Version One It’s nearly been a month since I pulled my hamstring, and, not to be dramatic or anything, going cold turkey on all physical activity has been tough. Without my morning runs, walks with friends, and Ultimate games, and without a need to cook or eat, I sank into a puddle of self-pity and despair. Withdrawal symptoms included, but were not limited to, malaise, end-times thinking, apathy, bodily heaviness, self-pitying thoughts, low energy, loss of appetite, and an unreasonable urge to eat down the house. Seriously. Even though I wasn’t hungry, all I wanted to do was eat. It was ridiculous.
On the flipside, I’ve had more time for writing.
Version Two A couple days after I pulled my hamstring, I tried to go for a walk and only made it about a half mile before having to turn back because my leg just wasn’t functioning properly and I was afraid I was doing real damage, but then when my leg didn’t hurt any worse the next day, I began to go on regular walks even though they were time-consuming, didn’t raise my heart rate hardly at all, and made me feel like I’d aged thirty years, but nevertheless I persisted and I kept doing my hamstring strengthening exercises (and making my husband give my leg a deep tissue massage every night) and then after a couple long weeks my older son suggested we go on a bike ride and that was so refreshing that I went on another bike ride the following week and then, a couple days later, I, in a burst of optimism, biked the ten miles from town to my house on my own and it was glorious but, wouldn’t you know, then my knee started hurting like the dickens and, via some quick internet research, I discovered that my (self-diagnosed) bursitis was a consequence of a tight hamstring and I was like THIS IS NEVER GOING TO END WAAAAAH and began considering private swimming lessons and a pool membership but then I managed to mostly stay off my feet for a couple days while religiously icing my knee and popping Ibuprofen, which made me feel actually good enough to attempt a short run, and now, because my knee and hamstring are both considerably better (or at least not worse), I’m letting myself run a slow mile or two every other day which is doing wonders for my mental health but I still can’t play Ultimate, pant-pant.
We’re slowly getting the hang of this milk thing. I’m working with three — no, four — main components: the milk, yogurt, cheese, and whey. Here, let me show you.
The Milk The first few weeks, I thought the milk tasted stronger than it should. Farmy, or something. I’d read that a rapid chill-time was key to keeping milk fresh-tasting, so I started making my younger son keep the “collecting” bucket in a pan of ice water while he was milking, and now the milk tastes much better.
While my son was getting a bit faster at milking, it was still taking him at least an hour to get a gallon and a half. So, at my dad’s urging, we borrowed an electric milker from a neighbor and now he’s getting two-plus gallons in about fifteen minutes. (Update: this morning it took three minutes.) The whole process still takes time — setting up, washing the milker afterwards — but it’s much faster.
We get hardly any cream! We’re not sure why — is she saving all the hind milk (where the cream is) for the calves? is her diet missing something? is it because she’s a Holstein? — and I’m pretty bummed about it, but, oh well. I never skim the milk. We just shake the cream in before using it, and if I want cream, I buy it from the store.
Yogurt Making A friend told me that boiled milk makes a thicker yogurt, which seemed counterintuitive — one would think that a barely heated milk would allow for more bacterial growth which would then lead to a thicker yogurt — so I experimented: barely heated fresh milk versus boiled milk, and, sure enough, the boiled milk was thicker.
I’ve also tried stirring a bit of xanthan gum into the milk prior to heating and incubating. The resulting yogurt was extremely thick — nearly half of it was whey — but far too tangy and grainy. So never mind that idea.
with the xanthan gum: grainy
I’ve also strained some of the homemade yogurt to make Greek yogurt. I like it, but I think I prefer the looser, non-drained version. It’s lighter and sweeter. More refreshing.
My mom doesn’t like the layer of cream that you get on the top of homemade, raw-milk yogurt and challenged me to figure out a way to make it without that separation. I queried all my raw milk yogurt-making family members and friends, and did a bunch of internet research, but no luck. Apparently, a cream cap on raw milk yogurt is just par for the course. Sorry, Mom. Just scrape off the cream cap and carry on.
The other day I made some yogurt that turned out wildly tangy. I had no idea why; I’d done it the exact same way the day before. Perhaps I’d left it in the incubator for a little too long? But I’ve left it in even longer other times and it’s been fine. The only other thing I could think of was that I was also making two cheeses at the time and perhaps a bit of citric acid dust floated through the air and screwed it all up? Who knows. We fed it to the dogs.
I still haven’t landed on a perfect yogurt-making formula. Sometimes, for whatever reason, there’s more whey on top, or it’s super creamy or extra thick, or it’s unusually sweet. I can’t figure it out. I know a lot of you making your own yogurt at home, so if you’ve discovered some tricks — religiously temping the milk, using fresh starter every time, or using a lot of starter or a very little starter, whatever — please share. I’d love to get really good at this.
