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Yesterday I started to describe what happened when I had to milk cows when I was a kid. I didn't like to do it very much. The worst part of it had to do with only having one pair of shoes that I wore to milk the cows and wear to school soon after.
When I got to the part about why that was not good because of the smell I started to describe the barn conditions that enhanced that odor. Suddenly, I was at an impasse. I had to tell too much to get the point across. Now, I find that what I have for words is a detailed report that is not that easy to finish. I guess I'll work on it from time to time. It'll be a miracle if I finish. Ordinary scenes are difficult for me to get right.
When I received the milk kefir grains in the mail to start making my own kefir I went to the grocery store and bought some whole milk. It was labeled organic, but had been homogenized and pasteurized. It was definitely not raw milk straight from the cow.
Later, after I had made a couple of batches of milk kefir a conversation about the difference between regular pasteurized milk and ultra-pasteurized milk on one of the e-mail discussion lists I subscribe to. Most of the members thought that ultra-pasteurizing milk went too far, and produced inferior results compared to the regular pasteurized milk.
I didn't know for sure what I was using, so I went downstairs to look at the packaging. Sure enough, I had bought the ultra-pasteurized type of milk. Soon after, I went to the store and found the regular pasteurized milk to see if that would make a difference in the kefir I got from the ultra-pasteurized milk.
I brought the regular pasteurized milk home and immediately strained the milk kefir grains out of what I was making, and put them in the milk I'd bought. I left the kefir grains in the regular pasteurized milk for about 4-5 hours to acclimate them to the change, then strained them out again into some fresh regular pasteurized milk to let it sit overnight.
This morning I looked to see what the results were. It was much better, at least according to what I've been reading about other people's experiences. The kefir was much thicker, but it hadn't separated like the ultra-pasteurized milk had. When I leaned the quart jar over to one side the milk kefir was one big glob that hung together like clabbered milk. This was a very good sign.
The next step was to find out if I could separate the kefir milk grains from the big glob of kefir. I got out my big plastic bowl and my nylon strainer, and dumped the contents of the quart jar into the strainer above the plastic bowl.
The kefir that had the look of a fairly solid blob went straight through the strainer and most of what was left in it was the kefir grains. I lowered the strainer with the kefir grains in it into the kefir in the bowl and swished them around like Harry had suggested, and soon I had nothing but kefir grains left in the strainer. Hurrah!
The problem I have with making my own kefir is that I have way too much of it. I'm making milk and sugary water kefir, and I only have use for just so much. I need to cut down to a pint of each per day, and that's still more than I actually need.
I'm giving the over-abundance of milk kefir to my brother's dogs. I haven't tried to feed them water kefir yet. I'll be surprised if they drink it, but I don't know. Dogs seems to know what's good for them better than humans.
My youngest brother, who is eight years younger than me, came by yesterday with one of his high school friends. There were three of them that hung around together. This particular guy is a typical Leo. Pushy, aggressive, and I sorta have to get along with him because of his friendship with my brother who lives next door. I do what I can.
My sister-in-law had told him about our kefir project. Yes, she's hooked on it too since the last few days. He came over here to find out what's going on. He ain't no spring chicken, so he's more open to better health. In his own inimitable way he demanded that I give him all the facts about kefir and why it might be a good thing for him too.
His demanding ways put a strain on my budding ability to describe what's wot. I was finding it difficult to smoothly come up with the language I needed to convert him to breeding bacteria and drinking them with aplomb. That's sorta what I write this blog for.
Over time I can find a plausible lingo that most anybody might understand, but yesterday I wasn't quite ready, and my temper was rising. Fortunately, my brother recognized the signs and made excuses to return with his friend to his house before murder and mayhem transpired. '-)
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