The CPJE: 29 weeks

29w: Today is our 5th anniversary! It's hubbs first time home for an anniversary in four years, so we celebrated big. He had plans, and it was all a surprise. (We actually celebrated a day ear;y because he had duty on Sunday).

On Thursday morning I woke up to a text from hubbs telling me to check my email. My email contained an appointment confirmation for a prenatal massage at 230pm. I did my homework, ran some errands, and went to the most magical hour of my life. Afterward, I raced home, packed my bag, and we drove to Hillcrest. We checked into a B&B then headed off to a great dinner at something psuedo-Italian. They served most everything in mason jars and we even got a complimentary toast of champagne (ginger beer for me!) and a small chocolate mousse for dessert. We did, however, get cheated out of our leftovers (the guy forgot about them and never brought them back to our table) which was a bummer but overall the night was great. We conked out early, you know, because we party hardy these days.

Friday morning, we found out we got approved for the birthing center!!!!!!!  We devoured the breakfast bar of fresh fruit, cereal and muffins then headed off to Balboa park to see the Ripley's Believe it or Not exhibit and the Timkin. We headed off to our favorite bar to have dinner, played pool and shuffleboard, and then settled on the couch for movies. (The above picture is the best you get when hubbs is a little drunky, btw.)  I did absolutely nothing for the rest of the weekend. And it was good.

29w5d: Had my first appointment at the birth center today. The midwife I met, Roberta, looks like the world's best grandmother :) She was really sweet and I liked her instantly. She felt my belly and said it feels like the baby is sort of at an angle, facing forward, with his head on my left side of belly button and his feet in my right side. That explains why my right side has been so tender - its where he's been kicking the most. The "eggbelly" lump that he pushes through the front of my belly must be his head. Egghead. Figures.

I have exams all next week, finals the week after, and then I am DONE for the summer and focus on baby baby baby! I spent alllll day yesterday packing up crafts and cleaning up the nursery. I didn't get it all done, but I feel good that I got as much done as I did. It's a start.

The CPJE: 27 Weeks

Here we are, the end of the second trimester is quickly approaching!

Baby Dojo has developed two types of movement: kicking/punching/twitching and summersaulting/pushing through my belly button. All of which are visible. The kicking/punching/twitching is nothing new, just getting ever so frequent and is visible through my clothing. In fact, he is punching/kicking/twitching so hard that it makes my hand jump if I'm holding my belly.

The summersaulting, however, is enough to make me stop in my tracks. I dont know exactly what he is doing, but he moves around in such a way that I sometimes get motion sickness just sitting still. When this feeling comes on, I know that if I look down I'll have Quasi Moto belly where a great part of him is sticking out in a weird way. And if I watch long enough, that lump will visibly move across my skin. It feels as though he's trying to push through the front/side of my belly. This week, he's riding low and heavy and I feel like I need to walk around holding my belly up. Oh the waddle.

And sleep? What's that? I'm getting weird back pain and just can't get comfortable. I toss and turn like a rotisserie chicken during the night, and am still waking up at 3-4 a.m. I have to stop several times a day and, bending at the waist, rest my arms and head on the counter or the bed or the back of the couch so that I can stretch my back. If I decide to get pregnant again, I think I should become a weight trainer so that I am strong enough to handle this ball on my belly. I'm not used to being this weak (no jokes, please). I really think I've had trouble gaining weight (according to the scales) because I'm actually losing all of my muscles. I'm going to be spaghetti limbs here in a little while, I swear.

Since strawberries have been on sale the last two weeks, I've probably eaten my weight in them. And grapes. And chicken salad. And potato chips with onion dip. And I discovered Sprout's Oat Bran bread - holy mama that stuff is goooood. I just wish they accepted WIC, because I'd do nearly all of my shopping there now. As it is, I have to go to three stores every week (Sprouts for their fruit, and now bread; the commissary for paper goods, OJ, and WIC stuff; and Trader Joe's for everything else! When did this get so complicated?!) But I digress...

Of course, I failed the 3-week-early glucose test and had to take the 3-hour test. Which meant I had to fast for 12 hours, go to the hospital, get my base blood drawn, then drink down a thick red goo and wait an hour. Get blood drawn again, wait an hour, draw blood, wait an hour, and draw blood a fourth time - all without eating. When all was said and done, it was 15 hours without food. I was light headed, nauseated and uncomfortable the whole time. I got through until about 10 minutes before my last blood draw and then had to run to the bathroom to get sick. I was terrified they'd make me reschedule and do it all over again, but since I was so close to the last draw they let me go ahead and finish it. Fingers crossed that I don't fail this one!

