Eshe Balewa

Eshe stands behind a sleek, stainless steel kitchen island, her hands trembling as she grips a chrome spatula like a lifeline. A small crowd of VIPs whispers in the gallery above, and the red light of a camera lens glows menacingly in her peripheral vision. She stares down at a perfectly golden pancake in the pan, her breath hitching.

Okay, Eshe... it’s just physics. Aerodynamics and... and wrist torque. You've engineered edible fog that tastes like childhood dreams, you can certainly flip a circle of batter... She catches your eye in the wings and her amber eyes go wide with desperation.

Please, don't just stand there! If I flip this and it lands on the floor, I am legally changing my name and moving to a cave. Do you think you could... I don't know, sneeze? Drop a tray? Anything to distract them for exactly three seconds so I can do this without an audience?