hot potato

I made potato bread last night and forgot about it THREE TIMES, resulting in a sadly neglected dough that produced an ill-shapen loaf. It was fine potato bread, I guess. I sort of thought that since all the potato bread I'd ever had was store-bought, "real" potato bread would be better. I thought it would be some sort of magical discovery.

Instead, I discovered that potato bread does, indeed, have a potato in it. Also, that I still don't really like it.

Also, I made eggplant parmesan last night and burnt EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. I fried them in batches. You'd think I would have gotten it right once!

All in all, I didn't have a very successful night. The pasta was okay -- penne with red pepper and spinach. I think I managed to not mess that up (okay, I could have used less oil.) But other than that? Gosh. Downright disheartening.

Then today, I left the oven on all day long. 7 a.m. until 6 p.m... at 400 freaking degrees! It's a wonder I haven't burnt down the condo -- heck, it's a wonder I haven't burnt down the whole city. The apartment was 90 degrees by the time I got home, with the fans running and the door open. Sheesh.


Tonight I began a sourdough starter, and I am doubtful. I am looking at the thick, gloppy mess of flour and water in a jar, and distinctly doubting that it will ever become a magical leavening agent. Call me a Negative Nancy, and send my little starter happy thoughts to counteract my bad ones, will you?