Living on Air and Yogurt

As the daughter is now two, she has decided that she can live on air and yogurt. Fortunately, she is really into the yogurt. Unfortunately, Sam's Club is way across town, we don't have a membership, so the largest size of yogurt they sell at the grocery store is 1 liter--more than enough for your average kid for well over a week, no?

Clara is not average. Our house is about to be overtaken by the amount of empty yogurt containers piling up. As they're so useful (and so recyclable) I can't bear to throw them away. But WHERE in the entire city of Saltillo can I go to recycle them?

Ni idea.

Thank goodness, I have found the means to make yogurt at home! Thank you Stephanie O'Dea! Her blog, A Year of Slow Cooking, has given me all kinds of other great food ideas, but so far the slow cooker has only been used as a yogurt machine. However, it has paid for itself in the amount of yogurt it has churned out in the last few months.

Interested in making yogurt at home, too?

You will need:

• a slow cooker (crockpot) of at least 2 quarts.
• a 2 quart (or larger) saucepan
  
• a meat or candy thermometer
  
• 7 cups of pasteurized milk--NOT ULTRAPASTERUIZED! If you live in Mexico it might be difficult to find milk that isn't ultrapasteurized . . . if it comes in a Tetra-Brik, it's ultrapasteurized and won't work. Sello Rojo sells gallons (yes, gallons!) of milk in US-style gallon containers in the refrigerated dairy sections (Lala often does, too, but double-check that it is just pasteurized as opposed to ultrapasteurized). If you can't find this, ask around at your local market if anyone knows where to buy pasteurized milk . . . my in-laws used to buy it off a cart that drove past their house in Mexico City (this creeped me out for the longest time, but it shows that it is possible to find milk that hasn't been ultrapasteurized).
• 1 cup store-bought yogurt
• 1 package of unflavored gelatin (this is optional, and I believe unnecessary, if you use Stephanie's original recipe).
  

Click here for Stephanie's original recipe. Unfortunately for me, it calls for a slow cooker that has a high and a low setting. My little two-quart crock only has an on and an off button. On is apparently too hot to follow the recipe the way she has it. The modified recipe I use was gleaned from the comment section on the original post, and then tweaked it to handle my slow cooker.

What to do:

• It's ideal to do this at night, so you can have yogurt for breakfast in the morning.
  
• Turn the crockpot ON. Put the cover on, even though it's empty.
  
• In a 2 quart saucepan, pour 7 cups of milk and the package of unflavored gelatin. Whisk well, so the gelatin gets mixed in with the milk. Set the pan on the stove at a high flame, stick the thermometer in the pan and wait until the temperature reaches 190F/88C, stirring every once in awhile.
  
• Once the milk is 190 degrees Fahrenheit, stick the whole pot in a cool water bath (if possible. Otherwise, take off the flame and whisk, whisk, whisk lots of cool air into the milk) until the temperature drops to 110 Fahrenheit.
• AS THE MILK IS COOLING, turn off the crock pot and take the lid off.
  
• Once the milk has cooled to 110F, whisk in the cup of store-bought yogurt.
  
• Once the inside of the crockpot feels like it might be somewhere around 109 degrees (if you stick your hand inside the slow cooker (not touching the sides) it should be pleasantly warm. Keep in mind that your body temperature is 98 degrees, so just warmer than my hand seems to do the trick). If the temperature of the crock pot is much warmer than 109, the bacteria cultures will die and you'll wind up with spoiled milk. If it's not hot enough, then I imagine the bacteria cultures won't be "properly encouraged" to multiply sufficiently to turn 2 quarts of milk into yogurt.
• Dump the milk/yogurt mixture into the crockpot, put on the lid, wrap in an old towel (not sure this is 100% necessary, but it makes me feel like the crock is better insulated).
  
• Let sit for 8-12 hours.
• Voila! Yogurt!
  
• But to make very plain yogurt palatable, I add a teaspoon of vanilla and 2 heaping serving spoons of honey to the crockpot in the morning (after it's been working it's magic all night).
• It's good to eat right out of the crockpot, but once it's been refrigerated, it will have the more traditional yogurt-y consistency.
  

If yogurt is roughly sold for 22 pesos a liter, I can make this for almost half the price! (My OXXO sells liter bags of Sello Rojo for 9 pesos a liter . . . awesome! Plus, the empty yogurt containers are no longer multiplying at such an alarming rate.

And, if you want some granola to go along with your homemade yogurt (Best. Breakfast. Ever.) Here's my recipe from Better Homes and Gardens:

(Except for the oats, honey, and oil, all other ingredients are optional.)

