It was a holiday or anniversary of some sort back in the mid-1980s and my GF and I were at her Dad's home along with her aunt and uncle. I was cooking dinner in Dad's kitchen, and was making a roast of some sort. I was removing the roast from the pan to put on a platter when, with a resultant loud thud, the roast fell to the floor. I was devastated. I wanted to make an impression on Dad and the relatives.
I had no idea what to do. Did I feel the tears of my frustration and incompetence?
A moment later the aunt walked into the kitchen as a result of hearing the roast fall, and she obviously saw my distress. With many years of cooking behind her, she offered her sage advice: "Pick it up, wipe it off, and serve it. They won't know."
As she left the kitchen to go back to the dining room, she turned to me and said, "We'll eat from the other end," smiled, and glided into the dining room.
