Daylight’s savings ends next weekend (I wish they’d do away with it once and for all) so it’s time to break out the soup pots and twinkle lights. 

This morning I strung new lights (I’d ordered several strands in advance of the Christmas rush) above the living room hutch and atop our wardrobe, and just minutes ago I ordered these globe lights to dangle by the coffee maker in the kitchen. (UPDATE: Do NOT buy the globe lights. Turns out they are a weird greenish-yellow and they’re battery-powered. Clearly, I stink at reading product descriptions.)

On a less-fun note: I’ve had terrible luck with candles recently.

candles that burned and didn’t stink, and munchins of yore

I bought a whole bunch of duds at the thrift store (at least the money goes to a good cause) and then three of the four candles that I got in a Costco pack had a chemically smell to them that pricked the inside of my nose even though they smelled good in the store. (I’m donating them to the aforementioned thrift store, so candle buyers, beware.) 

***

I love, love, love seeing what other people eat, so this video of a girl documenting what she eats at her Nonna’s house for a whole week makes me inordinately happy. 

And then she posted a video of what she ate at her other grandmother’s house in Maldova, the best part of which was the wedding. Seriously, you have got to check it out. The endless feasting makes our little three-hour weddings look positively impoverished. (Warning: don’t watch the video on a full stomach.)

***

After I posted about our painful mattress situation, my cousin(-in-law) gave us a used mattress topper they had in storage. It made our bed softer, but the body imprints accentuated the divide between us and my husband still woke up sore.

My husband’s face: “Stupid fancy mattress is as hard as these boards.”

He fussed until a couple weeks ago when he finally realized I wasn’t going to do anything about it (I was more or less okay with it) and fell down the research rabbit hole. And then he ordered a new topper for 200 bucks. 

Folks, it’s AMAZING.

This is how we feel about the topper.
^{photo from my cousin’s wedding last month}

I feel firmly supported all over when I sleep and the best part is that there is no longer a mountain range between us (which means I’m constantly encroaching on my husband’s space, ha!). My husband says he wishes it were a wee bit softer, but I think it’s perfect.

***

Have you seen The White Lotus (HBOMax)?

It’s a perfect blend of mystery, comedy, and trashy-fun, and the acting is superb with a plotline that has us guessing, constantly analyzing the characters and discussing the different directions the story might go. (My husband can hardly handle the cringe-factor — he hates shows that center around entitled rich people like Downton Abbey and Inventing Anna — but he’s hanging in there with me. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably binge it.) 

***

My mother said I might enjoy this Fresh Air interview with NYT Cooking food writer Melissa Clark, and she was right — I loved Melissa’s fast-talking energy, as well as her solid cooking sense, flexibility, and lack of airs. Afterward, I looked up her videos on YouTube. Thanks to the one on apple pie, I’ve now started adding lemon zest, fresh nutmeg, and ginger to my pies (and they’re better for it).

And then I found this video where she gave a tour of her kitchen:

Those spice drawers! The salt collection! I may have watched it three times.

***

My mom developed an aversion to plastic coffee filters (she doesn’t like putting hot drinks/food in plastic) so last year for her birthday I got her a stainless steal coffee press, zero plastic.

But turned out she preferred her own hand-sewn coffee filters, so she gave it back to me, which was kinda what I’d been hoping she’d do all along. Children, take note: if you want something, buy it for your parents and you may eventually inherit it.

Now I use the press, but for loose-leaf tea, not coffee, since I already have three coffee makers (an aeropress, a regular coffee pot, and an espresso machine). Obviously, I don’t mind plastic.

On chilly mornings after I finish sipping my plastic-infused coffee, I tumble some mint tea leaves into the stainless steel canister, add a bit of honey or some sugar, and then top it off with some boiling water.

After it steeps for a few minutes, I push the plunger down. The tea stays warm for as long as it takes me to drink it all up. 

Thanks, Mom!

***

My daughter is dogsitting a rat terrier-esque dog this weekend, which inspired our last night dinner guests to show us this video on ratting terrier dogs doing their ratty work.

It’s weirdly satisfying to watch. 

***

Have a great weekend, friends!

This same time, years previous: brisket in sweet-and-sour sauce, the quotidian (10.28.19), cilantro lime rice, listening, watching, reading, the business of schools, the quotidian (10.28.13), the quotidian (10.29.12), under the grape arbor.

Just last week, my husband switched to twice-a-day milkings. On average, we were getting just under 2 gallons of milk each day which wasn’t enough for all my cheesemaking projects (and as for extra cream for butter and ice cream, forget about it). 

Morning: my husband is milking Emma in the shed, Fiona’s to the left, Butterscotch to the right.

Here’s the new system: Fiona and Emma are separated all the time. He milks in the evening, and then, after the morning milking, he keeps Emma in the front paddock and brings Fiona in to nurse.

