Spice. Robert A. Webster

aroma and smiled.

      While waiting for the icing to harden, he asked Jimmy, “Why did you want me to bake you a simple custard slice?”

      Jimmy looked at Cake and smiled, “They aren’t so simple and can taste bland. I always look for someone who can produce a unique flavour and turn a bland item into something special,” Jimmy replied.

      “Look for what?” asked Cake, sounding confused.

      Jimmy looked at Cake, and said, “An assistant.”

      It dumbfounded Cake when Jimmy then told him, “There’s a position at Harrods for an assistant head pâtissier, but so far I haven’t been able to find a suitable candidate.”

      Confused, Cake handed the warm custard slice to Jimmy, who took a bite of the sweet, crispy, pastry. The flavours exploded in his mouth with a blend of subtle tastes that enhanced the vanilla custard and icing.

      ‘This kid's talent’s phenomenal,’ thought Jimmy before announcing, “The job as my assistant is yours young Cake.”

      Cakes heart pounded, he knew he would never get another opportunity like this. It was his dream, but he knew one thing stood in his way. He then sighed and said. “I would love to come to London and work for you Jimmy, but I have to run the bakery for the family.”

      Jimmy, sounding disappointed, looked at Cake, and said, “If you want the job, I will speak with your family,” he smirked, “I can be very persuasive.”

      Cake smiled and looking like an excited puppy said. “Thanks Jimmy,” he looked at his watch, “the family are upstairs.”

      Jimmy and Cake walked into the large bakery section of Harrods a week later after Cakes family, knowing it had always been his dream, agreed. Jimmy gave Cake a tour of the prestigious store. Cake gazed at the contents of the glass display cases in Harrods pâtisserie section, which looked like works of art. Jimmy showed him to his room in the staff quarters at the rear of the building and issued him several sets of chefs’ whites with the small gold Harrods motif.

      Cake felt like a million dollars as he changed into his whites and went into the pristine, well-organised, efficient bakery, with each pâtissier knowing their routine. Cake felt overawed as he wandered around looking at the modern ovens and equipment.

      “Okay Cake,” said Jimmy, “Have a look around and get your bearings, then I need you to make two dozen chocolate éclairs.”

      “Yes Chef!” replied a happy Cake, setting to work.

      It took a short while for Cake to settle into his new life. Harrods bakery staff at first was cold towards him. They were jealous and could not understand why a young farm boy with no qualifications had landed the enviable position as the head pâtissier’s assistant. However, once they tasted his cakes and pastries, they realised that he was special and deserved the post. Cake worked hard and spent most of his time at the bakery.

      Cake’s reputation spread throughout the culinary world around London. Harrods bakery sales increased and Cake was soon in demand by competitors. He earned good money and was doing what he loved, baking.

      Jimmy became his mentor and taught Cake invaluable trade tricks and techniques. However, Cake felt limited from experimenting at Harrods. The fixed menu rarely changed and there was no room for innovation. Cake felt unchallenged and the job soon became mundane. He took up kickboxing again to break the monotony.

      Although turning down jobs in other prestigious bakeries and restaurants, Jimmy encouraged him to advance his career, advising him to take another job should the right opportunity come along. That opening came when Cake was twenty-four-years-old. The Savoy Hotel approached him to be their head pâtissier, which Cake considered.

      They offered him a generous salary increase and he would control the cake and pastry menu. He had the freedom to experiment with his own recipes, but the success of the department and responsibility to make the pâtisserie a success, rested on his shoulders.

      Cake discussed the offer with Jimmy, who advised him to accept the position.

      The Savoy, although built in the late eighteenth century, was a modern 5-star hotel with its opulence and grandeur impressing Cake.

      He wasn’t impressed with the bakery, which, unlike the Hilton, was next to the main kitchen. Cake’s first day came as a shock as he was used to a quiet and efficient bakery. The chefs in the kitchen buzzed around like headless chickens, as a small, fat, head chef bawled and screamed at them. Cake went into the bakery section, where a pâtissier was shouting at his harassed looking staff. He introduced himself to the assistant head pâtissier, who looked unimpressed at his new boss and, while barking out orders to his underlings, showed Cake around.

      Cake wasted no time in getting the bakery into order and after a short time, reorganised the bakery section and trained the bakers to his techniques and recipes.

      At last, he felt free to experiment with his own innovations and involved in creating every item that left his bakery. He fired the assistant pâtissier and the work area became serene and well organised, unlike the main kitchen, with its disorganised chaos and megalomaniacal head chefs yelling at their minions. Albeit they spoke respectfully to Cake, as they knew that unlike him, they were expendable.

      Cake enjoyed strolling along the river Thames and often wondered about his extraordinary senses. He wanted to find out more about it, so went to see Doctor Arnold Sagger, an eminent Harley Street clinical genetic specialist and physician, who took DNA samples for parenthesis and susceptibility.

      The results astounded the doctor. Cake had over a third more olfactory receptor genes than other human beings and more than most other mammalians.

      The doctor had researched cases of individuals and on record, they’d found the most in a wine sommelier in Italy, with 980 receptor genes, slightly more than the average in human beings of less than 900. Cake had in excess of 1400, slightly less than mice, which have the highest with 1500 olfactory genes.

      The doctor sounded excited when he asked to study Cake and research his unique mutation, but looked disappointed when Cake declined because the doctor made him feel like an X-Man. He was just a normal chap with a heightened sense and now that he had found out the reason behind it, that was all he needed to know.

      Cake remained at the Savoy for several years, his name becoming synonymous with great confectionary. His reputation spread with articles written about him in baking journals and magazines referring to him as ‘The Pâtissier Phenom.’ Prince Charles regularly had Cakes confectionary delivered to Clarence house.

      Cake went on a few dates with female chefs, who he’d found boring and smelt of cooking fat.

      Several years later, the Savoy’s ownership changed, and the new owners were a corporation. Their only concern was money, profit, and setting targets and budgets. Cake spent more time with paperwork than doing what he loved, so he became disheartened. He’d received many other job offers and after again discussing them and his situation with Jimmy, he accepted an offer from a new hotel in Richmond, Greater London, The Avalon. He would earn the same as the Savoy with bonuses, and still be running the bakery, but would not have to do any paperwork as they allocated him an administrator. The Savoy offered Cake a substantial wage increase and a large bonus to stay, but Cake refused and left the Savoy.

      Cake enjoyed working at the Avalon. Now thirty-years-old, he felt comfortable with the freedom and responsibility.

      Gaining a kickboxing black belt qualification before leaving the Savoy; after starting with the Avalon, he went to the Tojo Kickboxing Club, based in the gymnasium of the nearby Kings Leisure Centre.

      He saw a few kickboxers training, so put down his holdall, and wandered around the gym waiting for someone to acknowledge him.

      An attractive woman came over and smiled at him.

      Cake smiled at her and thought. ‘Ooh, she’s nice and too pretty to be a kickboxer. Probably a groupie,’ he smirked.

      “What do you want?” asked the woman in an abrupt