A few slices of Heaven...

Something I didn't mention in my introductory post: I have a LOT of hobbies. This is one reason that I don't get around to actually helping out around the farm as much as I feel like I should. I'm always doing something, but it may not be exactly what I'm supposed to be doing...


One of my hobbies is cooking. And baking. (Actually, food preparation in general, starting from the beginning at growing the food. Y'know, farming.)

Yesterday I decided to make one of my favorite summer dishes, which is tomatoes with mozzarella and basil, drizzled with olive oil and salt. Yum. The first step: make mozzarella. Yes, it would be easier to get it from the store, but why do that when I can make my own? Fresh mozzarella, from fresh milk; it has so much more taste and such a better texture than anything you could buy. We have a big book of cheese-making, most of which have so far remained untried. However, the recipe for mozzarella has been used dozens of times. If you let the book fall open at random, it opens to the page on mozzarella. There is only one problem: for some reason known only to the authors, the directions are deceptively hard. "Add so-and-so at 85 degrees, using an up-and-down stirring motion..." It had been a while since I'd made mozzarella, and I don't think I've ever done it all by myself before. So, I got out a thermometer and prepared to follow the recipe to the letter. That idea didn't last long, mainly becuase the milk doesn't all warm up at the same time, or at the same rate. For instance, it would be 100 degrees at the bottom, but only 90 near the top. Which temperature should I pay attention to? Should it all be the same temperature? How could I make it all be the same temperature, anyway? Ack! I looked back to the recipe, and noticed that it also had little notes such as "curds should be starting to form," or "the whey should be clear; if not, let it sit for a bit longer" as well as the nitpicky temperature guidelines. I gave up on the temperature with a sigh of relief and simply added things when it looked right. I poured off and squeezed out the whey, and lo and behold, out came stretchy, shiny mozzarella!!

After making the cheese, the next step was to pick some tomatoes. This is the opposite of the mozzarella-making; instead of deceptively hard, it is deceptively easy. Just head out to the greenhouse, pick a few tomatoes, come back in. Yeah, right. Inside the greenhouse, the tomatoes have had an easy, pampered life - at least, compared to the fight for survival that growing outside is for many of our plants. (Don't even talk to me about our potatoes.) As a result, they have gotten taller than my dad. Way taller; they probably reach about ten feet. And they have lots of vines and leaves; it's a jungle in there! After much careful stepping, reaching, and stretching, I managed to pick two large, perfectly ripe tomatoes from the very edge. I have no idea how many more tomatoes lurk in the dark depths, but I have a feeling it's a lot.

So. Mozzarella: check. Tomatoes: check. The basil was in the fridge, and the olive oil and salt on the table... I sliced up the tomatoes and mozzarella and arranged them in an aesthetically-pleasing way despite the best efforts of Dad. He kept sneaking slices of tomato, messing up the alternating colors. Evil person, him. And the final result of my labors can be seen above.

It was all gone by bedtime.