Making Cheese and Setting Booby Traps

I love, love new hobbies. Lately, it seems like the weirder the idea, the more likely I am to latch on to it. Besides the activities I've tried (or am currently trying...), I recently decided to try making cheese. Now, there is some history here, so it's not just one of those ideas that I jumped on out of the blue. Several times, after some drinks, I've lamented to my friends (sorry guys) that my life is too hectic and that I think it's time to move to the country, get some goats, and make cheese. My friend Jenny, who is at least as good at accumulating interests and hobbies as I am, got all over this idea. For my birthday, she bought me a goat cheese making kit. Well, bells started ringing and angels started singing; this was love at first sight. I just knew that I was on my way to becoming South Tulsa's cheese queen.

...sound of screeching brakes... That was a couple of weeks and several gallons of milk ago. Now, the cheese making book and the kit instructions say, "DO NOT USE ULTRA PASTEURIZED MILK!!!!" I think there were actually more exclamation points even. So, being a super rule follower, I headed to the store and bought milk right off of the shelf. It said, "pasteurized" right on the label. There was no "ultra" anywhere on that label. So, I got all of my cheese tools together and started in. I was so pumped (poor bastard).

Well, heated the milk, checked the temp, added the citric acid, checked the temp, added the rennet, checked the temp and waited for the curds to appear. I could see the milk getting thicker and I was well on my way to spending $50 to make mozzarella that I could have picked up for $4, but whatever. Well, the curds looked good to me, so I started scooping them out and pouring off the whey. From the directions in the kit, it seemed like this should be easier than it in fact actually was. I was optimistic though and thought that it would turn out fine. After another 30 minutes trying to coax my ricotta like curds into something resembling mozzarella, I washed it all down the sink while bitching and moaning like you wouldn't believe. I wasn't a bit ashamed until I remembered that my 2 year old was playing tupperware mine field at my feet (that's a favorite game of hers wherein she places tupperware in various positions on the kitchen floor so that I will trip, skid or otherwise injure myself along the path fromt he stove to the sink). She looked at me with a "whatever, I've heard it all before" look. Poor kid.

Not one to be put off a goal, I bought another gallon of milk from a different brand. It turned out equally terrible. So, I "borrowed" half a gallon of Cayton's milk and tried again. This time, I played mad scientist and poured double the rennet into the mix. This too failed. Now, I'm turning my would-be cheese making energy into going after the milk industry. I checked on this "ultra pasteurization" thing and it appears that in an attempt to seem "ultra healthy", milk producers heat the shiznit out of their milk to kill all microbes. Of course, they kill most of the nutrients in milk as well. Ridiculous. I mean, don't they know that I want to make some damn cheese in my kitchen just like everybody else??? Also, you can even find UP milk in foil boxes on a shelf far, far away from a refrigerator case. Now that is just... oh my gawd...

BOOBY TRAPs

My husband constantly teases (read:complains loudly)that I unwittingly booby trap the house to his eventual detriment. Now, if this is true, I believe that he should develop a sense of wariness so that he doesn't continually fall victim, but I guess his sense of self preservation is not as strong as his need to chew on me. ANYWAY... I really did get him good last night and it was completely and totally an accident.

I was making cupcakes and got down to the last bit of batter. I had just enough for four cupcakes. I spooned the batter into the four cupcake papers and then filled the empty cups with water. I heard that was the thing to do. So, I popped the cupcakes into the oven and headed upstairs to snuggle my baby girl. When the timer went off, I asked Blake to get the cakes out of the oven. He ran downstairs, cranked open the oven and then I heard, "Oh, shit!". It dawned on me immediately what had happened and I burst out laughing. I felt bad, but it was really funny. He plodded upstairs, his mouth full of cupcakes and said, "Thanks a lot for setting up the worst booby trap ever" I admit, that was a pretty good one.