The big let-down

One morning last week, Ellen proclaimed that she was going to bake some home-made bread. I haven't had good homemade bread for at least 5 years or so, and I was surprised and excited to hear that my sweetheart was about to engage in the mixing, kneading, waiting, punching, waiting, punching, shaping, and baking required to make good bread. I patiently waited throughout the day for the unmistakable pleasure on the palate that is warm buttered white bread. When the nostalgic smell of baking bread hit my nostrils, my stomach leaped with joy (this is actually visible to the naked eye) although I am not great with child. Finally, Ellen shouted "Trev, come have some bread!" and I rushed to the kitchen. Then, with shock and horror, I gazed upon these little round mounds of yeasty tragedy: The blobs on the left are topped with chopped green onion (naturally) and the blobs on the right are topped with mayonnaise and bits of ham/bacon (of course!) I was so dissappointed in my nose, since it had been telling me for at least 40 minutes that 2 loaves of wonderful white were baking in the oven. Not once did my snouser detect the smell of onion, ham, or mayonnaise. Ellen couldn't understand why I looked so underwhelmed. After all, who doesn't loved hot baked mayonnaise?? Anyway, I'm working on teaching my wife the difference between American bread and whatever those abominations in the picture are called in Taiwan.