Herbed Cheddar Cheese-Making, Part 1

Now that we've made a couple of batches of mozzarella cheese, I was ready to try something a little more challenging. Cheddar, anyone?

We assembled the ingredients and then I had to heat up the milk to 90 degrees. Half of a gallon was in the freezer, so it's a little bit like melting an iceberg. The other half gallon was slightly sour, which I believe will only add personality to the cheese.

Once it hit 90 degrees, we added the calcium chloride and the mesophilic bacteria. Then we let it sit for about 45 minutes before heating it up a little more and adding the rennet.

It curdled really quickly! Then we let it sit again for a while. After this, we drained the whey off and hung the cheese to drip dry for about an hour.

My husband came up with this contraption. He's a genius!

After it dried, we broke it into "walnut-sized" pieces (I didn't know what size a whole walnut is; James said that they were bigger than pecans, but that didn't help much) and then added salt and some awesome herb mix James has. It smells delicious!

At this point, though, I'm not understanding even a little bit how this is going to form into a block of cheese. It's bits. What gives? Well, first, you put 10 pounds of pressure on it for about 20 minutes. This was kind of awkward, because the mold is both circular and it tapers (or, as James tells me, conical). So he jury-rigged this:

That's ten pounds of pressure via water! After the 20 minutes, we had to do 20 pounds of pressure for 24 hours! So then James rigged up this:

After it fell over once and gave our cabinets a nice rinse-down, we put the whole contraption back in the sink inside one of those five-gallon "Homer" buckets from The Home Depot.

This sat for 12 hours, then I turned the cheese over and it sat for another 12 hours. Because we didn't have a way to put pressure on the disc very evenly, it came out oddly-lumpy-shaped. But here was the result, and it's pretty much a block of cheese!

It's also pretty bland, at the moment. Here's what happens: It is sitting out for 3-5 days until it forms a skin. Then we might just wax it. I'll have to get some food-grade wax first, but apparently that's the best way to age this stuff. Then we age it for, ideally 6 months. SIX MONTHS, PEOPLE!! I'm hoping this is some dang awesome cheese that we'll be enjoying for Valentine's Day!

The Premier Gatannahs

Since I have received about half a dozen queries about my new surname, here's the scoop for everyone to read! :)

James and I have both changed our names before in our lives. James took on his mom and stepdad's surname and I, of course, got married. James' given name was James Gates. Mine was Laura Hannah.

When we were talking about getting married, I had just read an article about couples making up a unique last name to take as a family. Of course, I thought also about Jen Yates and her husband, who had taken her last name... but Hattaway's not *my* family name (although it's my daughter's, and we've talked about that, too). And as much as I adore my husband, I did *not* want to be "Laura Ashley."

Neither did I want to be part of the "Gates-Hannah" revolution. But I think, if you look at that, you can see where we're going.

When I mentioned the third name idea to James, he immediately said (or typed, because this was when he was living in Dallas) "Gatannah."

The rest is history!

Here are some more answers to your questions...

1) How do you pronounce it? guh-TAH-nuh

2) How does one change one's name? Here in Texas, and in Travis county specifically, you get yourself finger-printed, you fill out an application to change your name, you get that notarized, and you take all of that to the county courthouse where you file it with a court clerk. This costs $220, and we were planning to pay that twice. Because we were married, they put us on one docket and saved us some cash!

Once you file, you can go as early as that day to one of the unscheduled docket court sessions and present your paperwork (along with the permission-granted form, all filled out except, of course, for the judge's signature) to the judge for approval. It's ultimately up to him or her whether to grant the change or not.

After the paperwork is approved, you go file it again, and then you start dealing with all of the government entities, credit card companies, employers, banks, etc. that you need to inform of your brand new name!

3) Is Daphne going to change her name? Unless her dad approves it, not until she's 18.

Interestingly, (to me) Gatannah appears not to have existed as a surname before. If we were to have a kid, it'd be the first child born with the last name Gatannah.