Overall, though, I'm feeling good and staying positive and trying to enjoy it all. I spend a lot of time every day just staring at my belly and watching Dojo move around. He's more active this week than he has been ever before.

The cabinetry in the guest room is almost done. I bought storage baskets for my crafts. Which means I am "that much" closer to start work in the nursery! It's going to be a busy weekend. Woot! And hubbs passed his weigh-in (with a few pounds to spare) so he is on top of the world and excited for the future!

The Crappiest Pregnancy Journal Ever: The First 26 Weeks in a Nutshell

I think about writing a lot, really I do. But that's usually at 4 a.m. when I've woken up uncomfortable and am trying desperately to go back to sleep. So here it is, the first installation of this mama's baby cookin' adventure - only about two-thirds of the way through....sigh...

A Recap:

As ya'll probably know, we were being treated for "unknown infertility" for a couple of years before we were given the opportunity to have an IUI. After a few weeks of hormones and drugs and hormones and belly injections and hormones and drugs, we had our first IUI (more on that weird experience later).

4/5 Weeks: We were extatic, relieved, surprised and bumbled to discover that the very first attempt was successful! We were in the shoe department at the NEX looking for sandals when the doctor called to confirm our positive pregnancy test result. I bawled right there next to the Nikes. He scheduled for us to have an ultrasound the following Monday to make sure it was a viable pregnancy, and so it was.

The following weekend, we broke the news to our immediate family. (more about that later, too)

6 Weeks: Oh, hello nausea. I was not looking forward to meeting you. Honestly, weeks 6-9 are pretty much a blur. I was so nauseous - but thankfully not throwing up - that all I could do was lay on the couch and whine. I began removing almost everything from my diet: sauces (which meant no pasta!), salsas (no Mexican food!), spices, tomatoes, bananas. Everything made my stomach upset. I felt like I had drank too much, and was hanging my head thinking "If only I could throw up, I'd feel so much better..." but knowing that throwing up would not make the nausea go away.

9 Weeks: I discovered Sea Bands. I don't know why I waited so long to buy them. We were travelling two hours to Long Beach for Mama Chela's 90th birthday and I just couldn't be sick. A few days before hand, I bought the bands and for the first time felt like I could get off the couch! I didn't feel great, but at least I could leave the house.

We made it through the party, and made our announcement to Mama Chela and my husband's father's side of the family who were in attendance. I spent nearly all night under the heater (it was an outdoor party) but was thankful that there was plenty of plain beans and rice and tortilla chips to eat :)

During this time, just about all I could eat was plain bean and cheese burritos. And cereal. And ginger ale.

Still pretty nauseous!

11 Weeks: Lots of my family and hubb's parents came for Christmas. We had a house full, but decided to host a pajama party for Christmas dinner, so it was nice and comfy :) It was probably one of the best Christmases I've ever had, and everyone else seemed to think so, too.

Around this time, we prepared our announcements and included them in our Christmas cards. Just after Christmas we posted our announcement photo online. I supposed I started to show a little bit, a very little bit. Really, I just looked (and felt) like I had overeaten.

Starting to feel better!

13-15 Weeks: I really started to feel better. The nausea was waning and my appetite started to slowly come back. I started back to school and had quite a bit to keep myself busy.

Thumbsucker!

16 Weeks: My first trip to the hospital, my first ride in a hospital bed and wheelchair, my first MRI, and some ultrasounds. (more about that later) The baby was flippin around and doing great, and we got an adorable ultrasound picture of our little thumbsucker!

17 Weeks: I felt baby move for the first time! It was just a flutter, but once I recognized it, I felt it all the time. Such a weird, exhilarating feeling.

Baby's moving!

18 Weeks: Hubbs felt baby move for the first time! I read somewheres on the interwebs that if I could feel the baby move, chances are he could, too. So every night I made him hold his hand on my belly while we watched TV until he could feel it. I admit, his reaction was a little less than I had hoped for: he looked at me in utter surprise and excitement for just a brief moment, then was distracted by the ending of the episode of Dexter he was watching. Turd.

At the end of the week, I had my first cystoscopy to follow up on the bladder abnormality they found during my trip to the hospital two weeks prior. Bladder mass was confirmed, and stumped the doctors, so I was put on hold for a few days until they could decide what to do.

19-20 Weeks: By this time, I was feeling GREAT. I woke up feeling wonderful every day. I was excited to dress my little belly and get out of the house. My appetite was coming back and I was able to eat some of the foods I had given up earlier on. The doctors decided that the unknown mass in my bladder could be quite a problem and it had to go as soon as possible. They scheduled me for surgery.

