Not. happy.

In: Food

20 May 2008
Sometimes going back to basics kind of sucks. I just spent 45 minutes stirring a quart of milk as it heated and cooled for homemade yogurt–no big deal, except standing that long kills my back, but it’s worth a little pain to have my favorite treat whenever I want it. And then I spilled the whole thing. All over the washing machine. And behind it. And under it.

Have I mentioned how much I hate cleaning up messes?

  • Susannah

    Hi LaVonne,

    Urgh on spilling the milk!! What does your recipe call for? I ask because I make yogurt from our goat milk almost weekly and I heat the milk to 115 degrees, stir in the culture (i.e., other yogurt), then put it in our gas stove oven which is at 115 degrees (lucky me!) with the pilot overnight. It doesn’t take too long to heat a half gal. to 115 degrees. Some recipes call for much higher heats even with pasturized milk and I don’t know why. We are raw milk advocates so I wouldn’t heat mine too high anyway.
    And thank you for posting the “Ellen” video – it is exciting! Here in Vermont, we have had civil unions for 8 years (we are having our 8 yr. anniversary in July!) but it is time for us to have full marriage equality.

    Susannah

  • http://bornfamous.com bornfamous

    Susannah, my recipe calls for heating the milk to 185 degrees, then cooling to 115 before adding the culture. I think the extra heat is to kill any pathogens.

    Happy anniversary in advance! I agree that it’s time for equality. The “protecting the family” argument makes no sense. Protecting the family from what? Then I remembered my younger days during the civil rights movement. White parents were terrified their child would grow up to marry one of THEM and give them little pickaninnies, as my mother called them, for grandchildren. [Sorry, Mom. I know you didn't mean it the way it sounded.]

    Now, I think these parents are petrified their kids will TURN GAY if gays are treated as equals!

About this blog

I'm not really famous. In case you were wondering. But I tried. I once believed that fame makes you real - a perversion of "The Velveteen Rabbit" theme that love makes you real. Guess I equated fame with love. Sad. You can read more about that here.

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