At the village pie contest, the judges asked Nora for her recipe. Her apple pie had won first prize three years in a row.
“I can write it down,” she said, “but it changes every time.”
The judges tasted this year’s pie. One detected cinnamon, another lemon, and the third declared a hint of ginger.
“What did you put in it today?” the chairman asked.
Nora reached into her bag for the recipe card. It had a large stain across the ingredients.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I followed the part I can still read.”
The chairman handed it back. “Please don’t wash the card. We like this version.”