Anything I've missed? Let me know.

Yes, I know how this looks...

My parents visited our home town for a while this weekend. I was thinking about their visiting with family members and friends with whom I do not keep in touch. It also got me to thinking about Facebook. And classmates. And people with whom I used to go to church.

I know that, concerning me, there are stories and theories and that very few people know the real deal... but I also know what *I* think when I read or hear that someone I don't know well has been divorced and remarried more than once. The following thoughts have flitted through my mind before, about Hollywood actors or people with whose lives I am uninvolved and see only through the time-lapse of social media:

"Wow. What is it that he/she is looking for?"

"It's sad that no one takes marriage seriously anymore."

"How long do you think *this* one will last?"

"You'd think, at some point, she might realize that the problem is her."

Sound familiar?

Allow me to assure you: I never expected to have a second marriage, much less a stinking third. (Dirty thirdy! Oooh, yes, this marriage is my Ender.) I especially never intended to drag a child through a divorce. It's horrifying, and I don't recommend it to anyone ever. If there is any way to salvage your relationship with the parent of your child(ren), please do everything within your power to save it.

Ross Geller, a character on Friends, would talk about being "that guy." You know the one. The guy who keeps getting divorced. I feel like people who don't know me, and even some people who should know me better, might think this about me. I get that I'm possibly a caricature. There is nothing I can do about that.

This past week or so, I've been singing the songs from "Little Shop of Horrors" because the show is playing here in town, and thought I might not be able go to see it during this particular run, I do like it very much. Every time I've caught myself singing "Somewhere That's Green," it's choked me up.

Audrey's pretty conservative fantasy of domestic bliss sits in start contrast to a description of the "old" me that someone sent me recently: "[Y]ou had so much talent going for you (writing, acting, singing, dancing, directing)... Meals on Wheels, various volunteer work, Global Task Force (which I don’t think you particularly enjoyed but were great at and did as an act of service) and so much more. You were everywhere at once and contributed greatly. So many stories from so many people..." There is another lyric from an older song I heard recently about marriage that says, "Don't leave me hungry for love; chasing dreams, but what about 'us'?"

The person who inventoried this list of impressive things about me did to lamenting "what happened?" People today will ask me whether I plan to get involved in the local theater here. I don't know. It doesn't feel important to me. I'm happy and fulfilled. My time is pretty packed. I have passions, one of which is writing. And I was devastated when I was pulled off of ministry as my marriage was falling apart. I was so grateful to have community theater as an outlet at the time. It served as a balm. And I don't need that balm right now. I have exactly what I've always wanted, and I'm still serving, but in smaller, more intimate ways.

My passions and my energies are directed toward the home. I am loved and appreciated in the here and now for the lunches that I pack and the comforts I am able to provide, and the countless and globally unimportant opportunities I manipulate to build family, and to make our little tribe a home.

I am the same person I always was. I am the same broken person who got married once and then got immature and faithless. I am the same broken person who got married again and tried with all of the strength God gave me to make it work... then at the end, fell apart. I am the same broken person who never would have gotten married again if I'd had any indication that this wouldn't be forever. I hold the covenant of marriage in the highest esteem. I wasn't ever looking for something so particular that it was worth leaving one marriage for. I can't make any excuses for anything I've done. I can only say that I haven't taken anything lightly since I had a child, and that I know how this looks.

But if you could meet my husband, and if you could see the relationship between him and my daughter... If you would sit with me and ask me questions about him, and get to know us as a couple... I think you'll find that I'm not "that girl" who keeps getting married and leaving. I'm not flaky or fickle, nor was I holding out for a fairy tale... But I kind of feel like I landed in one, anyway.

Beer-Making, Part 2: Siphoning and Secondary Fermentation

The beer has been fermenting for the past two weeks.

Mmmm... foamy!

