Magic Muggle Food Contest

 “But you absolutely must enter! I shall certainly do so. It should be quite enriching.”

“Corelia, be you sick in the head? An entire meal? With no magic? That cannot be possible!”

“What folly!”

Corelia sighed. Boys could be so exasperating. She and her three friends, Leonardo, Bartolommeo, and Angelo had been bickering for several minutes as they walked down the cobbled streets from their sorcery lesson. Their magic teacher, the most learned wizard in all of Italy, had presented them with a new challenge: to compete to prepare a delicious meal using no magic at all. She had expected that at least Bartolommeo, being the oldest and maturest amongst them (sixteen years old), would enter the contest. Trying new things was hardly a bad idea, in Corelia’s opinion.

“Boys like you are always over-exaggerating everything! Perhaps this won’t be as hard as you think.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” said Leonardo, youngest of the four and always a bit of a jokester. “You could easily fry anything on that flaming head of yours.”

Corelia flipped her red hair self-consciously.

“If we enter this foolish thing, will you cease your frivolous babblings?” said Bartolommeo.

“Yes, yes, so be it,” said Corelia, rolling her eyes.

The contest started one week later. Corelia’s parents were both fairly successful chefs, so she approached the cooking arena with confidence, whereas Leonardo, Bartolommeo, and Angelo were baffled by what they saw before them.

“They have everything!” exclaimed Corelia. “Fire pits, cooking pots, ingredients, utensils...”

“We are to build our own fire?!”

“What use are these?” said Angelo, holding up some flint and steel.

“What have you dragged us into?”

A bugle sounded. “Hear ye, hear ye!” The magic teacher was seated in front of the arena. “You shall have two hours to complete a delicious meal using no magic at all! I have assigned a trustworthy judge to inspect your completed products! Let the event begin!”

Corelia rushed toward a fire pit. Lying next to it was some flint and steel needed to light a fire. She smiled and immediately set to work. Soon the fire was blazing. Corelia ran to the receptacle where meat was kept and grabbed a slab of hamburger to cook.

The boys, however, were not doing so well. Bartolommeo was hitting together his flint and steel furiously, with no result. Angelo was hurriedly adding more and more sticks to his fire pit. Corelia caught Leonardo with his wand out, trying to surreptitiously light a fire with magic.

“Hey, no magic!” Leonardo jumped. Upon seeing her, he grinned sheepishly. “Look,” said Corelia. “This is how you do it.” She grabbed Leonardo’s flint and steel. “You strike these together, like this, over the wood. It makes a spark, which sets it aflame,” she explained, demonstrating as she went.

“Thanks.”

She smiled amusedly and went back to work.

“Yes!” Angelo looked proudly at his fire. After struggling for several minutes, he had finally figured out how to use his flint and steel to light the wood.

Hmmm… Now what?

Angelo sat by his fire and thought. He had a fire, but what now? What was he to make?

He got up. His father had told him once before to trust his instincts when all else failed. So he would do whatever random thing popped into his head. Perhaps it would work.

Corelia’s meat was nearly finished. She mixed a dough to make noodles and looked over to see how the others were doing. She heard Bartolommeo swear and saw him frantically ripping off his apron, which was on fire.

“Are you in need of assistance?” she asked him.

“No,” he said indignantly.

She raised an eyebrow at him and turned away.

Leonardo’s meat was burning. He had put it straight in the fire, with no cooking pot, and now realized that he could not get it back out without burning his hands. In a panic, he tore through the cooking arena in search of a tool that could help him.

Finally, he came upon some tongs. After spending three minutes learning how to use them (Bartolommeo sniggered at this, being a blacksmith’s son and having more experience with simple things like tongs), he quickly pulled out his meat, which was now blackened and covered with ash. He let out a frustrated huff and glanced over to where Corelia was.

She was doing very well. She had two fires going, one for her meat and the other for noodles. She was now chopping some vegetables.

Leonardo discarded his ash-covered steak and hastened to copy what Corelia was doing.

One hour had passed. Corelia was shaping her cooked hamburger into perfect, round little balls. Leonardo was feverishly cutting dough into noodles. Bartolommeo was throwing away lasagna that looked more like a strip of rubber with chunks of tomato and cheese on top. Angelo, however, had made something very odd-looking. It was a circle of dough with tomato sauce smothered all over it. He was now topping it with cheese, peppers, and little round pieces of meat.

Corelia took her noodles out of the fire and placed them in a wooden bowl. She made a tomato sauce and carefully spread it over the noodles. Then, she added her chopped up vegetables and meatballs and mixed them together.

“RRGH!” Bartolommeo swore as he dropped a plateful of potatoes into his fire. Time was running out and he had nothing to present to the judges.

Corelia finished her meal with time to spare. Using leftover scraps from her noodles, she decided to add a slice of garlic bread to round off her dish. When they were finished, she stepped back to admire her work. It certainly looked delicious.

Suddenly, she had an idea. Mother always told her that a good garnish could work wonders. She ran to the herb rack and grabbed a handful of parsley. Just as she laid the sprigs on the plate, a bugle sounded.

Judging time.

The four contestants walked up to the judge. Bartolommeo, it seemed, had completely given up. Stepping forward, he presented his repugnant dish.

“My haggis,” he said. Corelia stifled a snort with difficulty.

The judge gave him a disgusted look and began to eat. With the first bite, he gagged and spat onto the ground.

“It’s revolting!” he exclaimed. “Uuugh. I think I may be sick.” He drank deeply from his goblet, then said, “Bring me the next dish, and may the Lord have mercy on me this time.”

Bartolommeo stepped back, looking very sullen indeed.

Leonardo brought forward his plate. “It’s, erm, spaghetti. Yeah.”

The judge raised his eyebrows skeptically at the undercooked noodles and began to eat. It was obvious that he was not impressed. “Well, at least it was not so dreadful as the haggis.”

Corelia smiled smugly at the boys and stepped forward. “This is a spaghetti pasta primavera, with garlic bread.”

The judge took a few bites and gave her an approving nod.

Angelo went last. “I’ve prepared this,” he said, gesturing toward his strange food. It appeared to be a circle of dough with tomato sauce, peppers, meat, and cheese piled on top.

“Indeed,” said the judge, puzzled. “What… What exactly is it?”

“Err… It’s an original creation of my own.”

“I see.”

The judge took a bite. As he chewed, his eyes widened with delight. “By gar!” he shouted. “This is wonderful! Spectacular! What will you call this amazing creation of yours, lad?”

Angelo’s face lit up. He thought for a moment.

“Pizza.”