Fabulous Feast Read online

  ‘Then for the good of all of us I think it’s best you tell him,’ said Anna. ‘And stop eating grass.’

  ‘Do you think?’ asked Mrs Horntop.

  ‘Yes I do,’ said Anna firmly.

  15

  The Warm-Up

  Late in the afternoon, the three competing chefs gathered at Hotel Flamingo. They all carried their own ingredients and kitchen implements, holding them close to their chests.

  ‘Here are the rules,’ said Anna. ‘You will cook three courses: one starter, one main and one pudding. The judge’s decision is final.’

  ‘Who is the judge?’ asked Peston Crumbletart, the huge cat chef.

  ‘His name is Mr Grayson,’ said Anna.

  The three chefs looked lost for words. Grayson’s reputation was fierce.

  ‘I don’t think he even likes food!’ said Toot-Toot the hedgehog.

  Peston Crumbletart twirled his whiskers. ‘You sound scared,’ he said.

  ‘NO!’ said Toot-Toot, spitting on the ground. ‘I am not scared.’

  Madame Le Pig remained silent, and Anna looked at her nervously, hoping she was all right.

  ‘Mr Grayson is the best there is,’ said Anna. ‘He will be fair, I know it. Now, if you all want to make your way downstairs, you can get a feel for the kitchens.’

  Despite Peston Crumbletart’s best attempts at belittling the stage, even he was impressed.

  ‘It’s cleaner than I imagined it would be,’ he said, arranging his ingredients and pans around the worktop.

  ‘Not a patch on the Glitz,’ said Toot-Toot. The hedgehog had a special range of implements branded with his name. He laid them out in size order alongside the oven.

  Madame Le Pig shuffled back and forth in a way that was most unlike her.

  ‘Is everything all right for you?’ asked Anna.

  ‘There is heat; there are ingredients. I am fine,’ she said.

  ‘As long as you are OK,’ said Anna.

  ‘I am,’ she snorted. ‘I do not need special treatment.’

  ‘Then if everyone is happy,’ said Anna, ‘it’s time to leave the stage. The guests will be arriving soon.’

  She led the chefs through to a spare room beside the ballroom, and returned to the lobby, where guests had started to gather. There was a thrilling air of excitement, and lots of talk about what the chefs might be cooking.

  Anna found Lemmy at the desk.

  ‘Any more cowpats?’ she asked.

  ‘Not that I’ve found,’ he said. ‘What did you say to them?’

  Anna paused, thinking that no one else needed to know about Mrs Horntop. ‘It was just a misunderstanding,’ she said. ‘They do things quite differently where they’re from.’

  ‘Oh, good!’ said Lemmy. ‘That could have been really awkward.’

  ‘Yes it could,’ agreed Anna.

  And with that she went and sat in her office and read through her introductions for the competition. There was now a lot more at stake than Anna had bargained for. She drew a deep breath and steeled herself.

  16

  Return of the Cat

  ‘We meet again,’ said the hotel inspector. Dressed in a raincoat and carrying a briefcase, Mr Grayson seemed pleased to be back.

  T. Bear shook Mr Grayson’s paw. ‘Thank you for coming,’ he said.

  ‘Who could resist an opportunity to eat food by the three best chefs on Animal Boulevard?’ said Mr Grayson.

  ‘Good evening, sir!’ said Anna, hurrying over. ‘We’re all ready, if you’ll come through to the ballroom.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ said Mr Grayson.

  She showed him downstairs. Guests were already at their tables, enjoying the occasion, and there was a real excitement in the air. Anna placed Mr Grayson at his own table alongside the stage and Mr Ruffian, who watched on gleefully. The Horntops were there, chewing away on a packet of grass-free meadow snacks, as were Simon Suckerlot and Sorrel and Rosie Goat. And they were all counting down the minutes to the start.

  Alfonso and Ms Fragranti sat together at the back of the room alongside T. Bear. They cheered as Anna took to the stage.

  ‘Welcome to Hotel Flamingo for our Battle of the Chefs!’ Anna announced.

  The crowd whooped and hollered, and Anna gave T. Bear the nod. He switched on the music, and a loud rock song by The Nocturnal Animals burst out of the speakers.

  ‘Introducing one of the finest chefs of his generation …’ said Anna, ‘PESTON CRUMBLETART!’