Today "we" (James) just had to do a little moving around. It was time to put the beer into a secondary fermenter for a week or so. Also, we needed to get it out of Daphne's room since she'll be back next week. We ended up hiding it in the one tiny closet we have, so if you come over and see our bags packed and ready to go, we're not really on our way out the door. We just don't have anywhere else to ferment beer.

Gentlemen ,start your siphons!

Rudy checks in.

The yeast at the bottom. We didn't want to transfer that, so had to move the container then let it re-settle.

Two out of three Nuthaus cats agree: Watching siphoning action is fun!

If you want any of this yeast, it's in our back yard. You'll have to sift the wood mulch out, though.

So, that's it for now. Stay tuned for bottling!

Review: Popeye's Waffle Chicken Tenders

So, this is a thing now...

It might be "hot" in the culinary world, but if so, it's been sitting under a heat lamp. Chicken and waffles is not a new phenomenon. It is allegedly a tried-and-true southern tradition, although I grew up in the south and never heard of it until about a decade ago, thanks to The Food Network.

Since that time, I've tended to order chicken and waffles everywhere I've seen it, just to get different takes on it. Trust me, IHOP does it very differently than The Third Base (whose balsamic syrup is both jarring and delicious. Did I mention that the waffles have cheddar cheese in them?).

When my friend alerted me to the Popeye's chicken waffle tenders, I knew I had to try them.

I had to wait for more than ten minutes for my tenders, but at least I knew that they were being made fresh. Of course, then I had to drive all the way home, so I still didn't get to taste them.

What I noticed when I pulled them into the car with me was that they *did* smell overwhelmingly like waffles. I was pleasantly surprised.

This is what I got:

The meal had three large tenders, fries underneath, and a biscuit, in addition to the sweet honey maple sauce (which contains egg yolks, as well; wonder why they don't advertise that in the title).

The tenders were vaguely seahorse-shaped. One appeared to have whose wingy things, even. (Sources say that they're called "fins." Whatever.)

And here's a cross-section. They're real cuts of meat, not processed meat glued back together. So that's a plus.

That said, they're just chicken tenders. I had gotten used to the smell in my car, and the flavor wasn't any more "waffle-y" to me than regular chicken tenders are. Maybe this could work better if they made the fries out of waffles and gave out straight-up syrup instead of honey mustard maple dipping sauce. 

The sauce was good, too... I ended up dipping my fries in it, and they were tasty to the point that I was disappointed when I ran out of sauce before I ran out of fries.

So, basically, these are good chicken tenders... but they're not really discernible as an homage to chicken-and-waffles except when the initial scent hits. Since I live within lazy-person walking distance of a Chick-fil-A, I'm not likely to get into my car to pick up an order of these any time soon.

An Open Letter to Ms. Amy Herzberg

Dear Amy:

It was either 1992 or 1993... either way, it was at least 20 years ago. I can barely believe it. Can you? I took your Musical Theater class every single semester that I was at the University of Arkansas. It was my favorite, and certainly most humbling, class. I love musical theater. I love acting through song more than anything else in the world, even though I'm not naturally a gifted singer.

You helped me learn things about the way music is written for performance, and how to enrich every word, even the repeated ones, with meaning. I remember very little about college. But I remember you. And I remember that theater. And I remember our class. Thank you.

I just thought of you because I heard a song that I tried to perform when I was newly-20. It's a song from the Broadway musical "City of Angels," (no, not the movie, which I've never seen) one of my favorite musicals ever. The lyrics are hugely clever, the subject is one that is close to my heart, and the 40s "feel" is so much fun. Actually, I performed another of the songs from the show, "You Can Always Count on Me" for one of our fund-raiser reviews, and everyone was a little surprised that I could "belt" like that.

This song, however, was different.

This song is ironically named "Funny."

Funny, 

How'd I fail to see this little bed time tale was funny?

I could cry to think of all the irony I've missed!

