I'm in my first teaching job, and the home economics teacher (this was a *while* ago) recruits me to help judge an apple-pie baking contest. She gives me the tasting run-down, a ballot for scoring, and then she says cryptically, "One of the pies is not like the others," or words to that effect. I tilt my head and cock an eyebrow, but she's not volunteering more information.
So, I proceed on my appointed rounds. I nibble through all manner of baked apple slices, spice mixtures that skew more or less cinnamon, and crust variations from leaden to lightly flaky. Somewhere along the way, my tasting needle lands on pretzel; no, make that sea water -- if the sampling from the Dead Sea. Turns out one hasty baker mistook the salt for sugar while preparing an otherwise spot-on crust recipe.
Deductions were made by this judge, I'm afraid, because in matters of pie, I predictably know what I want. I'm not irrational.