spills and near spills 267/366

"Don't cry over spilled milk."
that thought came to mind as soon as this happened tonight:

Maybe because it has been one of those days when I have held back tears. They lurked throughout the day, including while I was waiting in line at DQ for supper (because I decided to eat my feelings rather than identify and acknowledge and address them.) Those tears are confusing and frustrating because it's been a good day! There is no "reason" for them to try and spoil it by threatening to spill from my eyes, stop up my nose and leave my face all red and splotchy. 

Back to the spilled milk.

I like yogurt. 

I especially like Greek yogurt.

It is thick and creamy and oh so yummy.

It is also a little pricey so in the interest economics I purchased a yogurt maker. It cuts the price to less than half and is easy to use. You take 1/2 cup plain yogurt and set it on the counter so it gets close to room temperature while you warm 5 cups of milk (your choice of milk fat percentage) to 185 degrees. You allow the warmed milk to cool to 110 degrees, wisk in the starter and allow it to sit in the yogurt maker for 8-10 hours. Then you pour the concoction into a strainer to drain put it in the fridge for 2 hours (for Greek yogurt) and voila! 

In the place of milk you now have thick, creamy yogurt and whey. I tried to use the whey to make oatmeal one time. It's really strong and changes the taste so I didn't repeat that experiment. Now I keep the whey to pour over the dogs food. They like it and nothing goes to waste.

Today, I killed it.

Literally.

I killed the yogurt.

I followed all the steps correctly up to "allow to cool to 110 degrees." I have done this dozens of times. This morning I simply zoned out. As soon as I finished heating the milk, I whisked in the starter, poured it into the yogurt maker and as I moved toward the library to have my time alone with Jesus I realized what I had done. I thought "maybe it won't matter. Maybe it will still work." So I let it go through the process all day. As soon as I lifted the blue container out of the cooker, I knew for sure. I killed the starter. And as I poured it into the strainer, thinking maybe I could salvage part of it, some spilled on the counter. And that's when "don't cry over spilled milk" flashed through my brain, loudly, on repeat. Now, instead of whey, the dogs will have fermented milk over their food. I hope they like it.