What an unusual twist 

Right at the end of it. 

Funny,

Who could see that this pathetic scene would be

So funny?

Once you strain to find the grain of humor

Underneath 

Life double crosses with style

Forcing you into a smile

So it can kick you in the teeth.

Just desserts 

We can all laugh till it hurts

At my expense. 

I'm accustomed to working on "spec."

I always pick up the check.

I think it's funny. 

Who could top or make this comic op'ra more

Compelling? 

You could weave in some deceit to even up the

Score.

You'd have us all on the floor.

That would be roaringly

Funny

Sad enough my life's a joke that suffers in the telling.

Just another hoary chestnut from the bottom drawer

I've heard so often before

That I can't laugh anymore.

When I was finished with my performance, you and everyone else critiqued it, we talked about it, but in the end you said that no matter how much I polished the delivery, you would never buy it. You told me that I had not experienced enough life to pull off this song. I wasn't mad, but I didn't really understand.

I understand now.

And you were right.

Hearing the song now, I start to shake a little with rage, thinking through it as an actor. I get where the character is. Much of it is his own fault. He's made stupid decisions. And he wants to do the right thing, but he just can't catch a break... So he's ready to give up.

There is never a situation in which I would need to perform this song... unless someone decided to do a cross-dressing performance of "City of Angels" somewhere other than Austin (because I'd never be cast in a part versus all of the talented actual musicians around here), but if the opportunity arose, I could do it this time. It stinks, but I could. And I thank God every day that I don't relate to it in the present tense.

Just wanted you to know that you hit the nail on the head. That wasn't the only time, but it is one that stands out in my memory. Thanks for being good at what you do. And thanks for helping me realize that life experience makes for better performing all the way around. I find that to be true in my writing, and that's something at which I happen to be a bit more gifted than the whole singing thing, anyway.

Fondly,
Laura

Review: Hammond's Pigs N' Taters

You're not even going to believe me when I tell you that this thing exists, so let's just dispense with the introductions and I'll show you proof:

Yes, ma'am... sir... ma'amsir. Yes. This is a thing. It is a glorious thing. It is so heavenly, it has a halo. That's how out of this world a chocolate bar with bacon and potato chips is. Let's not argue about it, okay? Let's just bask in the wonder.

I found this at Breed and Company when I was there for a Soda Streamer refill (they're still out of Diet Dr. Pete, dang it!). When I got home and checked out Hammond's website, I realized that we're scheduled to tour the facility next spring when we're on vacation!

So, on to the main event:

This is milk chocolate, so it's light and creamy. Since it's about 80 degrees in the house, that chocolate "snap" isn't easy to judge. The melting point of chocolate is between 86 and 90 degrees, so we are getting close. (Incidentally, that's why it has such a pleasant and unique mouth feel; it melts just below our body temperature, so it liquefies as it makes contact with the tongue.)

I didn't see any potato chips when I broke into the chocolate, but I did see quite a bit of bacon.

There was, however invisible, a very satisfying amount of crunchy chip content in the smooth chocolate. Between the chips and the bacon, this is an incredibly salty bar, which I love. This might be one of my favorite candy bars ever, which is saying a lot. It is a testimony to my adoration of my husband that I didn't open it before he got home and that I haven't now, while he's at work, finished the candy. It's just that amazing.

I have mentioned this before, but just to review: When eating chocolate, you will enjoy it more if you don't chew it. Remember that melting point? Letting the chocolate melt on your tongue allows the flavors to assault your senses of both taste and smell, and the result is a lot more enjoyable than if you chomp it up and swallow it. This is especially true as the chocolate gets darker. Very dark chocolate can taste like black glue if you insist on masticating it. But even with milk chocolate, I prefer to let it linger for a while.

With this bar, when you do that, you end up with a bunch of crunchy bit of chips and bacon left over to enjoy after the chocolate has mostly melted, but you can still taste it. It's delicious and fun to consume.