One of his favourite treats is applesauce, especially applesauce with blueberries pureed into it.

I had been buying those little pre-packaged pots of unsweetened applesauce, since they are pretty cheap, easily portable and a reasonable size.  One day, Mister decided that he could do better.  “Don’t buy anymore of those applesauce things,” he said.  “I’m going to make my own.  It’ll be better”.

We went to the store and bought a bunch of apples and some apple juice.  One night while I was out, the magic happened.  I came back from wherever I’d been to Mister in the kitchen.  He immediately brought me a spoonful to taste, and proudly proclaimed “No sugar added!”  It was, I have to admit, a pretty tasty applesauce.

A day or so later (we were all sick, including the baby, and didn’t eat solids for a time) while Mister was at work, I decided to try RuRu with Daddy’s Applesauce: Made with Love.  I settled him in his highchair and put a little bit in a bowl.  Once he saw the bowl, he realized food was coming and started to get excited!

I offered him a spoonful.  He took it.  I waited expectantly for his laugh of delight from this delicious treat…. but instead was greeted with…

I missed the gag... but I caught this

He didn’t like it.  I tried again.  Maybe it was just because it was a new flavour.  This time I got…

No! Not that!

I’ve offered it time and time again, and it doesn’t get any better.  He’d rather have the commercial, packaged stuff than the fruits of our labour.  I’m not going to give up, I’ll keep offering. Eventually I’ll wear him down.

I hope.

Today I shall chronicle our latest foray into condo homesteading – microwave mozzarella.  Clearly, cheesemaking is a skill I’ll need when I have goats/cows/sheep and need something to do with all that milk.

We’ve tried this recipe before, with some success.  Mister and I decided to give it another go, because there was definitely room for improvement.

The ingredients are pretty simple: 4L of milk, citric acid, rennet, and salt.

I forgot to put the salt in the photo. Imagine it's there next to the citric acid (the white stuff on the left)

Equipment is also pretty simple:  A thermometer, a microwavable bowl, and a big ol’ stainless steel pot.

To start off with, we brought the milk up to room temperature (we heated it on the stove, but you can also leave it on the counter for an hour or so).  When it was warm enough, we added the citric acid (we used 1 teaspoon dissolved in a little bit of water).  A gentle stir, and it started to curdle immediately.  We were thrilled!

Curds

Almost ready for rennet!

Next, we heated the milk to 90 degrees F (I got the recipe from an American magazine and haven’t bothered to do the conversions… sorry fellow Canucks).  Then, added the rennet (also dissolved in a small amount of water).  We used junkett rennet, because we couldn’t find cheesemaker’s rennet.  Even junkett rennet was darn hard to find.  Junkett rennet isn’t as good, so you need to use a little more.  The recipe called for 1/2 tablet, but we used a whole tablet.

The rennet is dissolved in water so that it distributes evenly

Once the rennet was incorporated, we continued heating to 105 degrees F.  At this point we turned off the heat and waited.  There was definitely a large curd at the top, but the whey was still pretty milky (it’s supposed to be clear and yellowish).  The recipe said if the whey was still milky, wait a while and it will clear up.  When this happened last time, Mister got impatient and added more citric acid and rennet (I couldn’t really blame him, we were on a schedule.  I’m not sure why we decided to make cheese when we had somewhere else to be later).  This time when it happened again, he went straight there.  I think the problem might be a little too much milk, since 4L is about a cup more than the gallon that the recipe called for.  Either way, it worked to clear up the whey, although the curd was no longer a nice shape and it was hard to tell whether it pulled away from the side of the pot (which is supposed to indicate its coagulated goodness).

Attempting to pull the curd away from the side of the pot. It's pretty mangled.

At this point, we drained the curds and put them in the microwavable bowl.  This time, we drained them through cheesecloth.  We regretted this decision, though, as it meant a lot of curds were lost in the transfer (a lot of chemists would cringe at the percent yield we got back because so much stuck to that darn cheesecloth!).  Last time we just drained them by squeezing them by hand in the bowl.

