She laughed at my first pupusa and ate my fourth

A woman in the village at El Zonte put my hands into a bowl of masa one Saturday afternoon and showed me, step by step, how to make a pupusa. She laughed at my first one. She laughed at my second. She did not laugh at my third, which she looked at for a long time. She ate my fourth. She did not say anything. I have not made one since. I have a very good memory of the bowl.