While we patiently waited for the impending surgery (and I thought hubbs would go all-gray), we had an ultrasound to find out the sex of our little one. We swore every day that it didn't matter either way. Knowing all of the trouble we had gone through to get pregnant in the first place, we were just happy to be having a little one at all. But... as soon as the tech let out that three letter word, b-o-y, hubbs let out a viking growl unlike any I had heard before. I got a great laugh out of his reaction, and just teared up a tiny little bit.

We met with our midwife a few days later and she told us baby boy was in the 49th percentile and looked perfectly healthy!


21 Weeks: Surgery. It knocked me off my feet more than I expected, to be honest. The spinal anesthesia, I was told, was stronger than an epidural but not quite as strong as what you'd get for a C-section. It was such a weird feeling not being able to walk. Or pee. Overall, it went well and we were able to go home that afternoon. I slept it off for a couple of days and felt generally fine, but it really set me back a couple of weeks. I had been feeling SO good before the surgery, but really had to take it easy afterward and didnt do much outside of the house or school. I had a few crappy days followed by a few good days, then a week of "Whoa, I'm not all better yet" days. Baby was safe and happy and moving as he should, so that's what really mattered.

23 Weeks: Biopsy results came back as "low malignant potential", which means I do not have cancer now, but I need to go back after the baby is born to have it looked at again. Additionally, I ate a whole pan of brownies in two days. I even took it in the car with me so I could eat while driving... Naps don't seem as necessary as they used to, but I still like them :)

25 Weeks: Um, where'd this belly come from?! It popped out overnight, I swear! One day I was just a little bloated and then suddenly there was a baby bump. And it moves. That's the weird part! Seeing a lump in my belly where his bum is poking out is quite the experience.

We toured the birthing center this week and really like it. Now we just have to cross all fingers and toes and hope that our insurance will allow us to go. I met with an OB/GYN doctor as she was curious to do a check-up after my surgery (I'd never seen this woman before, only the midwives). She was a little patronizing (she kept calling me "kiddo") and tried to explain to me that water births aren't safe because they're not sanitary and lead to infections, "you know, like when you get a pedicure."    ...Right. Because the rise of infectious pedicure deaths is a big concern these days...  She made me get a vaccination (which I don't like to do) and take the glucose test 3 weeks early. I wasn't prepared to take it that, I had Jack-in-the-Box on the way to the hopsital for gawds sake. Ugh. I felt like I was being held hostage by the hospital and our insurance. It was not a great day, so please send us good juju so that we can be allowed to go to the birthing center!

26 Weeks: I got a semi-surprise trip from the girls (I expected one, but the second was a surprise!). We had a great girls weekend, complete with mani-pedis, The Melting Pot, and lots and lots of baby shopping :) Baby Dojo has quite the monster wardrobe now! He's moving so much, and poking out in weird places. I'm waddling a lot, too. Oh, and sleeping has become quite difficult. I am waking up at about 3-4 am and lying in bed for hours until I can fall asleep again.

Which brings us to the present: And that's a wrap!

Let's do this again real soon, okay? ;)

Homemade Yogurt

I had three different things to tell you about that would lead to why I decided to make yogurt. But they all failed to illustrate my brain properly. So I'm just going to tell you that I decided to make yogurt. There. Done.

I found several recipes for homemade yogurt and mashed a few of them together, but you can read them individually here and here. The ingredients are the same, the processes vary only slightly, and while the idea of using my crock pot was intriguing, as suggested somewhere else,  I decided to skip that process altogether for the first try.

What you'll need: 

• A large pot with a lid and spoon or spatula
• Milk
• Yogurt starter (a couple of tablespoons of store-bought yogurt is fine)
• Honey (optional)
• Thermometer
• A couple of towels
• A warm oven or a heating pad
• Sink and cold water
• Cheesecloth or coffee filters and a bowl for straining (optional)
• Jars for storing

I heated the milk (about a quarter of a gallon of organic milk) directly on the stove, stirring gently and constantly until it reached ~185 degrees F. I stirred in a few glops of honey (I didn't measure). Then I plopped the pot into a water bath in my kitchen sink. Note: My sink has only a three inch divider in it, so I had to use a wash tub with cold water for this step. If you have a "normal" sink, you should be able just to plug it and fill it 1/3-1/2 of the way with cold water. You don't want it too full or your pot may float and tip over.

When the milk had cooled to ~115 degrees F, I put in the yogurt starter (a few tablespoons leftover from Trader Joe's Greek Honey yogurt). When that was all mixed in, I covered the pot, set it on a heating pad on medium heat (on top of a wooden cutting board) and wrapped it up in towels.

And then I waited....and waited... and waited. 7 hours.

