The Crippling Grip of Self-Doubt

The instant before the fork hit my mouth, I suddenly realized, "I have a vested interest in this pie being delicious." And now I'm not sure who to trust. My mouth? Or my mind. And since the experience of my mouth can only be viewed through my mind's twisted prism, how am I ever to separate the two?

It's a dilemma.

But this is damn good peach pie.

But...

Am I being too gullible?

I need to examine my reactions with more scrutiny. The pie is sweet, plump, juicy, good dough-y crust (points off for that, perhaps, it ought ideally to be flaky). The peach is quite nicely al dente. Points up for that. But isn't there a sort of a hint of something off-terroir in it? Something in the bouquet, or the finish? Subtle notes of safflower oil and rancid salami? Just the faintest, faintest hints now! Nothing overpowering. Nothing even technically noticeable.

Or am I imagining it? Have I faked out my own senses, to the point where I begin picking imaginary nits upon an innocent pastry, impugning the baked goodness of a blameless baked good?

Did I ever truly have a vested interest in this pie being delicious? Or was I an impartial observer all along?

Wow. I probably was.

What a relief. Thank God that's all over.

This peach pie is delicious.

Comments