Recipe for Intrigue

Trixie stared into the box blankly as the other contestants began retrieving ingredients from theirs and whipping up whatever meal they felt most appropriate.
Those watching as each contestant began creating their own signature dish felt inwardly relieved that both Desmond the Disgusting and the Hillbilly had been eliminated before the food round, and allowed their imaginations to briefly imagine the types of dishes those two would have considered 'signature'.
There was also much curiosity concerning the Goblin's meal – would the Goblin produce something gross and slimy or dead-cat-like, or would its natural abilities in workmanship produce a dish so delectable that the judges would be begging it to whip up another one? The fact that so far the Goblin had retrieved a pineapple, some flour, and an old shoe from the box only confused the matter.

Trixie sighed, and reluctantly lifted a can of peaches from the box.
Wait.
There was something buried in the box!
Lifitng out a ham, some dates, a piece of watermelon, and a dried frog, Trixie revealed a piece of paper at the bottom of the box, far enough in that one would assume none of the watching Evanses or filming cameras could notice.
Silently she read the headline:

Favourite Meals for Three Kings

Following was a detailed list of instructions, set out so the most struggling of chefs would be able to easily follow them.
Trixie glanced around suspiciously, and debated the origin of this note.

Firstly, was it legitimate? The Evanses had been out for her head for some time now, and she could very easily see them attempting to influence the competition negatively for her with a bit of subterfuge.

Secondly, if it was legitimate, who had put it in her box? An Evans?
She knew that the Evans she had rescued would probably have had little chance to do anything to aid her, but there were multiple other Evanses involved in this competition. Perhaps one of them was grateful enough for her actions that they had decided to become a supporter?
Or was there someone else who was helping her?

She needed time to think, and the clock was already counting down, so she made a start on the first recipe on the list.
It was not like she was going to win this challenge with her regular signature dish 'Reheated Leftover Takeaways', although admittedly the 'Favourite Meal' on the list for Elvis was quite similar to this.

Adding the necessary ingredients, and carefully following the detailed instructions while trying to not be obviously reading from the box, Trixie started formulating a plan. Maybe it would work, and maybe it wouldn't. But maybe it would!
With an eye on the clock, Trixie signalled for a nearby Evans to come over, and then asked him for a toilet break.
The Evans looked at her suspiciously.
After all, in these sort of books and game shows no one asks for a toilet break, which is pretty unrealistic if you ask me, but is never-the-less true. I've never seen it anyway.
To add to the realism, Trixie began doing the hop-on-one-foot-then-the-other-desperately dance, and put a pleading look into her eye.
The Evans sighed. As much as Trixie was a mistrusted contestant, the gameshow wouldn't be as popular if contestants were made to wet themselves. After all, this wasn't a Japanese game show, or Distraction!
“Fine,” the Evans stated, “But the timer will still be going, so you're only making it harder for yourself.”
Trixie nodded the grateful nod of the desperately desperate, and walked quickly to the corridor leading towards the toilets, and more importantly, the production area.

Chapter Fourteen *** Chapter Sixteen