The Key Ingredient by Susan Wiggs

sculpted bod. His cohost, Melissa, hovered at his side, her pulled-­together persona a perfect foil for his casual élan. The caption asked, “Have we found the next Jamie Oliver?”
    Food as entertainment. It was a direction Annie hadn’t contemplated for The Key Ingredient . But who was she to argue with ratings success?
    â€œHe has definitely come into his own on the show,” CJ remarked. “But today’s about you. You’re in the limelight.”
    Annie talked briefly about her background—­film school and broadcasting, with a focus on culinary arts, which she’d studied under a special program at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. What she didn’t mention was the sacrifice she’d made to move from the East Coast to LA. That was part of Annie’s story, not the show’s story.
    â€œWhen did you make the move to the West Coast?”
    â€œSeems like forever ago. It’s been about ten years.”
    â€œStraight out of college, then?”
    â€œThat’s right. I didn’t expect to wind up in LA before the ink on my diploma was dry, but that’s pretty much how it went,” Annie said. “It seems sudden, but not to me. By the time I was six, I knew I wanted to have a show about the culinary arts. My earliest memories are of my grandmother in the kitchen with Ciao Italia on the local PBS station. I used to picture Gran as Mary Ann Esposito, teaching the world to cook. I loved the way she spoke about food, handled it, expressed herself through it, talked and wrote about it, and shared it. Then I’d do cooking demos for Gran, and later for anyone who would sit through one of my presentations. I even filmed myself doing a cooking show. I had those old VHS tapes turned into digital files to preserve the memories. Martin and I keep meaning to sit down and watch them one of these days.”
    â€œWhat a great story. You found your passion early.”
    Her passion had been born in her grandmother’s kitchen when Annie was too young to read or write. But she’d never been too young to dream. “I assumed everyone was passionate about food. Still do, and it’s always a surprise when I find out otherwise.”
    â€œSo you were into food even before you met Martin.”
    Martin again. The world assumed he was the most interesting thing about Annie. How had she let that happen? And why? “Actually,” she said, “everything started with a short documentary I made about Martin, back when he had a food cart in Manhattan.”
    â€œThat very first short went viral, didn’t it? And yet you’re still behind the scenes. Do you ever want to be in front of the camera?”
    Annie kept a neutral expression on her face. Of course she did, every day. That had been her dream, but the world of commercial broadcasting had other ideas. “I’m too busy with the production to think about it,” she said.
    â€œYou never considered being a cohost? I’m just thinking about what you said earlier about those cooking demos . . .”
    Annie knew what CJ was getting at. Reporters had a way of sneaking into private places and extracting information. CJ wouldn’t find any dirt here, though. “Leon Mackey, the executive producer and owner of the show, wanted a cohost to keep Martin from turning into a talking head. Martin and I actually did make a few test reels together,” she said. “Even before we married, we wanted to be a team both on camera and off. It seemed romantic and unique, a way to set us apart from other shows.”
    â€œExactly,” CJ said. “So it didn’t work out?”
    Annie’s hopes had soared when she and Martin had made those early reels; she thought they might choose her. But no. The show needed someone more relatable, they said. More polished, they said. What they didn’t say was that Annie’s look was too ethnic. Her olive-­toned skin and dark