For a long time, I have dreamed about being the kind of mother who fills the house with the smell of fresh baked-bread, and all the calm and tranquility that aroma suggests.
As it turns out, I am the kind of mom who considers it a personal triumph if everyone gets to school wearing the right uniform on the right day.
The need to prepare dinner comes as a daily shock - "What? Again? Didn't I just do that yesterday?"
And, too often, the tenor of the house, or at least the woman running it, tends towards shrill, not chill.
But, as of 3 weeks ago, I do bake bread.
'Little Red Hen bread', as WB dubbed it, on sight. Not because I made it myself (though I did - it was 10 o'clock at night) but because it looks exactly like the illustration in our Little Golden Book.
In fact, it is Jim Lahey's No-Knead Bread, which I have been meaning to attempt it ever since reading about it The New York Times, three years ago.
I wish I could say that three years on the to-do list is a personal record, but it isn't.
Mr. Lahey's recipe calls for straight white flour, but, in deference to DB's wheat intolerance, I substituted spelt flour, which accounts for the density and color.
It was spelt, but it was delicious.
I suspect if you slather enough butter and jam on anything, it will taste delicious, but this loaf disappeared fast.
And, it was just as easy as Mr. Lahey promised it would be. So easy, that half-way through my first bite I was fantasizing about making it every other day.
That was three weeks and one loaf ago.
But I live in hope.