Can you hear the foul language hanging in the air? There, over that pan in the picture?
One of my flaws (I know you’re shocked, but there are a few) is a penchant for pride. While it’s odd for someone wracked with insecurity to harbor proud secret vanities, I’m here to tell you that it can be done.
A perfectionist with a knack for baking gets used to culinary success. She doesn’t always accept abject failure with grace and humility. She might even cuss and throw Bundt pans.
I could simply have bought a loaf of bread – I was contributing to a meal we were delivering to a colleague who’d lost a family member.
What a stupid euphemism! You don’t “lose” a family member, unless he is desperate enough to go underground in an effort get away from you. Family members die. That’s a different sort of underground.
But I digress.
Why buy when you can bake — and garner glory while you’re at it? I opted to make Herbed Cheese Pull-Apart Bread from scratch. I found an elaborate recipe online and followed it to the letter. I chopped herbs and grated parmesan and proofed yeast and kneaded dough.
It was a royal pain in the ass. It took all evening. But that bread was Pinterest perfect when I took it out of the oven.
I could not, however, take it out of the pan.
I wound up pulling warm gooey hunks out by the fistful, which I ate in frustration. Husband and Son #2 helped. We showed that bread a thing or two.
The bread showed me a thing or two in turn: Pride cometh before a fail.