And that word is "hubris." Go ahead, look it up. I'll wait. "Overweening or excessive pride."
OK, to begin with, I happen to make very good fried chicken. I am not saying I make the "best" fried chicken in the world. I'm just saying I've never had better. And Thursday I was going to make fried chicken for dinner, and I boasted of my prowess, to which Tori and Max and Kate all agreed. Mashed potatoes, zucchini, and fried chicken. One might call it one of my specialties. I certainly did.
So naturally, I blew it. It was not dreadful, but it wasn't very good. A little burnt on the outside, a little raw in the middle – still not sure how I managed that – and over spiced. Not so much so that it was inedible, but it was definitely not up to the standard I'd been bragging about. The worst fried chicken I've ever made, and probably the worst thing I've cooked in months.
The potatoes were good. How can you screw up mashed potatoes? And the zucchini was damn near perfect. But the chicken? Not so good. It was still better than KFC or most other chains. But karma had definitely put me in my place.
Lesson learned. You can't serve your reputation for dinner.