What's left of our curds

Okay.  So now comes the microwave part, since I’m sure you’re all wondering why the microwave factors into this.  Mozzarella is a stringy, stretchy cheese.  In order to get it that way, you need heat.   You can dunk it in a bath of boiling hot water… or you can microwave it.  We chose microwaving.

The idea was to microwave it for several short bursts, and knead it gently in between.  However, it’s darn hard to knead hot cheese curds gently.  Mister did his best, since his hands are made of asbestos, but I think we were lacking in the kneading department.

Kneading with a ...spork? A spoon would be a better option

After heating and kneading and heating and kneading, we added salt, then heated and kneaded again.  On the last knead, you’re supposed to pull the cheese like it’s taffy.  Ours didn’t pull very well, it broke.  This was supposed to indicate it was too cold.  So we heated again.  Then it was too hot to handle.

Next time we’ll buy gloves.

Mister decided he’d had enough of this game, and crammed the cheese into molds.

Smile! Cheese dentures.

When it cooled, we tried it.  It’s a tiny bit too salty (last time we under salted, this time we added more to compensate, but it was apparently too much) and the texture isn’t quite what I wanted.  However, it will still be useful for something.  I popped it in the freezer and will use it for French onion soup or something else where the texture isn’t critical.

A fun adventure, even if not the most successful one.  We’ll try again later and hopefully it will work out better!

Luckily, the weather was lovely for the days following, so I could air the car out a bit.  Whenever I happened to be driving without the baby in the car, I’d roll down the windows, turn on the heated seats (it’s still nippy when the wind gets moving through the car) and head off.

On one such trip, I heard a song that I really enjoy come on the radio.  “Awesome!”, I thought.  So I cranked ‘er (as much as I ever “crank” anything.  I understand the rest of the world doesn’t necessarily want to hear my music).  I was having a great time, singing along.  My mind wandered elsewhere – what would I make for dinner?

I pulled up at a red light next to a school.  It was just after 3 o’clock, and flocks of kidlets an their parents were heading home for the day.

Suddenly I realize what is playing on the radio.  My awesome song is gone, and it hits me that all those people think that I am blasting (and enjoy)…. Nickelback.

*sigh*

The shining moment for me, however, was after the herding. Here’s why:

I'm on a HORSE

That’s right.  RuRu got his first horsey ride!  He loved the horses- he smiled and started to laugh as soon as he saw them. I thought I was excited after our last herding session…turns out there was a whole ‘nother level of happy up there.

I’m the proudest Mama ever!

WHO’S SMIRKING NOW, POST?

Damn do I love to collect books.  I have books of all sorts – picture books, novels, cook books, textbooks.  But my most treasured possessions are my “Reference” books.  These are books I’ve found and said to myself “I may need this knowledge one day”.  They are my precious gems, and I guard them jealously.  Only the *very* trustworthy are allowed to borrow these books from the Farm Fairy Library.

Now, I’ve already mentioned that I am fond of the unusual.  I have also mentioned my penchant for handicrafts.  As such, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I’m interested in learning crafts and practices that are dying.  I am slowly amassing a collection of books on such topics – blacksmithing, weaving, soap-making, (okay, that one is experiencing a resurgence, but I still might need it someday),  plus one AMAZING book given to me by a friend that gives loose instructions for everything from cobbling to saddle making to thatching roofs, and everything in between.  This book is classified as “Reference Only” in the library of the Farm Fairy, and must be used in-house.  (One other book is classified as Reference Only, “Lessons from a Stockdog” by Bruce Fogt.  It stays in its protective plastic and only comes out on special occasions.)  A great number of them I’ve never even read, but I keep them because one day I will.  One day I’ll decide it’s time to make baskets and then I’ll be glad I picked up that book about basket weaving at a used book store in Penticton.

Some of my glorious wool - handspun and hand-dyed Romney

I guess when I find my farm, the farmhouse had better have a library.  I know I’m going to keep collecting ‘em.  I value knowledge the way some people value gold.  More so!  Much more so.

Poor Mister.  He really did pick a crazy one.  But on the bright side, when technology falls and we’re forced to live off the land… I’ll be the go-to gal!

