Confectionary Conniption

“I want to be dazzled.”

Those words have been ringing in my head for the past couple of hours. Marisol, our boss, announced this morning when we opened that she wanted to sell a new dessert for Valentine’s Day. In her own words, she wanted “Something that surprised and drew the interest of all our customers.” 

You’d think a young, budding pastry chef, determined to make her mark in the ever-competitive world of baked goods would have eagerly jumped at the opportunity to impress their boss, the person who would promote them in the leadership hierarchy of her shop and provide glowing recommendations to the best culinary schools in the country. 

Yet at that moment my mind and heart filled with the weight of self-doubt. 

You see, ever since A Little Bite, the bakery not owned by Marisol was featured in the dining column of the local newspaper, she has been on edge trying to put her shop, Something Sweet, on the minds of as many customers and food critics that she could. She even started a new project where if any employee creates a new item that sells great in the shop, they get a bonus on their next check. 

Now don’t get the wrong idea reader. I’ve been searching and researching for the best new ideas to give Marisol what she wants. I’ve even gone so far as to jot down new ideas that pop into my head at random moments. (Even during my sleep!)

Have I given Marisol plenty of new dishes? Of course. Has she used many of them? Well….

Maybe it’s the sting of so many rejections that are holding me back. Or maybe it’s the heat of competition from the other five budding chefs that are also working with me. Or maybe it’s (dare I say it)....I’ve just run out of ideas!

“Hello, Earth to Ashlynn!” A hand waved in front of my eyes, jarring me out of my thoughts. Estere, my favorite employee at Something Sweet, stood in front of me, a genuine look of concern on her face. “Girl, you’ve been staring off into space for a good five minutes. You good?”

“Huh, oh yeah,” I gave her what I hoped was a convincing “just goofing” grin. Judging by the look on her face, mine wasn’t convincing enough. 

“Still thinking about Marisol’s competition?” 

I shrugged my shoulders non-chalantely. “I mean, maybe a little.”

Estere glanced over the glass container filled with the Something Sweet goods into the dining area. Even though Marisol was pressed about getting more customers, we’ve still had our usual amount of customers and sales coming through to get their fix of cookies, pastries, and the different flavors of fudge made with Marisol’s family recipe. On today, a Saturday, the tables and chairs were filled with mothers toting toddlers in strollers, people clicking away on laptops, and joggers enjoying their prescribed cheat day. 

“I heard Justin and Cheyenne talking in the back. Seems like they might work together again.”

I rolled my eyes. Marisol never set any rules with her project, so the two of them have teamed together in a sort of baking duo. It was a smart move, but now that two of their ideas have been picked up, and were now being sold in the store, it gets a little irking whenever they’re mentioned. 

I smiled sweetly, swinging an arm around Estere’s shoulders. “You know, I was thinking…”

“No!” Estere cut my words off, throwing my arm as well.

“Come on Estere! If we’d work together, we could probably come up with something good!”

Estere shook her head. “I’m not a chef or as creative as the rest of y’all. I’m just good at selling the stuff, that’s my skill. Coming up with something new and inventive? Not me.”

She bent down to look at the items in the display case. “We should put out some more mini angel food cakes.”

I followed her into the kitchen to the corner where the drying racks sat patiently, holding trays of goodies waiting to be sold. “Maybe you don’t have a creative side. But you’re a good soundboard to bounce ideas with. You could help me find a decent idea to pitch to Marisol.”

Estere pulled a tray with the mini cakes she was looking for. She deftly hefted the tray onto her shoulder and walked back towards the open area. Silently she replaced the sold cakes with new ones from the tray. She paused to make sure each cake was straight and even before closing the door of the case. 

I pitched my last card. “You could come by my place if you want. I cooked.”

Just as I hoped, I saw her brow perk in interest. We walked back to place the rest of the cakes on the rack. “What you make?”

I smiled sweetly. Had her where I wanted her. “Honey garlic chicken strips.”

Her back was to me as she placed the tray back on the shelf they came from originally.  “I might have a couple of minutes to spare at the end of our shift…”

I squealed softly with joy as I hugged her from behind. 

“What have you come up with so far?” Estere asked from her spot on my couch a few hours later. An empty plate covered with the remains of her meal sat on the coffee table in front of her. 

I sat perched on the opposite end of the couch. In front of me was a collection of small journals, containing some of my favorite recipes, my cooking tips, my twists on classics, and the few recipes I actually invented. “Well, you know how everyone loves chocolate on Valentine’s Day?” Estere nodded. 

“Well, I think the best way to go is to not use chocolate in my idea.”

“But…isn’t the idea to do something that will draw customers?” Estere asked. 

I nodded. “Yeah, but we also want to do something new. Chocolate isn’t new.”

Estere shrugged. “True, but, there’s nothing wrong with sticking with some classic parts. I mean, I love my chocolate.”