When I shimmied the pot, it still looked like liquid. I removed the lid and poked it with my spatula.. Yup, liquid. After a frantic Googling to find out why my yogurt hadn't set, I figured it was one of two things: 1. Because my heating pad has an auto shut-off feature, it could have been incubated too inconsistently  2. Medium heat could have been too warm.

Uncle Google suggested that I should add a bit more starter and let sit for another 8 hours. I heated the oven to 170 degrees (the lowest setting on my digital oven), then turned it off. I had to take out the top rack to fit the pot in, but did so wrapped with towels. I left the light on, as suggested in many other blogs to help keep the oven warm, and left it over night.

When I woke up the next morning, the yogurt was set and smelled divine! I gave it a good stir and divided it between three mason jars. I covered them tightly and put them in the back of my frig (the coldest area). After a couple of days, I finally got around to straining it a bit to achieve a thicker "Greek" consistency. Note: Save the whey that you drain from your yogurt! You can use it in place of water in many recipes, like pancakes, muffins, and this whey bread!

You'll end up with less yogurt than you started with, after you drain out the whey, but it will be thick and creamy. If you prefer regular, non-Greek style yogurt then you can skip this step altogether and just eat away!

Serve with some (more) honey and a sprinkle of cinnamon and you're in for a treat. Just don't eat it ALL! You'll need to save a couple of tablespoons to use as starter for your next batch. Once you get the hang of this, you'll never need to buy yogurt again! The best part is, you control the ingredients. You can use organic or not, whole milk, low fat milk, honey, spices, fruit - the options are endless. You can also put a few tablespoons of your favorite fruit butter or preserve on the bottom of the jar for a "fruit-on-the-bottom" effect. Go wild and enjoy!

The Ned Relocation Program

This is Ned. S/he has been living in our front door for a few months now. The bottom left side of the screen door frame was not sealed and s/he found his/her way into it. With a web that swept in a triangle from the corner of the front porch out across a portion of our Welcome mat, s/he scrambled out of the frame and onto the web when s/he felt the door open, but then would scramble back into the frame when s/he realized (thankfully) that we are not food.

I would guess Ned is about 2.5 inches long, from leg to leg.

For months, we had no idea what was living there, only that there was a large web we were too lazy to sweep up. And since it was not a widow's web, we didn't care much. It was a couple of months before I caught a glimpse of him/her and I was immediately terrified and amazed. I have never seen a spider like this in my life. Usually just daddy-long-legs and widows. That's what I am familiar with. So I asked dear Google what s/he was. Consensus said that s/he was a Funnel Web Grass Spider, essentially harmless to people. So I let him/her stay. And then I named him/her Ned. Hubbs even fed Ned a moth.

As the weather got warmer and warmer, Ned became visible more and more often. The setting sun shines on our front door almost directly, and I can only imagine how hot the metal door frame must have gotten. When I came the other day, I noticed Ned was hanging out on the bottom of the screen door itself - on the inside of the door, between the screen and the front door. It has been so humid here lately that our front door has swollen so much it cannot be closed completely. I decided it was time to evict Ned. I like Ned, outside. If Ned were to get into the house I would not hesitate to scream and beg someone to step on Ned. And the guilt would set in. So that would not do. Ned had to move.

Not before snapping a few photos, of course.

I had hubbs sweep Ned into a mason jar, and we carried Ned to a bush on the opposite end of the front yard. He gently plunked Ned onto the bush and s/he jumped in. I hoped that Ned did not land on a lizard.

Dearest Ned, I hope you are happy in your new home, far away from my front door where I cannot say Hi to you every evening. I will not be sad if you don't visit. Just send a card now and then.

Pinterest Noms Challenge: Carrot Zucchini Bars with Lemon Cream Cheese Frosting

Most people have to "hide" zucchini in something sweet in order to get their families to eat it. Not me. I love zucchini. I have it on hand almost all year, or at least as long as I can find it. I can't wait to have proper planter boxes so that I can grow my own.

On the other hand, I do have to "hide" carrots. I dislike carrots very very much. It comes down to this: when I was four, I wanted very much to be Bugs Bunny. I asked my grandpa to get me carrots at the grocery store, found them in the lower bin of the refrigerator later that day, and mowed into one without washing or peeling or cooking. It was like the day I chugged cinnamon because no one ever called my cinnamon toast "cinnamon-SUGAR toast". So, I hide carrots.

I don't mind them in curry, stews, tiny bits on salad, carrot cake or even gingered like I had in a local Ethiopian restaurant. I ogle them on veggie platters at social gatherings and wish I could, just once, stomach them drizzled in Ranch dressing. Alas, I cannot. Dear carrots, you taste like ass and that is why I am blind. Scapegoats are awesome, right?

