The moment I steadied myself, I took a deep breath, trying to focus. The world around me was chaos a sea of frantic students grabbing, yelling, and colliding with one another.
But I had to block it all out. The timer on the wall read 1 hour and 12 minutes. That wasn't much time to craft perfection, but I had done this before.
I set my ingredients neatly on the cutting board: the tenderloin, the mushrooms, the prosciutto, and the puff pastry.
My fingers brushed over the garlic and thyme, and for a moment, I remembered the way my great-grandma Leora would hum while she cooked.
"Good food, Rhiannon," she'd say, her voice soft like a lullaby, "starts with good focus. Breathe, settle your mind, and let your hands guide you."
I exhaled and picked up the knife. The tenderloin needed trimming first, and my blade moved with practiced precision, slicing away the silver skin and extra fat.
