Fresh Fruit & Homemade Mozzarella

I am not a milk drinker, unless that "milk" comes from rice or soy--although now I try to avoid unfermented soy because it contains phytoestrogens. Nonetheless, a week and a half ago I bought a 1/2 gallon of raw cow's milk, the white stuff that's illegal to sell for human consumption in many states. This was not the Arizona raw milk that we sell at my work for a whopping $12.99 a gallon, but milk from some Texas cows. It still cost me five bucks. People are willing to pay the high prices, though, because it's apparently amazing stuff, rich in nutrients, enzymes, antibodies, and beneficial bacteria. Many people who thought they were lactose intolerant can drink raw milk. We actually reserve several gallons a week for our loyal customers and call them when the delivery comes in.

So Nate and I decided to try some. He initially wanted to make butter and I just wanted to drink it. He drank some and it made his tummy rumble, and I got scared that the same thing would happen to me. (I've heard that even seasoned milk drinkers have a different effect from this Texas milk, so I think I'll try the AZ kind next time). We ended up making homemade mozzarella cheese. It turned out a little rubbery (next time: less rennet and a little more salt), but it was fun and easy to do. There are several different recipes online to try. Below are some pics of the process and also some of the lovely produce I brought home from work. Don't those blushing apricots look beautiful? They're as soft as the butt of an angel. And that baby watermelon--so cute! In fact, after all this dairy talk, I'm actually thinking about doing a watermelon fast.




(The String Cheese Incident)

Road Trippin'

Wednesday: my other day off. Praise Jah! I have time to blog. Just got back (on Monday) from a little jaunt up to Northern AZ. Nate and I toured Flagstaff, Sedona, and Jerome. Here's the report:

Flagstaff is a one-dreaded sixty year-old white man (his dreads so natty they're fuzed into one) hopping around to some live dub music in a sub-alpine meadow, a feather stuck in his hair. His partner is a Native woman--Hopi? With black hair down past her ass. Her name is Shivering Birch. The two of them dance barefoot in thin green grass that is as soft as hair, trying not to step on the lupines. Humphrey's Peak rises up behind them.

Sedona is a tourist town with overpriced Mexican food and one too many Reiki Masters. But that doesn't bother you; you're there to climb the red rocks. You're there to hear the call of the raven, chase lizards, admire the mottled bark of the manzanita. And you do.

Jerome, an old mining town, is really just a bunch of crumbling buildings teetering on the edge of a cliff. Some of the buildings are art galleries and curio shops, some are bars; there's a candy shop and a cafe. In Jerome you can take pictures of the half-rotten buildings, taste some wines, and eat a haunted hamburger. What more could you ask for? Oh, there is the Puscifer store owned by Maynard James Keenan...too bad it's closed on Mondays.