This once-a-day feeding helps to keep Emma’s production up, helps to prevent mastitis by stripping Emma out all the way, and keeps Fiona from bellowing all day long. 

Right before he leaves for work, he separates them again.

So far, we’re getting about 2 gallons in the morning and a gallon-plus in the evening, and there’s more cream to boot!

***

The other evening, at my husband’s urging, I milked for the very first time. He was so delighted he took pictures. 

Emma’s a sweet cow. Once she’s done eating, she just stands there patiently waiting for us to finish milking. Even so, working with such a large animal unnerves me a little. 

***

Nearly two years into this milking thing, I’m catching on to something: in order to get all the cream I need for butter, sour cream, whipping cream, cream cheese, etc, I need an excess of milk from which to skim that cream — and then to toss the skimmed milk. Even though I know that “tossed” doesn’t mean wasted — the skimmed milk goes to the animals, off-setting feed costs — it’s still physically painful for me to feed all that fresh skimmed milk to the pigs. But I’m learning, gradually adapting to a more pragmatic view of life with a family milk cow. 

***

Speaking of cream, I’m addicted to my homemade butter. 

In the beginning, I wasn’t so sure (the flavor was stronger than I was used to and it just kinda weirded me out a little), but now I can’t get enough. I still keep store-bought butter on hand for baking projects where I don’t want to waste the homemade stuff, or in recipes where I’m worried that a variation in moisture content may adversely alter the final outcome, but for everything else, it’s homemade butter all the way, baby — and lots of it. 

***

A couple months ago, we borrowed a bull.

Butterscotch was in heat when he arrived (she all but flashed her ankles and screamed pick me, pick me), and my husband gave Emma an injection to bring her into heat, but even though there was a fair bit of action, both cows’ blood tests came back negative.

Well, Butterscotch was negative and Emma was inconclusive. (I hadn’t realized we were suppose to wait 30 days before drawing blood and testing, so it was too early to tell.)

Last weekend we tested Emma again. 

a photo from the earlier blood draw

Testing involves a blood draw from the tail, and both times we’ve done it, my older son came over to help. I can get the needle in just fine, but then I have to wiggle it around to find the vein which makes my husband freak and then I freak. This last time, my son literally drew the blood blind while standing on either sides of the stall, straddling Emma and facing backwards. He held the tail and then reached around to maneuver the still-dangling needle and syringe, and then, mission accomplished, he dropped to the floor and declared himself the Spider Doctor.

I doubt Emma’s pregnant, so I have a feeling Mr. Big Balls will be making another visit soon.

***

I’m beginning to experiment a little more with cheesemaking. I’ve done my first blue (the saga is thoroughly documented on my YouTube channel), later today I’ll be ordering some new-to-me molds and cultures, and I just made my first Bries. I also ordered pH strips, a cheese trier (for checking the center of the cheese without cutting into the wheel), and ash for some bloomy, white mold cheese.

I needed a bigger mold for Brie and then I found this thrift store colander. It worked!

Many blues, washed-rind, and bloomy white cheeses need to have a natural rind — no vacuum sealing — in order to properly develop. Since I don’t have an actual cheese cave, and the molds easily spread from cheese to cheese…

case in point: even in separate containers, this Jarlsberg still took on some blue.

…the cheeses need to be aged in ripening boxes which, I’m discovering, are ridiculously hard to come by. They’re just regular plastic containers, but properly sizing them is tricky, and who wants to spend tons of money on plastic containers? Not me! (I did just buy a couple at Dollar General that I thought would be perfect, but when I tried to clip on the lids this morning, I discovered that the lid dips down in the middle and presses on the Bries, grrr.)

eager to see how the flavor develops after six months in an 8% salt brine solution

***

P.S. As I was finalizing this post, Emma’s lab results came in. She’s not prego, grumble, grumble.

This same time, years previous: currently, vanilla fondant, nourishment, the young adult child, growing it out, reading-and-ice cream evenings, the quotidian (10.27.14), in the garden, sweet potato pie.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

Crisp, juicy apples from an old tree in our yard: if only they had flavor.

For the dogs and burgers (recipe).

If you don’t know what to cook, fry up some peppers and onions. Inspiration will follow.

Grilled bun, homemade cheddar and colby, bacon, and sweet pickles.

If this hurts your eyes, imagine my poor nose!
(Scent of dead mouse with a dash of rotten potato, anyone?)

Bakery loot.

Long day.

In my mind, all butter dishes glow.
^{photo credit: my younger son}

The sofa ate my phone, and then my husband’s hand. Hilarity ensued.

Golden Birthday: 23 on the 23rd.

This same time, years previous: vote!, 2017 garden notes and stats, the quotidian (10.24.16), winter squash soup with corn relish, our cracking whip, random, breaking news, aging, it’s over.