I have a good feeling about the cheddar cheese I made yesterday. I think I will try it again today. You are supposed to wait over a month to sample it, so I need to have plenty... that's IF it turns out right. I have the special thermometers required for cheese-making now, and I feel more confident.
Now I have ricotta draining; it's made from the whey that's a byproduct of making any cheese.
All this cheese activity reminded me of something from my childhood.
Every year the box-making plant where my dad worked would give us a little gift set at Christmas with all kinds of cheeses I had never heard of. My parents turned up their noses at these strange little packets of cheese from foreign lands, some of it made from goat milk.
Not me! I loved sampling all the different flavors, and I had them all to myself.
I think Cliff got some of these gift cheese assortments several years ago too, from his employer. Those were fancier, though, with crackers and summer sausage included, and even a cute little jar of exotic mustard. Cliff enjoyed them too, so we shared the goodies.
That's your random Christmas memory for today.
About the previous entry: I know it is graphic, but because this is in my neck of the woods, I want to get the word out about what is going on. One person left a comment saying she didn't find the woman credible, and she could be right. The trouble is, these things are swept under the rug all the time. I recently read the book "Damaged" (another freebie). It's a true story that takes place in England. That woman took in a child that nobody else could deal with. In the end the truth was found out: Not only her father, but her mother and various relatives and other pedophiles had molested her in the worst possible ways. Nobody wanted to find out the truth, including the social worker. It was just too much trouble and there weren't enough people who even cared to find out the truth.
I would rather err on the side of caution.