(no subject)
Nancy had found the pot. It was, as Helia probably would have assessed, the very worst sort of ditch weed. She was suddenly glad she didn't care to smoke, because after months under Conrad's tutelage, she was too much of a snob to even touch this stuff. ... of course, she realized that had she been a complete stoner like Doug or Andy, she'd just be grateful to find weed growing here at all.
She wasn't entirely sure what provoked her to do some baking, except that after her conversations with Tony and... John (god, could she not even think about him without conjuring up Judah's face?), she realized that she really did need to do something to keep her occupied, and it wasn't as if she had that many useful skills. Baking with pot happened to be one of them, and even if she risked outing herself to those who might disapprove of her previous occupation, she had a feeling that more people around here would appreciate it rather than be scandalized.
The trick, which most idiot college boys don't realize the first time they get the bright idea to eat their stash, is that the weed goes in the butter. Nancy had actually been up early that morning gathering the key ingredient and then making the butter, before there was anyone up and about in the kitchen. Some strong coffee and some cinnamon bread later, and you couldn't even smell the weed. That is, not unless you stuck your nose in the big greenish-yellow lump of cannabutter in the fridge.
And now that that was solidified, she drained the excess, and voila! Time for baking! It actually hadn't been as difficult as she'd thought to find the ingredients - there was already some baker's chocolate whipped up (there wasn't a sign on it that said DO NOT USE or anything, so she assumed it was fair game), along with eggs, flour, and the rest.
By the time she started stirring it all together, you could definitely smell something strange, but the chocolate scent would probably overwhelm it unless you were already familiar with the scent. She hummed under her breath as she worked, some old Helen Reddy song that she couldn't remember the name of.
[OOC: Pot brownies, by request! Feel free to have your pup come in either while she's cooking or after they're done, whichever you prefer.]
She wasn't entirely sure what provoked her to do some baking, except that after her conversations with Tony and... John (god, could she not even think about him without conjuring up Judah's face?), she realized that she really did need to do something to keep her occupied, and it wasn't as if she had that many useful skills. Baking with pot happened to be one of them, and even if she risked outing herself to those who might disapprove of her previous occupation, she had a feeling that more people around here would appreciate it rather than be scandalized.
The trick, which most idiot college boys don't realize the first time they get the bright idea to eat their stash, is that the weed goes in the butter. Nancy had actually been up early that morning gathering the key ingredient and then making the butter, before there was anyone up and about in the kitchen. Some strong coffee and some cinnamon bread later, and you couldn't even smell the weed. That is, not unless you stuck your nose in the big greenish-yellow lump of cannabutter in the fridge.
And now that that was solidified, she drained the excess, and voila! Time for baking! It actually hadn't been as difficult as she'd thought to find the ingredients - there was already some baker's chocolate whipped up (there wasn't a sign on it that said DO NOT USE or anything, so she assumed it was fair game), along with eggs, flour, and the rest.
By the time she started stirring it all together, you could definitely smell something strange, but the chocolate scent would probably overwhelm it unless you were already familiar with the scent. She hummed under her breath as she worked, some old Helen Reddy song that she couldn't remember the name of.
[OOC: Pot brownies, by request! Feel free to have your pup come in either while she's cooking or after they're done, whichever you prefer.]