  The huge cat jogged into the ballroom, swinging his arms around. His apron flapped as he leapt on to the stage and bowed. He took his position at his bench.

  ‘And now,’ said Anna, ‘fresh from the Glitz … Laurence Toot-Toot!’

  Toot-Toot strode into the ballroom, dressed in his signature black outfit. He lifted his paws, willing the audience to give him even more applause. They roared louder as he clambered on to the stage and found his bench. He slammed a chopper into the chopping board. Toot-Toot meant business.

  ‘And finally!’ said Anna. ‘Hot from the kitchens of Hotel Flamingo … Madame Le Pig!’

  The music boomed louder. The applause became deafening. But Madame Le Pig did not appear.

  ‘Um …’ said Anna. Her eyes darted across the room, skipping left to right in search of her chef. Her stomach turned over, and a wave of fear and sickness crept through her body. What if Madame Le Pig was having one of her moments?

  Anna tried again. ‘Let me present … Madame Le Pig!’

  The door opened with a squeal, and finally Madame Le Pig ventured out. But all was not well and Anna could see it. Despite the roar of the crowd, Le Pig looked unhappy as she trod uneasily across the ballroom.

  She stepped up on to the stage, turned briefly to the crowd and all the colour drained from her face. She gulped, clenched her trotters and raced from the ballroom.

  ‘Madame?’ said Anna.

  The crowd fell silent. Mr Ruffian looked immensely pleased with himself as Anna grew increasingly uncomfortable on stage.

  ‘Leave it to me, darling!’ said Ms Fragranti. She danced out of the ballroom, past Alfonso, and found Madame Le Pig nearby, shivering in the corridor.

  ‘What’s wrong, my friend?’ she asked.

  ‘This!’ said Madame Le Pig. ‘This is all wrong! I should never have agreed to it.’

  ‘Madame Le Pig,’ Ms Fragranti said, ‘you are the best chef there is. And that is your crowd. They’re here to see you.’

  ‘I know that,’ she replied through a grimace. ‘But I cannot go on the stage. I CANNOT!’

  Ms Fragranti could see she was suffering from stage fright, just like Alfonso.

  ‘I can help you,’ she said.

  ‘NO ONE CAN HELP ME!’ squealed Le Pig.

  Madame Le Pig held up her trotters, which were shaking violently. ‘I cannot cook with these things!’ she snorted. ‘They are only good for whisking eggs!’

  ‘Then whisk eggs, darling,’ said Ms Fragranti. ‘I know how good you are; you know how good you are. Don’t let anything stop other people seeing it.’

  ‘But I always cook alone!’ she said. ‘Not in front of a million creatures.’

  ‘Just imagine the crowd aren’t wearing any clothes,’ said Ms Fragranti. ‘That’s how I do it.’

  Madame Le Pig’s snout screwed up. ‘URGH!’ she squealed. ‘That would be horrible!’

  ‘WAIT!’ said Ms Fragranti. ‘Listen.’

  The crowd were chanting ‘Le Pig! Le Pig!’ over and over.

  ‘They are your people. They love you,’ said the flamingo. ‘Madame Le Pig, you are AMAZING.’

  Madame Le Pig took a deep breath and listened to the crowd. Something stirred deep down inside her.

  ‘I am AMAZING,’ she said, colour returning to her cheeks.

  ‘You are the best!’ said Ms Fragranti.

  The chef’s trotters stopped shaking. Steam rocketed from her snout.

  ‘I AM THE BEST!’ she squealed.

  ‘And are you ready to coo
k?’

  ‘I AM READY!’ cried the pig.

  And with that she stomped off into the ballroom. The cheers rang out. Anna’s fear-filled face lightened into a smile, and the Battle of the Chefs had begun.

  17

  For Starters

  With an air of solid concentration and intense creativity Madame Le Pig, Peston Crumbletart and Toot-Toot locked horns in combat.

  ‘And to begin,’ announced Anna, ‘we have the starters!’

  She walked across the stage to Madame Le Pig, who had been feverishly chopping, trimming, dipping and broiling. Sweat dripped from her snout under the glaring lights. With a slam of her trotter she presented her dish.

  ‘Roasted fleas with a tart redcurrant sauce!’ announced Madame Le Pig triumphantly.

  The crowd clapped as Eva ran across the stage, picked up the plate and delivered it to Mr Grayson.