It wasn’t the first time we’d herded.  We used to take weekly lessons.  BoBo wasn’t the best sheepdog ever and I wasn’t the best shepherd ever, but we had fun.  We loved it so much, we almost quit agility.   I bought books, attended workshops, and watched sheepdog trials preparing for our turn to compete.  However, our instructor moved to Saskatchewan, and I got a job and thus ended the poor dog’s sheepy time.

Since then, I have been trying to find the time/location/funds to get back on the sheep.  Finally the stars aligned!  So on that absolutely awful rainy Sunday, we put on our super suits (that would be our rain gear) and headed Eastwards to where an agility friend keeps her teeny flock.

The whole family came along on this excursion.  Mister and RuRu watched from under an umbrella.  Mister was also the official photographer (not an easy feat while juggling a baby and an umbrella).

Sheep!

The weather was so awful, the five sheep had to be forcibly removed from their cozy little red barn.  We used a dog to flush them out into the adjacent pasture.  They would much rather have stayed inside where it was dry.

After such a long hiatus from herding, I thought my dog would be a barking, frothing fool.  She certainly grew an inch or two in height when she saw those sheep, and she started whining and, inevitably, barking (she is an Aussie)- but the fool never showed up!  I was very proud of her composure otherwise – she minded her mother very well.

The sheep tucked into the corner. BoBo worked to get them out

Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t the first dog to work the sheep that day.  Two others had come before her.  The other dogs combined with the weather made for some very stubborn sheep.  They quickly became lodged in a corner.  One particularly hard-headed jerk of a sheep stuck himself between Little Bad Dog and the rest of the flock.  He blocked her every attempt to move them.

Mummy, they won't move!

As time went on,  jerk-sheep got bolder and decided to take matters into his own hands (hooves?).  He stomped his foot and made to head butt her.  My brave little girl dodged, then came back at him.  I called her off, not wanting her to grip (bite the sheep).  The sheep took that opportunity to make a second attempt, this time making contact.  Little Bad Dog was certainly startled, but escaped unscathed (for those of you that were worried).  Her confidence was a bit shaken, though.

It took some doing, but we separated two easy sheep from the flock.  I helped her move the two sheep around the agility course to build her confidence back up.

Then we called it a day – best to leave it on a positive note!  After thanking our hostess, we packed up and headed back to reality.  Even though it wasn’t the most successful herding session ever, in the car on the way home I was walking on air.  I’m sure Mister thinks I’ve totally lost it, if he didn’t think so already.

“We chased SHEEP!  Can you believe it?”

“Wasn’t that FUN!?!”

“Next week will be better, right?  Right?  Right?”

This friend was silent for a moment, then, eyebrow raised, said

“So….basically… you’re rotting milk?”

“No!  I mean…. yes… but….shut up!”

If I were rotting grapes he’d be all over it.  But because it’s milk, I get laughed at!

I did try a new recipe for yogurt this morning, though.  I substituted a cup of cream for a cup of milk to up the fat content, and added 1/2 cup powdered milk to thicken it up some.  I might have over measured a bit on the vanilla, since this batch has a bit of a golden colour on the top.  Underneath it is brilliantly white.  The last batch was white throughout.

I haven’t eaten gobs of it, because I don’t like eating warm yogurt, but from initial tests it’s very rich and unctuous.  I am pleased.

I promise my next post won’t be about yogurt.

She named my foetus Rupert.  This was very quickly (and affectionately) shortened to “Little RuRu”.  The other day, another dear friend wondered aloud what Little RuRu meant.  She decided to look it up on Urban Dictionary.

Urban Dictionary, you ruin everything.

Four definitions popped up.  The first one was, shall we say, far from flattering.  I won’t post it, if you’re curious you will just have to go look it up yourself.  The second, while more acceptable, claimed RuRu was a girl.  This is clearly not the case (although when given the name we didn’t know he was a boy).  As seems to be the case with many terms on Urban Dictionary, the third was also not repeatable.

But then, a glimmer of light.  The fourth was kindof awesome!  “Ruru – the King of the Pirates”.

This whole exchange got me wondering about what RuRu might actually mean.  So, I turned to the internets.

