onions are cooked to perfection. Well done, Alex, back in line." Alex nods and turns to leave, when Ramsay adds, "Oh, and thanks for not trying to poison me." Cindy looks down quickly, her cheeks going red in embarrassment once again.

"Poison and excellence, let's hope that we can stick to the latter, shall we? I think it's obvious that the blue team has earned the point this time." Ramsay motions for the next two contestants to come forward.
Our contestant this time is the bleached blonde with her tits falling out from her shirt. She walks with an exaggerated sway to her hips to place her tray down. The boy's contestant is the buzz cut black-haired man who'd tried to comfort the short woman he'd called "Red" on the limo. He confidently places his tray down and smiles at Ramsay.
"Alright, red team, your name, and your dish please?" Ramsay looks at his watch then clasps his hands behind his back.
"Heeeyyyy, Gordon, I'm Bella. I call this dish 'Bella's Baked Ziti'. It's made with Italian sausage, pasta and tomato sauce with cheese," she says, almost sickeningly sweet.
"It's Chef to you. Good God, I would've hoped I wouldn't have to say this to anyone again but your breasts are exploding from your shirt. Please cover yourself." He hands her a towel from over his shoulder. She takes it daintily and places it over her chest, flushed.
"Presentation is lacking, you have sauce everywhere on the rim of the plate. It looks like you just slapped it down. Did it do something to you to deserve this?" Ramsay lifts a corner of the ziti and wrinkles his nose. "You've broken the pasta from handing it so roughly. I'm surprised it stayed together long enough for you to walk it over to me. The filling is practically spilling out like your tits from your top. Let's hope it tastes better than it looks..." he mumbles as he cuts the ziti.
"You're lacking seasoning, but otherwise it is quite good. If only it looked better than slop. Get back in line!" He sharply jabs his finger at the red team and Bella quickly scurries away with her tray, holding the towel over her bosom.

I couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of Bella getting a towel from Ramsay. Though it was only a towel that was meant to cover her breasts, he still had given it to her himself. I find myself strongly hoping that he will give me something of his eventually during my stay to remember him by.

"OK, blue team, your name and dish please?" Gordon's voice snaps me back to the present.
The man from the blue team actually manages to make Gordon look average height, he is maybe two or three inches taller than the 6'2 Gordon Ramsay, but Gordon still looks far more intimidating than the muscular blue team contestant. Maybe I am only thinking that because I know how intense Chef is.
"The name's Garrett. An' this here is my signature dish, tilapia scampi. A twist on the traditional shrimp scampi." Garrett watches eagerly as Ramsay inspects his dish.
Gordon lifts up one end of the tilapia with a fork and motions with his other hand, "A little burnt here, but it looks good. Let's taste it..." he trails off, cutting into the fish and taking a bite.
"It's perfectly flaky, rich with good use of butter and garlic. Delicious. Just be more careful to not burn it next time and you should be golden." Ramsay smiles at Garrett and hands him his plate.
Garrett beams as he takes his plate back, almost forgetting the dome for his serving platter. He turns around to grab it and Chef is already handing it to him.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, big boy," Ramsay teases, then follows up with, "It appears both teams are making a comeback, one point to each."
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Hell's Smitten