Anyhow, I found myself at the grocery store the other day, once again flirting up the carrots. So I broke down and bought some. And some zucchini. After two days in the referator, I remembered a luscious looking recipe for carrot zucchini bars with lemon cream cheese frosting from Real Mom Kitchen that I had pinned a few months back. Oh my, yes! YES! This is what carrots are made for!!

I learned quickly that shredding carrots by hand is lame, so I pulled out the food processor I have been swearing to use more often when sunbeams broke through my window and birds started chirping. This, my dear readers, is what that damn thing was meant to do.  It tore through four carrots and a large zucchini in a few seconds flat.

I added a bit of cinnamon and substituted apple sauce for the oil, which I read about here to make sure I could go 1:1. I did, and it was amazing. The overall process is simple: whisk together all of the wet ingredients plus the brown sugar. In a separate bowl, whisk together all of the dry ingredients. Fold the shredded carrots and zuchs into the wet mixture. Then fold the dry mix into the wet veggie mix. Spread into an ungreased 13x9x2 inch pan (and spread evenly because it didn't level out like I hoped it would).

It will look a little like rabbit vomit but don't despair. It will not taste like it. (Unless of course this *is* what rabbit vomit tastes like. In which case I may ask to be reincarnated as a bulimic bunny.)

Bake 20-25 minutes at 350 degrees and then let cool, in the pan, on a wire rack. When cooled completely, beat the crap outta the cream cheese, lemon zest and powdered sugar until it becomes light and fluffy. You can either spread the frosting on like a cake or cut into bars and pipe the frosting in neat little zig-zags. If you opt for the z's, I recommend halving the frosting recipe because I ended up with a lot left over. And four extra carrots. Here bunny, bunny...

I thought this was the perfect opportunity to practice piping and I'm glad Idid. In the beginning, they were schmoozy but by the twentieth bar, they were pretty pretty. This is thicker, denser, and a bit chewier than a cake so I am glad I opted for the bars. They were just the right size and easy to pick up and eat like a carrot.

Carrot Zucchini Bars

2 eggs
1/2 c applesauce
1/4 c honey
1 t vanilla
3/4 c brown sugar
1.5 c shredded carrots
1 c shredded zucchini
1.5 c flour
1 t baking powder
1/2 t ground ginger
1/2 t cinnamon
1/4 t baking soda



Lemon Cream Cheese Frosting

8oz softened cream cheese
1 c powdered sugar
zest of one lemon

Makes ~20 1-inch bars. Store in the refrigerator. Enjoy!
 
Recipe adapted from Real Mom Kitchen, originally from Better Homes and Garden.

My Kitchen Window Garden... and how to "regrow" things

     If you've not been living under a rock for the last six months, you know about Pinterest. Well, I think of myself as living under a rock as far as pop-culture is concerned (who is Nicki Min-whosiewhatsit anyway?) but even I know about Pinterest. So if you don't know about Pinterest perhaps you are living under something larger than a rock. A very very large rock. Anyway, this is how I learned about "regrowing" stubs from lettuce, green onion and the right way to root pits from avocados.    And that's what makes up my little kitchen window garden.

      Isn't the "Grow" sign awesome? I picked that bad boy up in the $2 clearance bin at Barnes and Noble a few weeks ago. It's the little things...

     I purchased the green onions (in the tall glass) from my local farmer's market close to two months ago. I've cut them down and "regrown" them three times. Each time, the shoots get thinner and less flavorful, but they grow nonetheless. This may be their last round, but we'll see.

     I've tried to root avocado pits a dozen or more times. Because I always forget about them, they dry up and die. The little bugger in the A&W mug is the very first one to actually sprout. In fact, I had moved him and his buddy (there was a second one in another mug) off of the dining table where they once lived to set the table for a family dinner and completely forgot about them. The mugs dried up completely and the roots were limp by the time I paid them some attention. I filled them up again and noticed this one had a sprout - looks like a spy glass from an old Hollywood submarine, pointing to the right. Since then its grown an inch, I swear. Apparently, they like water.

      Pinterest also educated me about "regrowing" lettuce. I used to rip apart my lettuce leaf by leaf, leaving almost nothing at the bottom because I'd just cut off the stiff ends and toss them out when I made sammiches. I saw a pin that showed someone had cut off the stump and tossed it in water and the leaves sprouted again. (I apologize I do not have the original pin, though I'm sure if you searched you could find it a thousand times.)

     I remembered that tidbit the last time I made salads and lopped off all the leaves in one slice. The stump went into a glass with a tiny amount of water, and in just 3 days I got this:

     Do you see those tiny little sprouts of leaves? Aren't they adorable? I'mma gonna eeeeaat them someday.