Disappointingly, I couldn’t find anything that would back up RuRu’s claim to the Pirate crown.  Apparently Urban Dictionary is the only one who would recognize his birthright.  My dreams of being the mother of royalty quickly faded.

Luckily, Urban Dictionary was also the only one to offer any of the other (inappropriate) definitions.  Apparently RuRu is a Saint in the Hindu Puranas (a religious text).  RuRu is also a city in Nepal, and a character in LEGO Bionicles.   RURU stands for Research Unit for Research Utilisation, and is the former stage name of an Indie music performer.

And then I hit upon this one… and I laughed.  RuRu is the Maori word for Owl.  For those in the back row, Owl is another blogger’s child.  Coincidence is funny.

That IS hilarious!

However, my worries have settled and I no longer feel like I need to pick a new name for the poor child.  RuRu can mean many things, not all of them disturbing.

And the friend that gave him the name?  She can stop feeling guilty for accidentally naming him something inappropriate.

I know this is a very odd statement to make.  Hear me out.

I first was introduced to the idea of yak ranching by Mike Rowe on Dirty Jobs.  The particular episode featured a yak ranch in Montana.  The yak rancher (who also kept bison) extolled the virtues of these animals – they are smaller than cattle, and domesticated yaks tend to be more docile.  In addition, they are good dual-purpose animals.  In fact, they are good triple-purpose animals, since they are excellent milkers, good for eating, and are also valuable fiber animals.  They’re also darn cute.

I love that these animals are so efficient.  Sheep offer a similar level of efficiency, and also offer the chance for BoBo to herd them.  However, I will admit that I like a little bit of the bizarre and would love to be able to say “I raise yaks!”

Of course, after seeing the program, I wondered about the intricacies of importing yaks.  Imagine my excitement when, just the other day, I discovered that there is a yak ranch in Merritt, BC!  They sell breeding stock, but also yak products.  From their website I learned more about the animals that are yaks… Yaks are wonder-beasts!  Their fiber is soft and considered a luxury fiber, their meat is nutritious and lean, and their milk is rich and heart-healthy.

I have no idea whether yaks would do well in the Lower Mainland or on a small piece of property, I have a bit more research to do.  In the meantime- I can dream, can’t I?

Somewhere, Mister is rolling his eyes and shaking his head.  I can feel it.

The reason that this post is so heinously delayed is that since my last post, made upon the evening of yogurt-making, my son has learned to both crawl and pull himself up.  Now, I’m mighty proud of his accomplishments, but it means he can now reach things he couldn’t before.  I have to baby-proof in a hurry, and in the meantime I’m running around after him making sure he doesn’t eat something he shouldn’t or slam his fingers in a drawer or something.

I can pull myself up!

To top that off, last night Mister left for sunny Florida.  He’s escorting his grandmother down, and will return in the wee small hours of the morning on Tuesday, but in the meantime I’m a single parent.

That aside, on to the yogurt!

I’m actually pretty pleased with my first attempt at yogurt-making.  It’s not nearly as thick as the starter yogurt, but that has to do largely with the fat content.  The yogurt I used for a starter had a fat content of around 10%, compared to the paltry 3% in my yogurt.

The little pots of yogurt look exactly the same as when I poured the pre-yogurt in, except the yogurt has thickened.  Somehow I expected them to expand or something.

The yogurt tastes a lot cleaner than yogurt bought in the store.  It doesn’t leave that film on your tongue – I hate that feeling, and find yogurt entirely unpalatable in the mornings due to it.  Later in the day I can eat it just fine.  I’d imagine that the reason that film exists is because a lot of commercial yogurt has carageenan (a seaweed extract) added to it to thicken it up some.  The flavour is zingy, but not sour, and the vanilla really has mellowed out.

Delicious with home-made blueberry jam!

Also pairs well with mango

I still have a few more pots of yogurt left, but when I’ve eaten them all up I’m going to attempt another batch.  This time I think I might add a bit of cream and maybe some powdered milk to try to thicken it up some.  I might let it incubate a bit longer, too.  Mister got impatient and ate some before the recommended 10 hours was up, and the 2 hours really made a big difference in the consistency.

Definitely worth the effort, though (if you’re into yogurt!)