“Yeah, but that might not be the same for everyone.” I countered as I flipped through one of my journals. Estere held her arms up in mock defeat but said nothing else.

“Ooh, you know what crossed my mind!” I exclaimed suddenly, glancing back at her. “Something fruity!”

Estere pursed her lips in thought. “That can work. Now, which fruit were you thinking of using.”

I smiled mischievously. “Mangoes.”

Estere’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Mangoes?”

“Yes!” I continued eagerly. “It’s new. It’s unexpected…”

“It might not be something that people will crave,” Estere interjected. She sat up and faced me. “What specifically are you thinking of making with mangoes?”

“A vanilla cake with a mango parfait filling. It’ll be sweet, tasty, and satisfying to the senses!”

Estere nodded. “That sounds nice. I still think using chocolate is a better move, but that’s my opinion.”

I stood up and made my way towards the kitchen. “Well Estere, you could always create your own recipe to pitch. I don’t understand why you don’t at least try.”

Estere paused for a moment. “Well, maybe I will.” She stood up and gave me a quick hug. “I’ll see you during my next shift. Good luck with everything!”

“Thanks!” I called out as she walked out of the door. I opened the cabinet containing my mixing bowls, then paused. I never considered Estere to be a problem or any real competition. Yet at that moment I felt a sense of dread overcome me. As if I might’ve stacked the cards against me in my own game. 

Two days later at my next shift, any sense of doubt was erased by my own achievement. I perfected my recipe for Marisol and had a sample to present to her. I knew the moment the combination of mango and vanilla hit Marisol’s tastebuds, it will soon hit the tastebuds of many customers. 

What happened that morning during the opening was nothing short of a straight sucker punch. 

It was the morning when we had our weekly staff meeting. Most of us were still sleepy-eyed and depending on cups of fresh coffee to sustain them, but our attention was grabbed once Marisol announced a winner of her Valentine’s confection project. 

“I loved this dessert for its surprise twist on a classic element. I’m sure this will draw in the customers.”

I felt my heart drop, then I glanced over at where Justin and Cheyenne were sitting with satisfied grins on their faces. 

“So everyone, join me in congratulating Estere and get a slice of her delicious chocolate raspberry layered cake!”

I flinched, my eyes darting immediately to Estere, who had an embarrassed expression on her face as the other employees gathered around to give congratulations and receive the offered pieces of cake. Based on the expressions on some of their faces after taking their first bites, Estere must have really outdone herself with her cake. 

I saw her face turned towards me, but before our eyes could lock I turned away and made my way to the kitchen, dropping my mango cake sample in the trashcan nearby. 

I’d love to say that eventually I accepted my defeat and congratulated Estere with the genuine happiness of a work colleague. However, I think you can imagine the opposite happened, and I handled it in the only mature way possible. 

I avoided her, and just about everyone in the shop. 

I made new merchandise. I iced mini cakes, cupcakes, and cookies. I refilled the display case and kept the coffee dripping and warm. Whenever Estere came near or attempted to talk, I made an excuse to walk away or tried to look as busy as possible. (Adding AirPods into my ears helped as well, though Cheyenne caught on that I wasn’t listening to anything). 

Before I knew it, a week had passed, as well as Valentine’s Day. Just as Marisol had hoped, Estere’s chocolate raspberry cake sold very well. (In fact, some of the merchandise that I had to constantly prepare was new orders of her cake). Customers were still coming in buying slices, even whole cakes.

A week’s worth of time had lessened some of the pain of being beaten, yet the sting still remained. I knew it wasn’t Estere’s fault, and that she wasn’t the type to try to plot against me. Now the only question remaining is, where do I go from here? Plus, is it possible for me to move past this to continue being Estere’s friend. 

The answer found a way to trap me. After clocking out for the day, Estere cornered me in the kitchen. 

“Ashlynn we need to talk,” she demanded, a determined look on her face. 

I sighed through my nose but looked into her eyes to show her that I was listening.

“Look, I never thought, or even wanted, my dessert to win over yours. I just went for it like you suggested. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, but that doesn’t mean you can just ignore me. Because if that’s the case, you might as well not work here.”

I nodded. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just needed to…lick my wounds. So to speak.”

Estere nodded, some of the fire from her stance being quenched. “So…we’re good.”

I nodded again. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Estere snorted. “Thanks. Nice to get that a whole week late!”

“I said I was licking my wounds!” I argued in mock defense. 

Estere laughed and rested her arms around my shoulder as we made our way out of the building towards the parking lot. “You know, your idea is still really good. Did you ever pitch it to Marisol?”

I shook my head. 

“Girl, don’t give up! I bet people will be in the mood for it now that spring is around the corner.”

I thought for a moment. “You think?”

Estere glanced at me. “It will only happen if you believe it could.”

I pondered Estere’s words, a smile playing on my lips. I took out my phone and sent a quick text to Marisol, asking her for time to meet tomorrow about a new idea for the shop.