Whey Bread

Now that you've made ricotta style cheese from scratch, you probably have a bowl full of drained whey just taking up space in your refrigerator. Well don't fret dear reader, I've got just the thing for you to do with it!

As much as I'd like to take the credit for this genius idea, I cannot. I asked my dear friend Google what to do with all this whey that drained from my cheese, as there certainly had to be something to do with it other than just dump it down the drain (I usually water my plants with "waste"water, but since this has vinegar in it I didn't want to chance it). Clever Google introduced me to Terri's Table, who uses her whey to make bread! You can find her recipe here. Why Terri, I do believe I will try to make bread with my whey!

What you'll need:

3 cups warm whey or water*

1 tablespoon yeast (1 packet)

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup sugar

7(ish) cups all-purpose flour

*I had kept my whey in the frig until I could figure out what to do with it, then warmed it in the microwave in 30 second increments until reached ~110 degrees. I had two cups of whey, so I added 1 cup water at about the same temperature.

I've tried to make bread before, which you can read about here and here, and while the essential process of all bread recipes is the same and super simple, the technique is what takes time to master. I think the key to making good bread is getting to know the texture of the dough - when its too sticky, too dry or up to Baby Bear's standards (Just Right!). The most essential ingredient is time. The last batch of bread I made was dense and rock hard because I got so excited to bake it that I forgot to let it rise a second time before I stuffed it in the oven. It would have made a great crouton for a giant's salad.

Terri says to dump everything but the flour into your bowl until the yeast gets foamy, which I did in my KitchenAid stand mixer. I then dumped in about 3 cups of flour and mixed on low speed with the paddle attachment. When it got to about pancake-batter-consistency, I switched to the dough hook, and, again on slow speed, mixed in the rest of the flour 1/4 cup at a time. I caught myself just staring into the mixer at one point, simply fascinated with the way the dough pulsed and moved around in the bowl as the dough hook spun it around. It was like watching the blob, or some other wild living thing breathe. I know, its silly to relate bread dough to mid-century B-flick horror creatures, but, alas, this is the way my mind works.

After the dough thickened a bit, I turned the speed up to about a 2, which is still pretty low, and added flour a bit at a time until it all balled up around the dough hook and was pretty tacky. I pulled the dough out of the mixer and dumped it onto my floured marble kneading board. I kneaded it, adding sprinkles of flour each time it got a little tacky or stuck to the board, until my triceps started to hurt (which I will not admit was only about four minutes). I rolled it into a nice ball, and then transferred it to a large glass bowl lightly sprayed with oil (I used canola oil spray), covered with a dishtowel and let rise for a little longer than an hour.

After it had risen, I dumped it once again on the floured kneading board and repeated the kneading process, sprinkling a little more flour only when it stuck to the board, for another few minutes. I used a dough scraper to cut it in half (only because I just bought one and needed to find a reason to use it, but a large knife would be equally fine), and rolled each half into oblong rolls. I sprayed two glass loaf dishes and tucked each half of the dough into its own bed dish. I sprayed one side of parchment paper large enough to cover both dishes and covered those babies up.

An hour later, they were were ready for baking. (And I realized that there are a few things in this life that I am completely incapable of: drawing a straight line, rolling my R's and cutting things in equal halves.) The loaf on the right is quite a bit larger than the one on the left, although not completely noticeable in the above photo.

I used a trick I have read about in recipes for making French bread (even though I've never actually made French bread). I put one rack on the very bottom of the oven and placed a baking dish half-full (half-empty?) of water and placed the other rack in the center of the oven with the two bread pans. The idea is that the water will create steam as it heats and will help the bread get that wonderful brown, crispy crust that you find on artisan breads. 

What you get, or what I get anyway, is one loaf twice as tall as the other because, ya know, I apparently cannot cut things in half.

This is the lightest, fluffiest, softest bread I have ever eaten - let alone anything I have ever made myself! I was so excited that I immediately sent a photo via text message to my sister proclaiming how my bread would put Sarah Lee to shame... and then I realized I was rubbing salt in her recent gluten-free wound... D'oh! Memory is also not one of my strong points, I guess. But bread - now I can do bread!!

I see absolutely nothing wrong with the disproportionate amount of carbs on that plate. Nothing at all. 

Since this recipe made so much, I froze one loaf. It freezes perfectly and keeps well in the refrigerator, too.  In the future, I think I may either halve the recipe from the onset or cut the original recipe into thirds so that I end up with three smaller loaves. I am positive that I will be making ricotta much more often - just so that I can make this whey bread :)  Enjoy!

*Don't forget: you can reuse the parchment paper over and over until its ready for the recycle bin!

*I apologize for the off-color photos. Husband had camera #1 at sea, camera #2 is broken and I am left with my fancy 2 megapixel dumb-phone and www.picmonkey.com (which is amazing for all of us uber disappointed Picnik fans).

