Page 44 of The Catch

"Great. Listen." He smiles. "The vibe for this show is to make viewers feel like they're in your kitchen with you. Like they're your guests. Like you're theitcouple, so happy to be hosting for your first Christmas as, say, newlyweds. The same kind of interaction you were up to just now— maybe tone it down a notch to keep it family-friendly— but that general energy. Yeah?"

Ames steals a glance at me, but talks to the producer. "Uhm, we're not together."

"Oh— okay. Could have fooled me but— that's fine. Viewers won't know that, right? The point isthe vibe. That they can believe the fantasy for an hour."

Ames and I exchange a look. Her deep, brown eyes tell me she's worried. Disappointment feathers through me, that the moment is over and already something she can't fathom with me.

Mark catches the shift inthe vibebetween us and lifts his hands in a calming gesture. "You don't have to force anything. Just be yourselves and have fun. All I'm saying is show you've known each other for years. Let yourselves be swept up by the magic of the season. Itwill be great."

Eventually, we nod.

Mark points at the oven, the fridge, the pantry. "We did all the prep you requested, Amelia. Otherwise, just cook, chat, be friendly. We will film until you're done cooking, then pretend to sit and eat. This will likely be three to five hours, which will be edited down to one hour. Any questions?"

We shake our heads.

"The director and I may give small notes here and there," he says. "Cues to talk about the charity, other content we're looking for. Our directions will be edited out of course, so act like no one else can hear what I'm saying, and ignore the cameras."

"Sounds good," I say.

"Great. Let's get started, shall we?"

Mark steps behind the cameras. The director tells us to get comfortable and start cooking, and reminds us to talk about the food we're making.

I start by making a simple sheet cake with eggs, flour, sugar, and honey. Ames prepares a dish she calls lechón. She puts it in one oven while I put the cake in another.

"Now what, chef?" I ask.

"You don't have to call me chef." She smiles. "Let's make the picada now. That's what we call a charcuterie board in Uruguay."

We cut cured meats, cheese, and fruit.

"What do you call these in Colombia?" Ames asks.

"Picadera. They're a bit different. They have arepas, for example. I should make some for you one day."

"I'd love that."

"One day I'll make you arepas con queso for breakfast, too. Lots of butter. Maybe even a fried egg." I moan just thinking about it. "I could make it for you on a Tuesday— that's our day off— or during the off season."

I place the picada to the side, deeming it ready. I steal a grape and smile at Ames.

She smiles back. "You're going to make me breakfast?"

"Brunch. It's my favorite meal of the day."

"Deal. Now help me prepare the ingredients for a pionono. The cake will be done soon, and I want to be able to roll it while it's still warm."

We collect and prepare the fillings for the savory cake roll. Lettuce, cheese, tomato, hearts of palm, and boiled egg cut into slices. We set them on their own dish, and line them up at the front of the kitchen island, closer to the cameras.

The cake is ready and I take it out from the oven and onto a cooling rack. "Why is it better to roll it while it's warm?"

"It makes it easier, as the proteins are still flexible. We're going to use a clean dishcloth as well to help."

"Yes, chef."

"Stop," she laughs. "This isn't a professional kitchen and I'm not your boss."

"But I like getting instructions. Should I say, 'Yes, ma'am' instead?"