Cheesemaking I’ve been steadily experimenting: ricotta, fromage blanc, queso fresco, queso blanco, cuajada (a Nicaraguan farm cheese), paneer, etc. The actual names are sort of confusing, since, in some cases the methods are almost identical — like, paneer and queso blanco are basically the same thing, and ricotta is like paneer but without the pressing, and so on.
set with rennet and mesophilic starter: for queso fresco
The similarities make me think that cheesemaking is, perhaps, a lot like making bread: once you get a feel for it, you can kind be as precise or as casual as you like — it all depends on what you’re going for.
set with rennet: for cuajada
So I’m beginning to relinquish my death grip on the recipes and instead focus on how it feels, messing around with different coagulants and temperatures and methods, as per however the heck I feel and based on what I want. It’s liberating.
curds for queso fresco
So far, cuajada might be my favorite — I’m building the recipe based on memory, and some internet research — and paneer is a close second. Ricotta third.
cuajada
after six hours at 35 pounds of pressure: queso fresco
But these cheeses are quite different from their store-bought equivalents, so you can’t always use them interchangeably. Therefore, I’m working to create my own cheeses that I’ll name based on how I use them. Accurately-named cheeses will help manage expectations and allow me to keep my methods straight in my head.
butter chicken with paneer
cuajada
So… recipes forthcoming, I hope. Stay tuned!
Whey I don’t have a good use for the whey.
I’ve made bread with it — whey in place of water — but while it makes a wonderfully tender bread, it only uses a few cups. And I have gallons.
One friend suggested using the whey to make mint tea. I said that sounded gross. She said, Think mango lassi. Me, Oh.
But then I tried it and, while actually surprisingly good, the tea had a heavier mouthfeel and I’m used to mint tea being light and bright. But I bet it’d be good in a smoothie, yes? (Or it would be, anyway, if I wasn’t already making smoothies to use up all the milk and yogurt.)
And then another friend suggested using the whey in place of water in soups — potato, veggie, chowder, etc — but again: I have gallons of the stuff. Also, it’s not exactly soup weather.
So for now I’m either feeding the whey to the dogs or dumping it down the drain.
One enormous plus of all this milk? We’ve dramatically reduced our plastic waste. I never really thought about it all that much, but now, after a morning of cheese and yogurt making, the counter will be littered with dirty jars and I can’t help but realize how much plastic I’m not using. It’s a pretty cool feeling.
Ever since we moved into our house, our bedroom has been plagued with a useless corner nook. Too small for a desk or chair, too bright to store clothes or books (because of the enormous window), and too out-of-the-way for anyone to actually hang out back there, it’s always ended up being a catch-all for clutter. I hated it.
From the door looking in.
From the center of the room: awkward corner, closet, bedroom-bathroom wall. Note the patched floor where the old stairs were.
From the bed: awkward corner with window on the left, built-in closet and the bedroom-bathroom wall, hallway.
It was all our fault since we were the ones who renovated the place. Ever since, we’ve wanted to fix it, but we never could settle on a plan. We’d shift things around — put in a sofa and then take it out, add a homemade desk, change dressers or bedstands or lighting — but it wasn’t until a few months ago that we actually started talking about it. Like, productively brainstorming “LET’S GET ON WITH IT ALREADY” solutions. We talked about big things, like moving the bathroom or taking out the window. I even suggested making a false wall and boarding up that corner entirely. After much deliberation, we finally came up with an idea.
But first, let me back up. Like, way back up. Here’s what our house looked like when we bought it.
The boxy part on the end had been added on to the main house at some point. On the addition’s first floor was a bedroom and bathroom, and a set of stairs that led up to two tiny bedrooms. The upstairs of the addition was not connected to the upstairs of the main house. On both levels of the addition, the ceilings were low.
one of the addition’s bedrooms
So my husband took out the stairs in the addition and jacked up the first floor ceiling by about 9 inches. He made the downstairs bathroom bigger (and we kept the downstairs bedroom — our guest room). The upstairs part of the addition became one big bedroom with a gloriously high ceiling, and a bathroom. He connected the upstairs of the addition to the rest of the house with a hallway and, since the addition portion was still lower than the main house, two steps.
note the different levels between the main house and the addition
And then we moved in and I had a baby on the floor.
So that’s the story of our room and its problematic corner. We have a plan for how to fix it, but we’re moving slowly, in stages. If any of you have some good suggestions, speak up now. We just may be able to incorporate them.
