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Bethany Turner Biography

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“I usually don't know these women. I literally don't know their names sometimes. More often than not, I meet them when I step into the car my manager sends to pick me up. And then the minute we walk into whatever venue we're going to, they go talk to Leonardo DiCaprio or Andy Cohen, or one of the Desperate Housewives-" "Do you mean the Real Housewives?" she asked as an impish smile overtook her face. "I mean, maybe they're snubbing you to go talk to Teri Hatcher...”

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Book:Hadley Beckett's Next Dish
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“Hadley Beckett from Nashville, Tennessee, who had a Bachelor of Business Administration degree but had dropped out of culinary school. Lover of fried okra and hot chicken and sweet tea. Henceforth those things wouldn't be used against me as insults. Henceforth other chefs- of the too-big-for their-britches variety- wouldn't look down their noses at me for calling it powdered sugar rather than confectioners sugar.”

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“And with that," I concluded as I dusted powdered sugar across the plate, "you've created a dessert the entire family will go crazy over. And if you really want to make them go crazy, serve these little ditties for breakfast, and wash them down with that sweet tea we made earlier. But only on school days, or days when the sun is shining and the kiddos can be sent outside to play. Seriously, y'all, these vanilla donut drops have enough sugar in them to upset the apple cart of behavior in your house in a way it may never recover from.”

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“I hope you'll come back next time, because I'm going to be showing you how to make croquembouche. You're probably thinking to yourself, 'Now, Hadley, croquembouche sounds French and fancy and high falootin'.' And you're right. Croquembouche is all of those things. But you know what else it is? It's a tower of cream puffs, covered in caramel. And when you put it that way, I think it's a little more our speed. Don't you?”

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“I headed into the kitchen, a little bit zombie-like. I didn't know what I was going to cook, and I certainly wasn't hungry, but I pulled out a bowl and pie pan and a whisk, and then instinctively opened the refrigerator and grabbed eggs and cream, as well as some of the bacon and Gruyère that had been set aside for Lacey's Mornay sauce and hot brown. I fumbled around the kitchen, grabbing everything else I needed to make a quick, easy quiche, although there was a part of me that thought it was the perfect time to tackle turducken or some equally arduous and ridiculous recipe that I'd always thought would be fun to have in my repertoire.”

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“You jumped in your car and drove here from New York on a whim. I don't do much of anything as a whim." As if needing to prove her wrong- because something inside of him felt as if he did- Max stood up from his stool and walked around to her side of the counter. Slowly and deliberately. Waves of pink began rushing up her neck and he had a gratifying epiphany. So I'm the cause of that shade. Although, really, he knew he was the cause of all the shades. But he sure liked that one best. "I don't know, Hadley. I think it's been a pretty whimsical night." Her lips curled up in acknowledgement. "This has all been very unlike me. But that doesn't change the fact that down the road, beyond right now-" He leaned down so they were eye-to-eye and whispered, "Who said anything about beyond right now?”

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“Today, Chefs, I have prepared for you a coconut-curry chicken, served on a naan waffle. And while the flavor profile is a little more on the exotic side, I think even exotic food should be comfort food. To that end, you'll see that you also have a side of warmed sweet and slightly spicy plum chutney. I'll ask you to pour that over the dish, as you would maple syrup over the traditional Southern version of chicken and waffles.”

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“I brought donuts from Five Daughters. Want one?" I didn't wait for an answer. I just began plating. "You and your trendy hotspots. Whatever happened to good ol' Dunkin' Donuts?" I handed her the plate, to which I'd added the flourish of a raspberry syrup base and a sprinkle of powdered sugar. "When Dunkin' Donuts starts describing their filling as a 'brownie batter buttercream infusion', we'll talk. Until then, you're welcome.”

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“Well, it's definitely banana. What banana dishes do you have?" "Do the bananas smell ripe?" Hadley interjected, grabbing Max's attention. Her turned in his chair. "Yes, but not overly so." "So not mashed up and cooked in?" He thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so." She nodded. "Pecans or walnuts?" Max closed his eyes and brought the earthy smell of the dish to the forefront of his mind. "Pecans. And... coconut, maybe?" "Oh!" Holly exclaimed with excitement. "That's the Caribbean pancakes!”

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“It's tricky to make a truly great risotto, but it seems so simple that everyone tries. As a result, there are a lot of horrible risottos being served in restaurants around the globe. I suppose we wanted to prove that none of those horrible risottos will be found in our restaurants." "And hopefully our risottos won't be as dry as our reason for wanting to make risotto," Hadley added, apparently feeling the need to turn Renowned into an open mic comedy night.”

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“You're making tarte à la bouille as an angel food cake?" Ah. He got it. And, if I wasn't mistaken, he was impressed. Or maybe he was just confused. I felt pretty gratified, either way. I flipped my wrist to remove his hand and then went about my business. "Have you read To Kill a Mockingbird, Chef Cavanagh?" "Yes. Of course I have." "So you remember when Heck Tate told Atticus that they should keep the secret, about Boo Radley saving the kids. He told him that if the people of the town found out, they'd all use their appreciation as an excuse to meddle in Boo's life." I finished pouring my mix into the pan and then looked at him- probably a little more pleased with myself than good manners allowed for. "They'd all be showing up at Boo's door with angel food cake.”

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