Ricotta: fail?

     I may not be a great housewife. I sleep in almost every day. I made myself a chore list, but I don’t stick to it. I get lazy about dishes. I don’t put away my laundry most times. But I like to think that being obsessed with grocery shopping and cooking make up for all that. (Which could also be why my husband has gained ten pounds since he came home six weeks ago.)

     I don’t think of myself as a food hoarder. My refrigerator is stocked with more beverages than food, and my pantry is only superficially faced one or two jars deep (thanks, grocery store job training, for facing all of my cans and jars label-forward and sorted by genre).

     A recipe hoarder, on the other hand.. Yes, definitely. Since I’ve been introduced to Pinterest, I have been collecting recipes like a … well, something that collects stuff. Pack rat maybe. A virtual pack rat. I have even branched out into multiple Boards to accommodate Sweets, Breakfasts and other recipe types.

     I seek out ways to make stuff the old, difficult way that takes hours upon hours instead of zapping frozen stuff in a microwave. Truth be told, most “old, difficult” ways are rather simple and when they produce quality food who cares how long it takes? I really *enjoy* cooking, and I especially love cooking “from scratch”.

     Needless to say that I was quite giddy when I saw Karen’s recipe for homemade ricotta cheese, and had to give it a try. I did a quick search for “homemade ricotta recipe” and found a dozen others similar to hers (most varying only in whether or not they used lemon juice or vinegar), so I went for it.
   
     I don’t drink regular milk (its rice or almond milk around our house), so I had to go out and buy milk for this occasion. Since I’ve not done this before, and was bound to fail, I just bought the store-brand 2% milk from our local Sprouts market. I usually opt for organic, especially where dairy is concerned, but figured I ought to be wallet conscious until I get the hang of this. And that, my dear friends, was the best decision ever.  Because, and this is the big disclaimer here, I'm still learning. Get it? I'M A NEWB. Learn from my mistakes!

    So as the recipe goes, simple as can be, you just plop four ingredients (4 cups milk, 1 cup heavy cream, 2 Tblsp lemon juice or vinegar, salt)  into a pot, heat, strain and eat! Um, nope.  Not in this kitchen! I heated the milk/cream/lemon/salt until little bubbles started to form and set it aside for quite a bit longer than recommended. When I started to scoop out the curds, there were few. In fact, I got only two almost-spoonfuls. 

     I thought perhaps I heated the milk too fast and so it didn’t have the opportunity to separate like it should. I decided to reheat the milk on lower heat this time. As soon as I put it back on the burner, my husband came in from the garage asking for a water refill and a spray bottle of vinegar for weed killing (being ever-so-conscious of not dragging his dirty boots into the kitchen because I just mopped the floor yesterday), and when I stepped out to hand it to him he called me out to see what he had done. Because I have the memory of a goldfish, I temporarily forgot all about my pot o’milk on the stove and wandered out into the driveway with him for a five minute chat. It wasn’t until I stepped back in from the garage that I saw my pot boiling over.  ..sigh..

      I dumped it in the sink and started over. Batch #2 was put into a large stock pot where I figured perhaps the shallow layer of milk may help it heat more evenly. But again, the only thing that separated was the skin that had formed over the milk. Dear google, please help!

     I sought out answers as to why my curds were not separating. I found a recipe different from all the others I had found in previous searches as well as a message board discussing various ways to make ricotta. Or, ricotta style cheese, as many of these same ricotta enthusiasts recognized that this method of making cheese is not "true" ricotta, but rather more similar to an Indian paneer. Regardless of what you call it, it is a divine soft cheese that surely inspired some of Botticelli's best.

    Some of these enthusiasts use whole milk, some use only cream, some use only whey from post-mozzarella production and some use citric acid rather than vinegar or lemon juice. Regardless of what they use, it seems the idea is to heat the milk first and THEN add the acid (ie vinegar or lemon juice or citric acid) to make it curdle. Then and only then can you separate the curds (Duh.. curdle = curds). This particular recipe suggested heating the milk over low heat for a couple of hours, stirring often. So that’s the route I chose to reheat the pot full of milk, cream, and lemon juice.

     I do not fault Karen's recipe for quick thirty minute ricotta. In fact, I am jealous that she is able to do it that way. Would my effort had been different if I tried whole milk or cream-top milk? I wonder if she gets better quality milk and cream, being from a town in Canada? I don't trust big-city-dairy even if they have a "California Cows are Happy!" campaign. I especially don't trust big-city-dairy because  they have a  "California Cows are Happy!" campaign.