  Anna stepped sideways to Peston Crumbletart, who had been peeling, blanching, baking and grilling with such precision that he looked in complete control. He loaded food on to a plate, then set alight a tiny jug of liquid. The smell of the sea floated across the ballroom and the crowd went wild.

  ‘Crunchy krill crackers with a spicy chilli dip and seaweed drift!’ declared Peston Crumbletart.

  Eva Koala returned for the second dish, and Anna moved on to Toot-Toot. He grated, seared, oiled and sizzled with the flourish of a dancer. When the food was ready he spun and leapt into the air.

  ‘Wilted fragrant leaves with a gritty mud dressing!’ he cried.

  The crowd clapped again, and Eva removed the plate.

  The crowd hushed as Mr Grayson tasted and tested each dish. He made notes in a little book. Once finished, he passed the plates back to Eva.

  ‘Would anyone like to try the dishes?’ asked Anna.

  Everyone in the room cried out for a taste, and Eva did her best to distribute them in tiny taster pots.

  While the chefs took a five-minute break, Hilary ran on to the stage and swept the floor before wiping the worktops clean, refreshing them for the second round.

  ‘Do we have a winner for the first round?’ asked Anna.

  Mr Grayson nodded. He had three cards in front of him, each bearing the photo of a chef. He lifted that of Peston Crumbletart.

  ‘Peston Crumbletart takes the lead!’ announced Anna.

  Although cheers reverberated around the room, the crowd were divided.

  Mrs Horntop rose from her seat. ‘The fleas should have won,’ she stated angrily. ‘They were easily the tastiest, weren’t they, Norman?’

  ‘Aye, that’s right, Petal,’ said Norman.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Horntop,’ said Anna, calling the chefs back on stage.

  Peston strode on, twirling his whiskers. He was loving this.

  ‘And, next up, we have the main courses!’ said Anna. ‘Are you ready? Then begin!’

  The chefs were straight back to the chopping boards, working with speed and authority. This time, Anna approached Toot-Toot first. He spun a plate on his fingertips before placing it on to the worktop.

  ‘Curried twig sticks with a minty yoghurt dip!’ yapped Toot-Toot.

  ‘Remarkable!’ said Anna, as Eva picked up the dish and delivered it to Mr Grayson.

  Peston Crumbletart stirred a pan with speed, whipping up a bubbling froth before pouring it over the dish.

  ‘Diced carrot and cashew nut roast with a delicate fruit froth!’ he said, stepping back triumphantly, his paws raised in celebration.

  Eva took the meal to Mr Grayson, and Anna returned to Madame Le Pig. Anna gave her a smile, silently willing her on. With a sizzling red sauce swirled around the plate, Madame Le Pig’s meal was complete.

  ‘Battered broccoli and mushroom risotto with a sticky date sauce!’ she said, punching her trotter into the air.

  Eva took the plate to Mr Grayson, and with all the mains now in front of him he picked up a fork and dug into each one.

  ‘Amazing scenes here,’ said Anna into the microphone, as Mr Grayson made notes.

  He finally came to a decision, and lowered his paws to the cards. He lifted Toot-Toot’s face above his head.

  ‘And Toot-Toot takes the second round!’ said Anna, nerves racing through her now like never before.

  Anna could see Madame Le Pig was struggling to come to terms with being last. As the chefs went off for another break and Hilary cleaned up, Anna approached her to give her some support.

  ‘Win the dessert round and it’s a tie,’ she said positively.

  ‘I have planned all the wrong meals!’ said Le Pig. ‘ACH! I should have cooked what I know.’

  ‘Just cook your favourite dish,’ said Anna. ‘The one that everyone knows you for. The one that everyone loves.’

  Madame Le Pig sniffed in agreement. ‘I shall try,’ she said, finding some resolve. ‘NO! I SHALL DO!’

  18

  Just Desserts

  The final round was under way. Madame Le Pig scrambled through her box for everything she needed for the dessert. But something was missing. She pulled Anna to one side of the stage. The other chefs noticed something was up, but they were against the clock. They couldn’t let it bother them.

  ‘Seaweed salt,’ said Madame Le Pig. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Anna.

  ‘Someone has been in my things! It is missing!’ said Le Pig.

  ‘Do you need it?’ asked Anna.

