Love at 350°

Informationen zum Autor Lisa Peers Klappentext Includes recipes and a Q&A with the author. Leseprobe I Tori Moore scanned her classroom, checking her fifth-­period Biochemistry of Baking students' progress. Three of Sequoia High's star football players were pulverizing dry ice in a blender ahead of mixing it into their strawberry and chocolate bases to fast freeze the ice cream. Another team hovered around a saucepan, willing a cup of caramel sauce into existence out of white sugar, water, kosher salt, and immense patience. Some students were candying walnuts; others were making marshmallow fluff. A pair of ambitious sophomores were attempting to make a homegrown version of M&M's. Each student had already written a term paper describing the chemical reactions and biodiversity that conjured the magic of dessert. At the end of today's class­if all went well­they'd get to eat their homework. All that stood between them and summer vacation was making ice cream sundaes. With all the ingredients made from scratch. Oh, sugar, she heard one of the football players mutter as his blender stalled. Whenever Tori heard an outburst like that, she smiled. It meant that the fifteen teenagers, who could have easily spent the period gossiping or chucking chocolate chips at one another, were concentrating completely on their final exam. It also meant her students respected her enough to follow her rules; namely, that when they got stuck, literally or figuratively, they could swear as loudly as they wanted as long as they used baking terms. Her personal favorites from this semester's class were Lamination! and Choux! Crouching down to use the classroom's paper towel dispenser as a mirror, Tori took a minute to freshen up. She adjusted the green-­and-­gold paisley scarf she'd received as a present from a student last Christmas, which she wore often because it amplified her hazel eyes, and corralled her thick hair into a ponytail, making a mental note to book a cut and color appointment since the gray hairs were infiltrating the strawberry blonde again. She also confirmed that she didn't have cocoa powder mixed in with the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Standing back up, she brushed a smudge of brown sugar off her hip and turned her attention to her students. Ten minutes, folks! Tori's co-­teacher, Della DeMarco, warned the students. Her update was met by a chorus of groans and barked orders to fellow teammates. Dude, we need more CO2. The strawberry ice cream is soup! No, no, no, don't let the sugar crystallize! Hold the candy still, Katy. The M s are blurry! Tori caught Della's eye: They were both beaming with pride. Della was the Skills for Living teacher, and they'd developed this curriculum together a few years back based on a conversation they'd had during their shared lunch break. I'm sick of kids thinking my class is the same old-­timey, prim Home Ec where their grandmothers sewed aprons decades ago, Della had said, taking a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and leaving a ring of coral lipstick on the white bread. I got into this field because I want kids to learn how to take care of themselves. Be self-­sufficient, manage their money, set some goals. She'd adjusted her cat-­eye glasses and leaned in. You know, they used to call this Domestic Science for a reason. Now, kids blow it off as an easy A and barely try. I know what you mean, Tori had said, unwrapping her caprese sandwich. They take my chemistry class to get into college, but a lot of them think they'll never use the information again, so they do the bare minimum. I wish we weren't so tied to the textbook. Della's dark eyes focused on Tori's sandwich. Wow, that looks delicious. Here, Tori said, tearing off a piece to share. Did you make the focaccia? Last ni...

Autorentext

Lisa Peers

Klappentext

*“Scrumptiously entertaining . . . Fans of a certain popular British baking show will be giddy with delight.”—Booklist*
 
When two women meet as judge and contestant on the set of a TV baking competition, they must decide what they’re willing to risk for the ultimate prize in this wholesome and delectable debut.

LAMBDA LITERARY AWARD FINALIST • A POPSUGAR BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR

Food is their love language, but can they follow a recipe for romance?

Tori Moore, high school chemistry teacher, avid home baker, and soon-to-be empty nester, auditions for the American Bake-o-Rama TV competition at the urging of her twin teenagers. The prize money could allow her to finally open her own bakery, but plagued by self-doubt after a messy divorce, it’s not only money standing between Tori and her dreams.
 
Once on set in Sonoma wine country, Tori catches the eye of Kendra Campbell, the notoriously ruthless celebrity chef and Bake-o-Rama judge. This show is Kendra’s ticket to financial security, but she’s been told to soften her approach for viewers seeking feel-good entertainment—quite the task after years of fighting for space in a male-dominated industry.
 
Tori and Kendra find it increasingly hard to keep their distance through six slow-burn weeks of cooking challenges and kitchen disasters. For both, the best prize of all might just be love.

Leseprobe
I

Tori Moore scanned her classroom, checking her fifth-­period Biochemistry of Baking students’ progress. Three of Sequoia High’s star football players were pulverizing dry ice in a blender ahead of mixing it into their strawberry and chocolate bases to fast freeze the ice cream. Another team hovered around a saucepan, willing a cup of caramel sauce into existence out of white sugar, water, kosher salt, and immense patience. Some students were candying walnuts; others were making marshmallow fluff. A pair of ambitious sophomores were attempting to make a homegrown version of M&M’s. Each student had already written a term paper describing the chemical reactions and biodiversity that conjured the magic of dessert. At the end of today’s class—­if all went well—­they’d get to eat their homework. All that stood between them and summer vacation was making ice cream sundaes. With all the ingredients made from scratch.

“Oh, sugar,” she heard one of the football players mutter as his blender stalled. Whenever Tori heard an outburst like that, she smiled. It meant that the fifteen teenagers, who could have easily spent the period gossiping or chucking chocolate chips at one another, were concentrating completely on their final exam.

It also meant her students respected her enough to follow her rules; namely, that when they got stuck, literally or figuratively, they could swear as loudly as they wanted as long as they used baking terms. Her personal favorites from this semester’s class were Lamination! and Choux!

Crouching down to use the classroom’s paper towel dispenser as a mirror, Tori took a minute to freshen up. She adjusted the green-­and-­gold paisley scarf she’d received as a present from a student last Christmas, which she wore often because it amplified her hazel eyes, and corralled her thick hair into a ponytail, making a mental note to book a cut and color appointment since the gray hairs were infiltrating the strawberry blonde again. She also confirmed that she didn’t have cocoa powder mixed in with the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Standing back up, she brushed a smudge of brown sugar off her hip and turned her attention to her students.

“Ten minutes, folks!” Tori’s co-­teacher, Della DeMarco, warned the students. Her update was met by a chorus of groans and barked orders to fellow teammates.

“Dude, we need more CO2. The strawberry ice cream is soup!”

“No, no, no, don’t let the sugar crystallize!…