Excitement was one of many emotions I was feeling as I headed to the MasterChef competition in NYC.  In my rental car, exhausted on only four hours of sleep, I had nothing better to do but drive and think.

I didn’t care about winning.  Living a very public “celebrity” life did not appeal to me and would not be in my best interest.  However, I do enjoy exciting new experiences that I can talk about – and competing for MasterChef had a potential for many new adventures.

I was in it for the fun and for the story.

I planned and prepared for the trip, starting with the design of my plate and ending with managing my own expectations.

Sketch of my plate.

The rules for entering were quite open for interpretation, which means there was a good chance that I wasn’t even qualified to participate.  Technically, applicants could not be professional chefs.  The rules mentioned working in a professional restaurant kitchen – which I had not.  I could not be a caterer – which I am not.  Nothing said about personal chefs!

Life taught me that rules aren’t always adhered to – if I had that “it” factor, I’m sure nothing would keep the producers from selecting me.  I’ll tell you right now though (lol) – I do not have that factor.  I might be interesting at best, but not the type of person to put on television.

This was my third trip to NYC, my first trip alone.  The first was as a passenger in a car headed to a rave with a bunch of young 20-somethings.  The second time was a 2-day trip with my daughter on the eve of Christmas.  It was a memorable, cold, and beautiful trip.  My daughter with me made it special.

First attempt practicing plating.

Contestants were to bring a prepared dish to the contest.  It could not be reheated and it could not be prepared at the event.  I planned well and packed everything that I needed, including equipment that I was hoping to use in my car in NYC to prepare the meal.  That equipment never did work for a few reasons, which didn’t phase me.  I always come with a backup plan.

It was the break of dawn when I arrived and the streets of the City were bare, peppered with stragglers here and there.  Dawn is always my favorite time of the day in any city, especially New York, DC, Rome and Florence, Italy.  Humans ruin the silence.

I rented a parking spot four blocks away from the hotel where the contest was being held.  Four blocks is a far distance when you’re carrying two heavy bags, though it was fine and I enjoyed the stroll.

I found myself at Times Square and stopped at a restaurant nearby the hotel for a liquid brunch before walking into the contest.  Lovely restaurant.  The female bartenders like wearing their button-down shirts unbuttoned and widely open.  I enjoyed the atmosphere!

Second plating, practice.

I won’t go through every detail of the experience leading up to the actual food tasting.  The contest was open from 8 am until 5pm, though some applicants were invited to a special early timeslot in the judging cycle (I was one of them).  There was A LOT of people and everyone was proud of their cooking.  I was skeptical of some of the dishes that I heard about from the contestants and did my best to stay mum because everyone thinks they’re a winner (including myself).

From an administrative point of view, it was a very large event moving people from room to room.  I waited for no more than a couple of hours with tons of people to chat with during the time.  Mostly NY locals, I was probably the only contestant in my immediate vicinity that travelled the distance that I did.

MasterChef response page.

Tasting time!  I was in a group of about 30 people who went into the judging room.  No cameras, no pictures, no recordings.  We were allowed to set out our supplies needed to plate our food – short of plating our food.  The judges gave us warning – and then it was a go!  We had a short time to plate our food and my plate turned out exactly as I wanted it to.

We had plenty of time to look around the room at everyone’s plated food.  The neighbor to my right had crab-cakes that she made with crushed Ritz crackers.  The plate looked like something you’d get at a dive bar.  I was proud of my dish and all that I cared about was the judge that would be tasting my food.

It took her about 15 minutes to make her way to my table.  I only needed a half-second of her time.  I needed to see her non-verbal reaction to my food.  I was presenting halibut fish on a bed of spicy cucumber sauce with sweet lemon curd to offset the heat and pair nicely in flavor, with rolled stuffed zucchini salad.  It was amazing.

The judge enjoyed my flavors.

She asked me questions, took notes, and left.

After the food was tasted, we were told that we’d be notified by November if we were selected to move forward in the competition – which also was our cue to pack up and left the room.

Waiting to be called for judging.

At this point, I was ecstatic.  The judge gave me what I wanted: validation from a professional that I can not only cook, but that I am a GOOD cook.  Validation, frankly, that I didn’t need because I already know how I feel about my skills as a chef.  I wanted it because I will always have that response to my food etched in my brain.  What I was after could not be bought – only earned.

I found myself back on Times Square staring at a sea of people.  At this point it was around 1pm and I was starving for food and drink.  I enjoyed myself again at the same restaurant from earlier before walking back to my car and heading home.

I felt accomplished.  There’s not a better feeling for an achiever than accomplishment.  The long drive back was one filled with happiness and joy…and confidence.