Sometimes you feel good about cooking. One moment, you’re fresh from a string of gastronomic hits; a culinary demigod. Things cannot fail. You can do no wrong. You become incautious. Temperatures are not read carefully enough. Consequences are not considered. And then there is now.

Things have gone wrong tonight. So horribly wrong that I’m embarassed to relate.

But it could be worse. For a proper classical Hubris, one must not only be enamoured of one’s own abilities (what we used to call “a capability:ambition mismatch” at my old shop) one must publicly scorn the Gods. The culinary equivalent of this is inviting guests to dinner whilst trying out a new recipe.

Not this little black duck. I am alone in my kitchen, and Nemesis will not be dining here tonight.


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