The roar of the crowd faded from Vincent's mind. For him, there was only the station, the ingredients, and the ticking clock overhead. He took a deep breath and got to work.
First, the patty.
He poured ground beef into a steel bowl, sprinkling in salt, black pepper, and garlic powder. Then, he ground fresh truffle into a dark paste and folded it into the meat until the aroma seeped into every fiber. The smell was strong, earthy, and rich. He shaped the mixture into thick, even patties, pressing the edges tight so they wouldn't crumble.
The patties hit a buttered pan with a violent hiss—SSSHHH! The crust began to form instantly, golden and crisp. Vincent pressed gently, letting the butter baste upward as the fragrance wafted across the arena.
"Look at that sear!" the host boomed, striding past Vincent's station. "Chef Vincent's going bold with truffle beef patties—something fit for a king's table!"
One of the judges, the celebrity chef, Emilia Rojas, leaned forward. "Risky. Truffle can overpower if mishandled."
"Or," judge Lionel Ashcroft, the culinary historian, countered with a smile, "it could be genius if he balances it."
Next, the buns.
He halved glossy burger buns and dropped them cut-side down in the same buttered pan. The butter gave them a golden, toasted surface in seconds.
Meanwhile, Krauss didn't waste a second after the theme reveal. While others scrambled toward the pantry, he strode with calculated calm, like a king among pawns.
"Street food for royalty?" he muttered with a smirk. "Then let's skip the 'street' part altogether, royalty doesn't deserve street."
He reached directly for lobster tails and foie gras, ignoring the humbler staples stacked nearby—no potatoes, no buns, no tortillas. The audience gasped as the camera zoomed in on his hands.
One of the judges arched a brow. "Interesting choice…"
Meanwhile, two stations over, Marcus—a broad-shouldered chef known for his flair—was working with flatbread. The camera panned over as he flipped a sizzling naan on the griddle.
"Chef Marcus!" the host called out, sliding up beside him. "What are we seeing here?"
Marcus flashed a grin, sweat on his brow. "I'm doing a royale kebab wrap. Charcoal lamb skewers, spiced yogurt drizzle, gold-dusted pomegranate seeds for garnish. Street food, but dressed for a throne."
The crowd cheered, the idea itself already sounding indulgent.
Krauss, scowled at the noise and chopped briskly at his station. He shot a quick glance toward Vincent and smirked. "A burger? Really? Let's hope it's more than pub food with perfume."
Vincent ignored him.
Then he began the sauces.
For the burger sauce, in a small bowl, he whisked together mayonnaise, truffle oil, mustard, lemon juice, white pepper, and a pinch of salt. The mixture turned creamy and smooth, glistening like ivory silk. That was his truffle mayo.
In another bowl, he added mayonnaise, barbecue sauce, mustard, lemon juice, honey, onion powder, and a pinch of garlic powder. The flavors blended into a smoky-sweet richness. That was his fries sauce, which he slid into the refrigerator to chill.
The host leaned over, curiosity in his tone. "Chef Vincent, two sauces? What's the play here?"
"Balance," Vincent replied quickly, not stopping his whisking. "Earthy richness on the burger, tangy-sweet for the fries."
One of the judges, Marissa Cole, suddenly leaned foward. "Chef Vincent, may I?" she asked, gesturing toward the small bowl of fries sauce.
Without hesitation, he slid a spoon across. She dipped, tasted, and her eyes lit up. "Mmm. Tangy, layered… with a kick at the end. Dangerous to let this sauce sit too long—it might get stolen before the fries are ready."
The crowd laughed. Vincent smirked faintly, but kept moving.
The host leaned in on Krauss's station with his mic, grinning. "Chef Krauss, mind telling the world what you're making?"
"Gladly." Krauss straightened. "I'll be presenting a Lobster Tempura with Foie Gras Foam, plated over saffron-dusted microgreens, finished with a caviar reduction."
The audience oohed—but some booed, too. They knew the theme.
"That's…" the host laughed awkwardly, "…a bold take on street food."
"Bold," Krauss corrected, "and victorious." He dipped lobster into his batter with elegance, ignoring the whispers.
One of the judges, Henry Dumont, the restauranteur leaned toward another. "It looks exquisite, no doubt."
"Yes," the historian judge murmured back, "but street food it is not."
The camera caught Vincent at his station, calm as ever, preparing his ingredients. He didn't even glance up at Krauss's spectacle.
Next were the vegetables and toppings.
Vincent chopped onions into thin strips then placed them in a buttered pan. Butter foamed as the onions caramelized slowly, turning glossy and golden-brown. He sliced tomatoes into neat, thick circles, laying them ready on the side.
At Marcus's station, flames leapt high as his skewers kissed the charcoal grill. The host stepped back quickly. "Whoa! Someone alert the fire marshal—we've got fireworks already!"
"Controlled fire," Marcus said with a laugh. "This is street food royale. Fire belongs here."
Krauss sneered, cracking open a lobster claw dramatically for the cameras. "Children play with fire. Kings dine with finesse."
Then Vincent began his pomme gaufrettes, also known as waffle cut fries or potato lattice.
He peeled a potato smooth, then placed it on a mandoline slicer fitted with a crinkle blade. Then he sliced the potatoes thinly, rotating 90 degrees after every slice. Each cut revealed a delicate lattice pattern. Soon, his board was stacked with raw waffle-cut slices.
He blanched the slices in boiling water for two minutes, then plunged them into an ice bath. Once cooled, he patted them dry, and coated them with avocado oil, truffle oil, salt, garlic powder, and smoked paprika. Then he dropped them into hot oil; they sizzled violently, frying until they were crispy and golden.
"Chef Vincent's going for precision with pomme gaufrettes!" the host announced. "Not your everyday fries, folks—this is technique under pressure!"
"One minute remaining!" the host roared.
He moved faster now, stacking his dish. He spread truffle mayo on the bottom bun, layered caramelized onions, placed the patty crowned with melted cheese, then a tomato slice.
"Thirty seconds!"
He added lettuce, another patty with melted cheese, more caramelized onions, then gently pressed the sauced top bun over the tower. A wooden skewer went through the middle to hold the burger together.
"Ten seconds!"
He scooped the crisp waffle fries, arranging them in an elegant fan beside the burgers with the dipping sauce set neatly at their side. The fries glowed golden under the lights, specks of seasoning catching every glint.
Across the arena, Marcus raced to drizzle his yogurt sauce in even lines across the naan wrap, while Krause was dusting his lobster roll with a final touch of silver.
"TIME!"
Vincent stepped back, calm, while cameras zoomed in on the towering creation:
Double truffle burgers with melted cheese, juices glistening.
Caramelized onions spilling like molten gold.
Waffle-cut fries plated with jewel-like precision and their own dipping sauce.
The crowd erupted. Hashtags, chants, and predictions exploded across every screen.
One judge chuckled. "That's not just street food royale. That's a coronation feast."
Another leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "But will it taste as good as it looks?"
To the world, it was a masterpiece born under pressure. A feast fit for kings.
To Vincent, it was nothing more than steps executed, one after another.