yogurt, part deux

I know it seems like an unreasonable amount of time between yogurt updates, for those of you on the edge of your seats, but just to remind you: I had to wait for warm weather to set in around these parts, since we still have not solved the riddle on whether it’s possible to make yogurt in cold climates. It’s probably not a riddle, but I spend my googling time on other things, and haven’t gotten around to looking it up, okay? But it’s been warm in June, so one night I brought home another quart of whole milk, fended off Other Half from eating it with cereal, followed the steps, turned the oven on and off within 2 minutes this time, wrapped the bowl in plastic wrap AND a towel, and placed in the oven overnight.

Was I more optimistic the next morning? Yes!  Well, actually, I totally forgot about it and only remembered when Other Half – who was about to bake something for breakfast – calls from the kitchen, “Hey, why is there a bowl of milk in the oven?”

Dammit! Again? I dash into the kitchen to examine my second failure.

“Well,” Other Half offers, “it kinda smells like yogurt.” I lean in. It DOES. I stir it around. It’s a little thicker, actually. I mean, thicker than milk, which doesn’t seem to say a lot but is still an improvement from my first attempt. I decide to put it in the refrigerator for awhile to see what happens.

Hours later, it’s…definitely thicker. A little. And definitely still smells like yogurt. But it’s still….definitely really thin. I remember that I read somewhere that you should strain yogurt through cheesecloth to get Greek yogurt-like consistency. I have cheesecloth! This could work!

Except it doesn’t; it doesn’t do anything except promptly pour 3/4 of what I have through the cheesecloth into the drain. Epic fail, I would mutter to myself if I were in my 20s and/or possibly early 30s, maybe stretching into 34. This self-sufficiency movement may not be for me. I see, faintly, in the distance, a lifetime of Chobani stretched out before me.

I guess I’ll live, if that happens. Just don’t expect me to be the Yogurt Lady after the Apocalypse is all.

Of course, the worst part is that I see my Yogurt Making Friends the next week and have to explain the situation. They shake their heads in puzzlement. “I’m just going to have to come over and make it with you,” they say. “I think once you get a feel for it it will all make sense.”

I feel resigned and skeptical about this approach, but I’m willing to try it, for argument’s sake. Updates soon. Struggle to contain yourself.


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