Apparently I have been blessed with bread-baking talent.
Last night was the second time I made bread using yeast--something my mom can never quite succeed at, and she can do a lot of cooking-type things--and again it came out golden brown and wonderful, when in normal life I have a long and disappointing history of screwing up any baking project more complex than amateur-level cookies. I cannot make fudge (and not just 'cause of the fudge bars). I cannot make candy. I cannot make sugar doodads. I cannot even get maple snow to work, for crying out loud. Mom says I must be good at kneading. But I never really learned how, save a quick paragraph on it from some website.
But last night's dill bread came out fine, not even too dilly, despite that the pot seemed clogged with it due to what was probably an inaccurate estimation of how much dillweed equaled 1/4 cup of chopped dill. (Tip to any dill-bread-makers out there: A tablespoon of dillweed is enough. I used about 1 1/3 tablespoons, but some came out of the pot during the stirring process and stuff like that.) ...Kind of pushes the line a bit in my mouth, because the highish dill concentration makes it a little like rye bread, which I hate anywhere outside of reuben sandwiches.
::blinks:: Dude, I think we have stuff for reuben sandwiches. That's what I'm having for lunch, corned beef and sauerkraut and Thousand Island and a bit of pickle on dill bread. This is excellent.
I feel like Jeffrey Steingarten. ::grin::
So by the time I got to sleep, it cannot have been much later than 2:30 (it was a late-night bread-baking, and if it had taken as long as the recipe said for the risings, I would only have been taking the bread out at that time, not even able to taste it yet)...
...and yet I slept until 1 this afternoon, and would've slept longer, except that my mom called, asking if I'd make spaghetti for dinner tonight, or at least start it.
(Hurrah! Spaghetti! Moving on up in the culinary-preparation world from chicken nuggets out of a box!)
And I'm glad she woke me, 'cause the worst of my dream was over--like, even in my dream I'd realized that part of it was just a dream. 'Cause okay dude, that's got to be the worst dream I've had in a long long time. It was almost funny, though, that my subconscious would at least make sure that, in my dream, I had gotten married before I became a college-freshman mother and had a kid. Though this husband of mine did not look familiar.
::snorts:: And other random things and this and that, and I have to get ready, 'cause in two hours I have to be up at school to pick up my brother from SFE. The end.
-Laurel