  ‘OF COURSE I NEED IT!’ blasted Madame Le Pig.

  Lemmy raced over from the side of the ballroom. Peston growled as he neared.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Lemmy.

  Anna shielded her mouth. ‘Her seaweed salt’s gone missing,’ she said.

  Lemmy’s ears drooped, but he knew honesty was always the best policy.

  ‘Oh,’ he mumbled. ‘That might be my fault.’

  ‘What?’ asked Anna.

  ‘I needed it to make the octopus’s bathwater salty,’ he said.

  ‘You did what?!!’ screamed Madame Le Pig. ‘That salt is the most expensive on the planet!’

  ‘Simon was really happy,’ said Lemmy. ‘It was a life-or-death situation.’

  ‘Here,’ growled Peston Crumbletart. He slid a bag of salt over on to Madame Le Pig’s worktop. ‘Your nonsense is breaking my concentration.’

  ‘I cannot use this rubbish!’ said Madame Le Pig. ‘It needs to be seaweed salt!’

  Peston shrugged. ‘Don’t use it then,’ he said. ‘See how the judge reacts to badly seasoned scones.’

  Madame Le Pig turned her nose up, but gripped the salt. ‘I have no choice,’ she said angrily.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Lemmy.

  ‘If it was life or death,’ said Le Pig, ‘then I cannot argue. Now leave me to cook!’

  The chefs cooked on, with the crowd growing rowdier with each passing minute. Peston completed his dish first.

  ‘Erupting chocolate volcano in a mound of frozen berries!’ he cried. He tipped a tiny spoonful of powder into the dish, and chocolate oozed upwards. The crowd couldn’t cope with such magic. Mrs Horntop passed out at its brilliance.

  Eva carried it to Mr Grayson, splurts of chocolate landing on her nose. She happily licked them off.

  Next up was Toot-Toot. With a plate laid out ready, he threw a pear into the air and, as it fell, chopped it into ridiculously thin slices. They landed perfectly aligned on the plate.

  ‘Crunchy cinnamon biscuit, dipped in crackling sherbet with a sweet pear topping!’ he announced.

  The crowd loved that one even more than the chocolate volcano. The plate was carried off to Mr Grayson, and Anna stepped across to the final dessert, that of Madame Le Pig’s.

  She carefully positioned a plateful of cakes on to a tray, and added a pot of jam next to it. There was no showing off needed.

  ‘And our final dish of the battle,’ said Anna.

  ‘My famous squid scones with seaweed jam,’ said Madame Le Pig. ‘The Queen Penguin’s favourite dish!’
r />   The crowd roared, as though hearing a favourite song come on the radio, and Eva carried the final dish across to Mr Grayson.

  The three chefs removed their aprons and placed them on the worktops, and Hilary quickly cleaned the area.

  Mr Grayson asked for a moment’s silence to deliberate, and the crowd obeyed. He scribbled a few final notes, tasted the food a second time, and put his pen down.

  ‘I have made my decision,’ said Mr Grayson. ‘Chefs, would you like to come out front?’

  The chefs walked to the front of the stage dutifully. Anna passed the judge the microphone and took a step back.

  ‘Frankly,’ said Mr Grayson, without expression, ‘I have never tasted better food than I have tonight. But I know you need a winner. So, the winner is …’

  He waited.

  ‘Hurry up!’ snorted Madame Le Pig.

  And waited.

  And …

  19

  The Final Decision

  Mr Grayson lifted the card bearing the winner of the final round.

  ‘Peston Crumbletart has made the best dessert!’ he said, and the room erupted just like his chocolate volcano. ‘Which makes him the greatest chef on Animal Boulevard!’

  Madame Le Pig’s snout dropped low in disappointment. Anna’s heart cracked in two.

  Mr Ruffian booed loudly. ‘Rubbish!’ he roared. ‘Toot-Toot is clearly the greatest chef!’

  ‘I disagree,’ said Mr Grayson. ‘Every chef here is excellent in their own special way. Tonight, however, Peston’s dishes were a little more fragrant, a touch sweeter, and a hint more original. And now every guest can come and taste them.’

  As the crowd cheered again, Anna put her arm round Madame Le Pig, consoling her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I think your food is the greatest. We all do here at Hotel Flamingo. And prizes aren’t everything. I know that now. This whole competition has been good for the hotel, but not for you.’