That would do. Original or what. Rose petals. Blinis made from rose petals. She pulled a handful form the box and sniffed them.

“How much?” she asked the stall-holder.

“Five dollars an ounce,” he replied.

She breathed in again, savouring the subtle perfume of these delicate white leaves. Just the sort of exquisiteness she craved in everything. 

“An ounce goes a long way, you know,” said the stall holder.

“Mm,” she replied. “I know. I’ll take them. Just weigh me a big bag full.”

She bought some haricots from another stall, some freshly cured bacon and some breast of organic duck from another. She found a few ripe plum tomatoes. Then there was the fresh peaches and the ricotta, all the way from Italy. Finally she found a stall selling quail’s eggs. This was going to be the brunch to end all brunches.

The rosewater she had to get from the delicatessen on the town square. The sun reflected off the door as she walked in and she had to shut her eyes. She could just see it. There would be that moment, after the judges had tasted the food and she and the other two contestants would be sitting on the sofa, awaiting the verdict.

They would make their comments abut everyone’s food – good points and bad – and of course they would love her blinis, her homemade sausage and her light peach and ricotta tart.

“The winner is,” the older guy with the balding head would say – it would be him wouldn’t it and not the other one with the bushy white beard? – “Miss Pamela Sylvester.”

She practiced for weeks. Were the blinis a bit too stodgy? A little less flour then. And was the sauce a little too sweet – well a maybe it need a touch of lemon juice, but don’t make it too tart. The crust on the peach tart was a little soft. Bake it a few moments longer, then.

“Miss Sylvester, you did very well,” said the guy with the bushy white beard, “on the food identification test.”

“Tell us then,” said man with the balding head, “are you passionate enough to win this competition?”

“Oh, I thrive on competition,” replied Pam. “And I work well under pressure.” She noticed that both men were frowning slightly. “And I adore working with food,” she remembered to gush.