In the raw

I’ve started getting a weekly gallon or two of r*aw milk. Yes, extra character thrown in because in Ohio, r-a-w is a dirty word. Illegal, as a matter of fact. Never one to let the man tell me what I can and can’t eat (see chickens & eggs), I jumped at the chance to join a herd share when it was offered to me a few weeks ago. This is something I’ve wanted in my life for years, but the drive has always been too long and the time commitment too overwhelming. I’m probably out of my gourd adding in one more thing right now, but I think (hope) once I’ve spent a few weeks mastering how to use the milk, it will be easy to make it routine. I really want to get down off the industrial milk horse. Cow. You know what I mean.

Last week’s foray into making fresh mozzarella with the first two gallons was a total bomb. I didn’t let the curds acidify quite long enough, so they didn’t spin (melt and bind together into a long strand). I did test a walnut sized piece in the warm water bath before I began, and it seemed to stretch, but now I have a more clear understanding of what stretch feels like. Or at least of what it doesn’t feel like. Lesson learned.

I purchased some Ph strips so I can be sure next time. Meanwhile I have two pounds of cheese curd that doesn’t melt very well. I’m open to any suggestions for how to use it to its best advantage, so if you have any ideas, please let me know. I’m thinking lasagna for starters. Or working it into some kind of bread situation with pesto.

Science. Who knew?

I picked up a new gallon today, fresh from the Jersey cow on Saturday at noon, it came with a thick layer of cream on top. I used the cream from last week’s two gallons to make a quart of creme fraiche, which I’ll use on my new favorite vegetable enchiladas and dolloped in soup with fresh parsley sprinkled on top. Lila asked me to not make cheese or yogurt with this week’s milk because she wants to be able to drink it. Still, there’s the question of what to do with all the cream. This time I thought we’d try our hand at making butter.

When Lila got home from school, we spooned the cream into a couple of quart mason jars, each with a pinch of sea salt, and began to shake. She noted that it’s really hard work making butter. We counted to 100 and lost count of how many times. She said, “It looks like egg. Gross.” It kind of did for about thirty seconds. We were both amazed at how quickly it changed from one texture to another to another.

After about ten minutes of shaking the thickened cream suddenly clotted together and separated from the buttermilk, which we’ll use in our cornbread tonight. It was like magic the way one second it was all one texture, and with one shake it was two – thick, yellow butter, and thin buttermilk. We strained it, and pressed as much of the buttermilk out as we could with a couple of spoons, then scooped it into this sweet little butter container my friend Lorin gave to me last summer. It sits out on the counter, upside down with the opening submerged in cool water in the bowl, which forms a seal to keep it from spoiling.

Now the house is filling with the savory scent of roasting chicken that I quick brined for a few hours today with lemon, garlic, rosemary, thyme, and oregano. It’s one of my friend Baron’s pastured chickens, and I’m enjoying the hell out of knowing that my freezer has nine of these awesome birds in it for the winter. Each one makes at least two meals, plus a big pot of chicken stock.

I’ll put together a quick corn bread to serve as a homemade butter delivery system, and stew the Romano beans given to me by one of the market vendors this week in a massive gift basket(s) thanking me for the season. There’s a jar of jalapeno jelly that might be nice on the cornbread, too. Also a turbin squash that I will bake and mash with a sprinkle of brown sugar, and maybe some of the butter.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with how abundant my life here in Kent has become now that I’ve stopped wishing for it to be another place and another time. Here and now is quite delicious.

Tagged as: abundance, butter, cream, new, old-fashioned, pastured chicken