This is a little bit how I feel about having our own milk cow: both incredulous and giddy. 

It’s not perfect (I’m mad about the cream), but it’s still pretty awesome.

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What We Spent Our Money On. (New York Times) I love talking about personal budgets — the intricacies of how we save it, spend it, give it — and would freely tell all here, except, I am told, hearing people talk openly about their finances is a little bit like watching someone run around naked: horrifying, disturbing, and culturally inappropriate. So I don’t.

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Here’s another fun New York Times article: the invisible greenspeople and what they do, all about the people who create the landscaping for movies, like moving whole trees(!) The backstory of art-in-the-making is, I think, maybe even better than the final product. Does everyone feel like this or am I the only one? 

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I mentioned that my older son skipped our family road trip in order to go to Hawaii with his friend, a week which was, according to him, “arguably the seven best consecutive days of my life.”

^{photo credit: Theo}

He rented a beefy motorcycle and solo toured the Kauai Coast, went on a rafting tour, and skydived. (His friend’s parachute didn’t open — GULP — and the instructor had to pull the emergency chute’s ripcord.) 

hitch-hiking

When we were hiking down the Beehive, he called to talk: six hours earlier than us, he was hiking up a mountain by himself in the pitch black to see the sunrise. There are wild boars here, he said. I don’t care, I said. I’m getting over a near-death experience myself.

Hearing his tales, I was reminded of what I’d told my kids after our Belize vacation went horribly awry. “You have your whole lives ahead of you in which to explore the world and find the best coral reefs,” we said. “When you find them, send us photos, ‘kay?” 

So then my son one-upped me and made a little video. Enjoy! 

This same time, years previous: so you’re thinking of homeschooling.., Vieques!, weekending, continued, the summer’s first trip, creamy cauliflower sauce, when the wind blew, berry almond baked oatmeal.

Hey-hey! Quick pop in here to point out the obvious: it’s hot. Out on the West Coast it’s apocalyptically hot, and here it’s just regular hot, but either way it’s hot. Things are looking up, though! At least for here — by Friday we’ll be topping out at 75 and I’ve made exciting plans to run the oven all day. 

In the meantime, I made popsicles. These aren’t just any popsicles, mind — they’re whey popsicles.

Wait! Don’t leave! Hear me out! 

I know I said I tried whey in tea and didn’t like it but then I checked a milk book out of the library and it had an innovative recipe for whey-based popsicles and it actually sounded good so I tried it and they were so here I am, eating — or slurping — my words. 

Actually, I haven’t eaten a single popsicle yet. But! After I got done filling the popsicle thingies, I used the leftover juice to make a drink and it was all sorts of yum.

So with this recipe, you’ve got two options: beverage or snack. Or — and I haven’t tried this yet — add the juice to a fruit smoothie, or freeze it in ice cube trays to later fancify some lemonade, or drizzle it over vanilla ice cream or pancakes, or, or, or…

You get the point.

P.S. I had a popsicle this afternoon while standing on the deck and watching a storm blow in (and then miss us). The popsicle was creamy and tart and fruity and delicious and refreshing. All the boxes, ticked.  

Fruity Whey Popsicles
Adapted from a recipe found in Milk Made by Nick Haddow and Alan Benson.

The original recipe called for roasted plums but you can use whatever you have on hand: strawberries, cherries, blackberries, etc. I used about five cups of frozen red raspberries, simmered with a bit of water on the stovetop until soft and jammy, and then pressed through a sieve to remove the seeds. 

I used whey from making yogurt cheese (more on this soon); of all the wheys I’ve tried, this one, I think, tastes the most mild and sweet. 

4-6 cups fruit
2 tablespoons looseleaf black tea
½ cup sugar
2 cups whey

Roast the fruit, or simmer in a saucepan over low heat, until jammy and soft. If needed, add a bit of water to the fruit so it doesn’t dry out. Press through a fine-mesh sieve to remove seeds and/or skin. 

In a separate kettle, simmer for the whey, sugar, and black tea for ten minutes or so. Strain, discarding the tea leaves. (Not sure why I can’t combine this step with the first, hmm….)

Whisk together the whey and fruit juice and chill. Pour into popsicle molds and freeze.

To serve as a beverage: pour 1-2 tablespoons of mixture into the bottom of a glass. Fill the rest of the way with seltzer or tonic water and ice. Garnish with fresh herbs, if desired. 

This same time, years previous: day trip, weekending, twist and shout, smash hit, blueberry pie, the big apple, linguine with shrimp and cilantro-lime pesto, spaghetti with swiss chard, raisins, and apples, homemade yogurt.

The next morning, we drug the kids out of bed, loaded the van, and then started our trek back down the coast.

Lil’s Cafe

We stopped at Kittery for breakfast-which-was-actually-lunch and then headed on into Boston where we spent the rest of the day walking the Freedom Trail, poking our heads in little Italian groceries, and forcing the kids to keep walking. 

The warship’s mixer looks awfully familiar. Also, is that a sheeter?!

Ice cream cones coated with Rice Krispy treats!

Jerusalem bagel from Tatte.

We’d made reservations for a hotel close to the airport, but then we drove there and realized that it was in the airport and we had to pay 55.00 dollars for valet service and then our car was whisked away and we were stranded in airport land: a situation that, if we weren’t so tired and hungry, would’ve been hilarious (and still was, a little bit). Actually, it gave me twinges of PTSD, leftover trauma from our Belize fiasco which was, undeniably, LEAGUES worse than being stranded in a comfy hotel for a night. 

We made the best of it, though — my husband and younger daughter went foraging on foot for food and found a pizza place — and the next morning my son and husband played in the pool and then we feasted on the hotel’s hot, free (nothing’s free, ha!) breakfast.

And then we tore out of the hotel last minute to meet up with my (distant) cousin and his family to go whale watching — our trip splurge.

The whales were neat (we saw a humpback and her calf from a distance) but what I really liked was the boat ride. For much of the four-hour trip, I stood out at the front on the part that jutted out into the ocean. It was mesmerizing, watching as the boat lifted up over a swell and then nosedived back down. Like being on a roller coaster, almost. It was the first time I’d ever really been out on the open ocean like that; even with calm seas, it was thrilling. 

Then back to Framingham for the evening and the hard part: saying goodbye to our daughter.

It was much harder to say goodbye this time than when she’d first left home back in January, maybe because the separation feels more permanent now — we know she’s going to be at this farm for another year, at least — or maybe because, driving up to MA, we got to feel the physical distance between us. Or maybe because being with her for a week reminded me of how much fun she is, or because it was all of us leaving her there, by herself. She loves her work, and she’s with good people (and has good friends), but she’s doing all this on her own. Even though everything is as it should be, as we all want it to be, it’s still hard.

Another hotel…

another twelve hours of driving and then, after a grand total of one thousand, nine hundred and two miles, we were home again, and in our fridge there was a homemade supper from my mother, ahhh. 

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (6.29.20), roasted zucchini parmesan, we have arrived, fútbol, a break in the clouds, goat cheese whipped cream, red beet greens.