My local organics food store carries goat milk. For weeks I toyed with the idea of buying some, but ended with a pause, wondering what I would do with it. When I grew up, it was always a glass of milk at dinner, but these days I reach for water (or wine)– all essential to mind and body health and vitality. I use (cow) milk to silken an occasional omelette, in coffee, or to make ice cream or a milk shake. I always think, what would I do with goat milk? (Although I admit a goat milk, lavender and honey ice cream has been on my mind.)

A few weeks ago I was at a friend’s home and was offered goat milk. Really? So I tried it and all I could think of was that I was drinking liquid goat cheese, or chevre. Interesting. D suggested mixing in some honey and cinnamon. It became a deliciously sweet spiced concoction with that slight, but unmistakable goat cheese “barnyard” undertone of sweet hay and Earth.

When an opportunity arose to acquire some raw goat milk I thought I would give it a try. Not necessarily to drink, but perhaps make that ice cream, some chevre, or yogurt. I bought the cultures and when the coin toss came to pass, yogurt won out.

Though of course like anything homemade, I thoroughly enjoyed my goat yogurt over any yogurts I have had in the past, though the recipe needs some experiment.

Why?

Yogurt most of us are accustomed to on the market has added thickeners (tapioca, citrus pulp, cornstarch, or other synthetic agents) added to make them a thick and even consistency– not to mention sugars. If you have bought yogurt that does not use thickeners, you’ll notice it is much thinner, and sometimes even lumpy. To make the consistency weightier, without thickeners, producers will often drain the product, losing a lot of whey in the process.

I have heard if you heat the milk to a higher temperature before adding culture it gets thicker, but when using raw milk products, you run the risk of killing heat sensitive bacteria that makes milk digestible.

It is something that is by no means perfect. I would love a thick yogurt, without the use of heat– a more Greek style yogurt. Perhaps I need to grab a flight to Greece and learn from a grandmother.

Until then, I enjoy my yogurt with granola, a scoop of my own grandmother’s preserves, or simply as a yogurt beverage, full of all those great probiotics.

If you are interested in making your own yogurt, it is fairly simple. All you need are some cultures to get you started (recipe is dependent on the culture you use). Raw milk or a high quality organic milk is recommended.

Growing up in the midwest, I hated potato salad. It’s true. The staple side dish gracing every BBQ was the bane of my outdoor dining existence. It occurred at some point in when I hatched a distaste for mayonnaise.

I believe this decision formulated shortly after I made myself a tuna fish sandwich: In attempts to get the fishy tuna flavor out of my sandwich, I mixed in close to 2 cups of mayonnaise (into a single-serving can of tuna). It didn’t help, and I ended up discarding the sandwich, two bites of which gave me a horrible stomach ache. (Who would have thought with all that mayonnaise?)

Next, mayonnaise-heavy potato salad popped into my vision at every deli counter. There is something about prepared deli counter salads that has always told me to stay away. Is it the resemblance to the lunch line at school? Or perhaps the display that gives everything a brownish-blue hue and make nothing appear to be refrigerated?

Let us pinpoint these moments as the beginning of my mayonnaise banishment.

Obviously, this dislike of mayonnaise, living in the midwest, brings me to my hatred of potato salad. Because we all know midwest potato salad and mayonnaise go hand-in-hand.

It was not until college that I tried potato salad again. My good friend A made me her family’s Lebanese Potato Salad, which she described as simply adding the Lebanese basic seasonings: garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, parsley, salt and pepper. Light, simple and totally delicious, it awakened me to a whole new world of looking at potatoes: Did you know potatoes don’t need to be mashed with butter or fried and dipped in ketchup to taste good?

My preferred method of cooking potatoes now is making a potato salad using the Lebanese trio (trio because in my book, an herb, salt and pepper are given). Sometimes I spice it up with some hot chili flakes, sometimes I add other vegetables to bulk it up, as in this case. You cannot go wrong when you work with these basic, yet deliciously pure ingredients.

Please note: I have recently found new appreciation for mayonnaise. While I still do not use it in a tuna sandwich, I can understand its place in a vinegar-based coleslaw (just a little fat, not saturated in mayonnaise). I also admit that I recently made my own mayonnaise and highly suggest a homemade version over anything store bought. (Further, I prefer homemade because I know I will actually finish it– the smallest bottle of store bought mayonnaise has gone bad in my refrigerator. With a shelf life over one year, you do not want to know what rancid mayonnaise smells like.)

Potato Salad with Corn and Green Beans
Serving size= 6-8. Cook time=  15 minutes. Prep time=  10 minutes.
1 pound potatoes, halved or quartered depending on size (I prefer the texture of new potatoes in potato salad because they hold shape and texture)
1 cup corn, sliced from cob  fresh (or canned)
1 cup green beans, cleaned and halved
1/4 cup olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 cup parsley, chopped
salt/ pepper to taste

Boil potatoes in salted water for 10-15 minutes, until soft when pricked with a fork. While potatoes are cooking, place fresh corn, green beans, olive oil and garlic in the serving bowl. When potatoes finish cooking, drain, but do not rinse with water. Place hot potatoes in the serving bowl and toss. The residual heat will steam the corn and beans, leaving the beans snappy (if you prefer beans more done you can steam them for 30 seconds before you add them to the hot potatoes). Finish by tossing with the parsley, salt and pepper to taste. Serve warm, at room temp, or cold.

It started in a tooth.

In my right canine, it began with a twitch. The pain reverberated from the tip, like a vampire craving a fix, I can still feel the desire. It shook my gums until my whole mouth was in pain, aching for a taste.

It filtered into my dreams.

I woke in the middle of the night, startled by what wasn’t there, worried another would take it from me.

There were rumors in the garden, it wasn’t without validation. In the country you deal with deer, in the City you deal with neighbors– and a rampant squirrel.

It became necessary for me to attend to the garden daily. Really just to survey, not to harvest. To ensure it was still there, huddled at the base of the corn stalk, lightly shaded by the beans on its new bed of straw; Lil’ Red, a Sugar Baby watermelon.

A few days later Red’s friend, Goldy (a Gold Baby watermelon, of course), disappeared. Snatched at dusk, the last of her kind, we never had a chance to taste– Goldy’s sister was attacked one night by the above rampant squirrel when just a child, we do not talk of the day’s discovery. We were told a neighborhood trio came into the garden, helped themselves to a bag of tomatoes, and as they made their way out, spotted our Goldy and stole her away. I can forgive tomatoes, but not the disappearance of Goldy.

The cantaloupes, all but two (our mystery melons that must have sprouted from our compost), are all eaten by us or attacked, again by the rampant squirrel, who has found a liking to the sweet muskmelon’s odor and tears them apart unforgivingly. Thankfully, D and I finished off the sweetest of the bunch, the Sleeping Beauty melons, our favorite, before the Squirrel realized his good fortune. So now down to only two watermelons (and two mystery melons), we covered them from the eyes of thieves and squirrels with a bundle of straw, only making their presence more obvious it seemed. We came, every night, to ensure their safety and existence.

But I couldn’t take it anymore and I think it got to D.

We pulled Lil’ Red last week. Up from his plush straw surrounds at the base of the corn where we had attended him for so many months. We photographed him in our arms, as good parents do, and gave him a gentle washing.

Then… we cut and devoured him. So quickly, he didn’t feel a thing, honest. We raised each slice above our heads, cheering our good fortune, allowing his pink juices to dribble down our arms. Lil’ Red’s crisp sweet pulp filled our mouths as we happily chewed. He was delicious.