John's the only one in the room not wearing the very comfortable-looking black and white checkered pants. He and the other spectators are all arranged in the viewing gallery of an exhibition kitchen, their eyes glued to Rodney.

"Watch your heat here," Rodney snaps, "or you'll scorch it. Do that and you'll have really finely spun charcoal, which will both suck and be useless." A titter runs through the group and instantly silences when Rodney's head jerks up for a second.

John is, as usual, mesmerized by Rodney's hands. The right one holds a whisk he's just dipped into a large pot of slowly simmering caramelized sugar. Rodney lifts the whisk and starts a brisk circular motion. The sugar leaves the whisk in slender, sparkling golden strands that Rodney carefully gathers into a cloud in his left hand.

John snaps the photo.