     I heated the milk, cream and lemon juice (already mixed in the milk/cream from the previous attempt) slowly over low heat. When it did start to form a skin, I gently and very slowly scraped my silicone spatula across the bottom of the pan in a Z pattern (or an N, if you’re picky. Or a zigzag. Or a chevron. Or a Charlie Brown. Whatever creams your cheese.) to mix in the skin and keep from burning on the bottom. It took a while to get to the recommended 180/195/205 degrees (depending on which source you trust), but even at about 157 degrees I could already tell the difference – it was thicker than after simmering in previous attempts. I was feeling confident!


     At about 165 degrees, it started to look a little chunky, I assumed because it already has the lemon juice in it from the previous attempt. At 170 degrees it was quite a bit thicker. With another water refill and yard talk request, I was smart enough to set a 2 minute timer (AND take it with me) so that I could politely walk away from weed-pulling plans and go back inside to Charlie Brown the milk.

     At 175 degrees it started to get super chunky in the middle and at the long awaited 180 degrees it was like soupy porridge. Well, I’ve never made porridge so I don’t really know if that’s true. But I took it off of the heat anyway, gently chevronned in about ¼ teaspoon of vinegar (just in case) and let it sit for 20+ minutes.


     It looked worlds different than the first time, which in retrospect probably yielded only the skin (so I tossed it out). I started to scoop out the curds with a slotted spoon, found it to be too small (the curds were slopping over the sides) and switched to my large plastic slotted cooking spoon, which turned out to be too large (small curds were slipping through the slots) and finally settled on dumping the whole damn lot into the strainer. After a few minutes I found that the whey had drained and met up with the bottom of the strainer, thus no longer straining but rather steeping like soupy porridge tea, and had to come up with a plan G. I had to switch to another bowl that was taller and not as wide so that the strainer didn’t reach the bottom yet could easily rest on the rims.

     After ten more minutes or so of draining, I picked up the four corners of the cheesecloth (as had been recommended in some other recipes), cinched it off with a bag clip and hung it from a cabinet to drain. I,uh, don’t recommend this method because I was afraid the whole time that the door would pop open and the glasses I had put on top of the cheesecloth to weigh it down would come flying out and break in my cheese. Other folks recommended tying onto the faucet to drain in the sink (but I would only do this if you keep a bowl beneath it to catch the whey that drains from the cheese!). Thirty minutes later - voila! Cheese!

    In retrospect I should have let it drain longer than 30 minutes, but we were starving and jumped the gun to make dinner. When I opened the cheesecloth, I found the most wonderful soft cheese and it was perfect stuffed in chicken breast with spinach and garlic :)

Do not - I repeat: DO NOT throw out the whey that drains from your cheese! It can be used, and I'll tell you how in another post... dun-dun-dunnn! Until then, keep it refrigerated (or frozen) until you can use it!

I hope your first try is more fruitful than mine. Enjoy!

Update: I've made this a second time, heating the milk and cream alone before adding the lemon juice and it yielded the same problems. I had to reheat the milk/cream/lemon juice and add a smidge of vinegar. Perhaps my lemons are too old and don't have enough zing, or I used too little juice or heated too quickly or too slowly or... who knows. Fact is, I had to reheat slowly until it chunked in the pot and then let it drain a couple of hours. It still turned out dee-lish. If you have any tips or tricks I'd love to hear them!

My life with infertility

Funny old men joke about a women's "biological clock ticking" but really its no laughing matter. There truly is an underlying yearning, more than just wanting something cute to dress up and call my own. I have a cat for that.

Suddenly, perhaps when I was told I possibly could not, I felt within myself and deep seeded desire to have children. I'd always wanted children, but this is different. Hindu philosophy teaches that all the world was created from desire. This may be deeper than desire. If I could turn myself inside out, metaphysically, this feeling would be the atom of all my energy.

I try not to think about it. It makes me far too emotional. But not thinking about it is not helping me. To not think about it is to not do anything about it, to not learn anything about it.

When I do work myself up to research infertility and its options online, I hang in there for only about 20-30 minutes before I break down. One page leads to another leads to another leads to yet another, and before I know I'm hopeless.

I begin to think that it's not fair. It's not fair, all those accidental pregnancies. All those kids born to those who neglect and otherwise abuse them. All those kids living in squalor and sinking beneath the weight of poverty and Welfare. And then I begin to feel angry and judgemental.

But I have to stop myself. Acknowledge what I'm feeling. Remind myself that what I'm feeling is not fair. It's not fair to compare myself to millions of other women with different biology, different circumstances and different goals in life. Remind myself that it is not my place to judge. Those women are not all junkies, nor abusers, nor unworthy of having a family.

We all know what it is feel love. To feel hope. And to feel the absence of them both.