Eatin My Humble Pie

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A few years ago, my neighbor came over so that we could make homemade bread together. See, she and her husband had joined us for dinner the week before. We enjoyed a lovely meal of chicken noodle soup and french bread... bread that I had made from scratch. My neighbor couldn't believe that I made bread. In her words, I was "amazing". She couldn't fathom how it was possible to take care of four kids AND still have time to make homemade bread from scratch. So feeling all proud of me and my bad self, I told her it was easy, and I could absolutely teach her how. Wheat bread, white bread, french bread, sourdough... what was her fancy?

When she arrived, I welcomed her into my home, feeling confident and capable and much like Martha Stewart about to bestow gifts of domestic bliss and wonder on the unlearned. But first, I had to expertly whisk my baby off to bed for his morning nap. He smiled and waved as I carried him back to the bedroom, and went right to sleep without a peep. My neighbor made a comment about what a good a baby he was and how wonderful it was that he took such great naps. I laughed off her compliment and made some vague reference to years of parenting experience and expertise. I mean really, what would you expect from someone as capable and "amazing" as me?

(Insert ridiculously loud cough right here so as to fully punctuate my sarcasm.)

Then, we made the bread. I instructed, I gave tips, I explained what works and what doesn't. I shared my many experiences because all joking aside, I have actually been making bread for a long time. After setting the dough to rise, we had a nice chat about how you don't actually have to be afraid of yeast... it isn't really that scary. It's EASY to make great bread.

While she went to check on her baby, I went to check on the rising wonder that is MY homemade bread. Imagine my surprise when I turned back the dishcloth covering the dough to find a nice smooth ball of dough exactly the same size as it was an hour before.

Oh dear.

My neighbor came and looked over my shoulder.

"Ummm, isn't it supposed to rise and get bigger?"

Um, yeah. It IS supposed to. But I totally just got schooled by the wicked beastly creature that is yeast. And I'm thinking maybe my massive ego didn't do much to assist the baking process either.

Fortunately, my neighbor was wonderfully forgiving and laughed off the entire experience. We're all only human after all. ESPECIALLY me. Though it was nice, for that brief moment in time before I enjoyed a delicious slice of humble pie, to think that I actually was the Grand Master of all things Good and Domestic.

(You know, we aren't neighbors anymore... I ought to look her up and ask if her she ever tried to make bread on her own. I mean, after having had such a great teacher...)