Going clockwise, starting on the table at 3 o’clock:

• A five-gallon batch of sour cherry mead in the beginning stages of fermentation, squeee!
• A small fraction (a very small fraction) of the eggs that we’re getting from my daughter’s hens.
• My bowl of leftover ramen, bulked up with broccoli, grilled chicken, and kale.
• Sourdough, bulk proofing.
• A triple batch of sourdough crackers waiting to be rolled out and sprinkled with everything bagel seasoning.
• A box of garden goodies — lettuce, cabbage, broccoli, two kinds of cauliflower, onions, garlic, and a single red beet — from the farm where my son worked that morning.
• A kettle of whey leftover from making cuajada.
• My son’s bowl of ramen, and the bowl of tuna salad he just mixed up for his lunch because he was famished.
• My son fixing a massive sandwich, plus a plate of cheese and crackers and that soup.
• My notebook, opened to the cheesemaking log. (I’d just tasted and packaged a bandage-wrapped cheddar. It was divine.)

And on the counters, starting from the left:

• A dirty skillet leftover from the morning’s eggs: my husband had four and my son had two, plus they both had toast and lassis.
• The instant-read thermometer that I used to make the cheese.
• Two pounds of ground beef thawing for the supper burgers.
• Four jars (tucked behind the olive oil bottle) of sour cherry jam, waiting to be run down cellar.
• Hamburger buns thawing.
• Clabber clabbering.
• The beginnings of a massive pile of dishes that my son washed mid-afternoon.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (6.15.20), a new pie basket, high entertainment, street food, a glimpse, when I sat down.

For the last month or two, I’ve been on a lassi bender. 

A lassi, for those of you who don’t know, is a thinned-down yogurt drink: sometimes it’s sweet, but often it’s savory, jacked up with salt, coriander, turmeric, and the like. It’s like a smoothie, but thinner and less complicated. 

My recent lassi infatuation is only natural, really, considering the insane amount of yogurt we have on hand. Dumping a whole quart of yogurt into the blender still feels excessive — yogurt is expensive! treasure it! — but then I remind myself that I have a whole fridge full of yogurt and it’s free and healthy so just eat it already, Jennifer, and then I get over myself and move on. 

My method is simple: a quart of yogurt, a frozen banana or two, a handful of frozen red raspberries (for color and a pop of tart), and then my secret weapon: a generous scoop of coconut cream.

Coconut cream gives the lassi a kiss of sweet tropical sunshine, and even though it may feel like a luxury, it’s actually not that expensive (about $3/can), and a little goes a long way — a single tin makes 4-6 batches of lassi. Once opened, I cover the can with plastic and pop it into the fridge where it sits, ready to elevate my next lassi. 

Bottom line: If coconut cream isn’t a staple in your kitchen, it should be. 

Lassi

1 quart whole milk yogurt
1-2 frozen bananas
1 cup frozen fruit, like red raspberries or strawberries
2-4 tablespoons coconut cream

Whirl everything together in a blender for a minute. Pour into glasses. Drink.

P.S. A lassi makes for a great breakfast on the road.

enroute to Old Rag

This same time, years previous: pepper jack cheese, barbecue sauce, up, up, up to Utuado, plan our vacation for me, please, the quotidian (6.12.17), a photo book, spinach dip, the business of belonging, the smartest thing I did, Greek cucumber and tomato salad, microwave flower press.

The other day when I was flipping a cheese (or maybe I was getting it out of the press? brining it? whatever), I suddenly blurted, “I’m good at making cheese.” 

black pepper parmesan

My husband mm-hmmed me politely, and everyone else ignored me, but as I puttered about the kitchen I kept thinking about what I’d just said. 

camembert

Three years ago I didn’t know what clabber was, or the differences between mesophilic and thermophilic cultures, or how to do the squeeze test to see if the curds were done cooking or make a saturated salt brine, and now I’m consistently turning out fat wheels of delicious cheese.

baby swiss

I really am good at making cheese!

Here are a few of the stages I’ve gone through thus far. 

• Hope Springs Eternal: where I have zero confidence but truckloads of ambition.
• The Granny Fantasy: where I obsess over finding a cheesemaking granny to teach me how. 
• Death By Information: where I read everything I can get my hands on and watch hours of YouTube videos.
• Finding My People: where I get together with other cheesemakers to discuss process, troubleshoot, and eat cheese. 
• Make All The Cheese: where I do exactly that, because how else will I learn what’s good and what’s not?
• Crash and Burn: where I culture a whole bunch of cheeses with kefir and then throw most of them out because kefir is from the devil. 
• Share The Journey: where I start a YouTube channel, because simply making the cheese isn’t complicated enough. 
• Clabber Me Silly: where I learn the power and glory of clabber and use it to make all my cheeses. 
• Moi Terroir: where I’m finally coming into my own. I know which cheeses we like best and how fast we’ll eat them up. I understand how little tweaks will impact the final product. I know which tools are necessary and which ones are aren’t. I have my own cheesemaking style, complete with techniques and handy little tricks. 

pepper jack

All along I’ve been getting good at making cheese and now I am good at making it. Now I can confidently knock out a 7-pound wheel of cheese in several hours, zero stress, zero drama. It’s just cheese.

cotswold

Which is a marvel, really, considering how much I didn’t know.

***

What are you good at? Whistling? Parallel parking? Growing tomatoes? Typing? Writing books? Telling jokes? Giving IVs? Splitting wood? Apologizing? (Three other things I’m good at: making lists, delegating, and trying new things.)

This same time, years previous: happy pork, milk central, margarita mix, energy boost, the family reunion of 2017, the quotidian (6.8.15), delivery, thorns, Jeni’s chocolate ice cream, how we beat the heat.