Cooking class

I was essentially the worst student in the class.
Because I thought I knew what I was doing.
Yet every day I had a "So that's how the hell that works!" moment as I emulsified mayonnaise or sprinkled a generous portion of salt into an overly spicy red sauce or gently added a raw egg to swirling water and came up with something poached and not egg-drop-souped.
Humility, especially in front of the stove, should never be forgotten.
Especially when dealing with souffles.
Or roasted chicken.
Or browning butter.
Or... life.