• 2 cups uncooked oats
• 1/2 cup flaked coconut
• 1/2 cup coarsely chopped peanuts or almonds
• 1/4 cup sesame seeds
• 1/2 cup honey
• 1/3 cup cooking oil
• 1/2 cup raisins

Combine all ingredients EXCEPT raisins in a bowl, then spread the mixture on a greased cookie sheet. Bake at 300 degrees Fahrenheit for 30-35 minutes, stirring after 20 minutes.

Remove from oven. Stir. Break into clumps. Once it's mostly cool, transfer it to a storage container, or else it will harden and be difficult to get off the pan. Makes 6 cups (I don't quite believe that number. Seems a lot less to me, but maybe I just eat too much of it at a time).

Enjoy!

My Latest Trip to Visit the Vampire

I had been waiting to make my next doctor's appointment, as he doesn't want to see me without the results of my latest bloodwork. Ugh. I hate, hate, hate having blood drawn. I set myself a date that I'd do it as soon after our weekend in Morelos as possible. And that meant yesterday.

Oops.

I almost put it off again today, as it dawned on me at 8am that I need to fast before getting my blood drawn. Fortunately, I hadn't had breakfast yet. There was still time to go.

Unfortunately (apart from today, I will NEVER, EVER say this is an unfortunate event), Clara has been sleeping in until about 10. Actually, who knows how long she'd sleep if I let her, as I decided that 10am is late enough and I woke her up the last two days.

Seriously, who has to wake up their toddler? (Again, I am NOT complaining!) ;)

I could have slipped out of the house at 8, got the bloodwork done, and been back home before Clara even woke up, as Patty has her day off today. However, I had not advised Patty about this plan, so running off and leaving her Clara without her knowledge didn't seem exactly fair, especially if Clara wouldn't actually sleep the morning away.

I stayed hungry, woke Clara up at 10, got her dressed, out the door, and into the first taxi I could find. Normally I would walk, but given how hungry as I was, I wasn't sure we'd actually make it to the clinic. The lab is right in the building where my doctor has his office. No appointment is required. Walk in, offer the arm, pee in the cup, fork over 200 pesos, and I'll have my results at 4pm.

Yes, this afternoon. I love how straightforward and easy medical experiences have been in this country so far. (Except for the fact that IMSS doesn't think we're registered and I therefore can't get a tetanus shot . . . but at this point I don't think I should get one until August anyway.)

I could go pick up the results this afternoon, but she also suggested that she could send them straight to the doctor. I thought that was a more sensible option, although I realize that I will have to prod the doctor with questions for him to tell me the few things that I understand from the results . . . sometimes there are perks to picking them up myself. But I'm really in no hurry to go back out there today.

Besides, if the doctor has the results this evening, I can schedule an appointment with him for tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow. Not a month from next Thursday.

Did I mention how much I love how easy this is here? None of this "we'll-send-you-the-bill" crap, appointment on demand (usually), pay in cash, ask for a receipt to deduct it from our taxes and BAM that's it!

We could have ultrasound #2 by the end of the week! Oh, boy! (Is that a hint? We don't know yet!)

Ooo--the lab technician remembered me from two years ago--yikes! Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but she didn't seem upset to see me again. Whew.

How I Love a Wedding . . .

Despite the fact that I've lived in Mexico for roughly 6 years (off-and-on), I had never attended a Mexican wedding. I've done a funeral, quinceneras, baptisms, a first communion, a 50th wedding anniversary, and loads of birthday parties. But never a wedding. And if you've been reading this blog with any regularity, you know that I love a wedding. However, I've never been invited to a wedding in Mexico. Stalking doesn't count.

But, this weekend, I was invited to a real Mexican wedding.

OK, OK, it was a half-Mexican wedding, just like mine. However, they choose to hold the wedding in Mexico. And after Danyel's mother visited, they were compelled to add as many Mexican traditions to the ceremony and reception as humanly possible (or so rumor has it!). And, in my opinion, this was a fabulous touch!

Despite the fact that Clara was asked to be the flower girl (and I accepted on her behalf), we arrived late to the ceremony, thanks to the Mexican tradition (better put, chilango tradition) of spending any weekend away from Mexico City--preferably in the state of Morelos, where the wedding was held. We stayed at Mario's parents' house in Jojutla, an hour and a half away from Tepotzlan, where the wedding was held. We had no problem getting to the rehearsal on time on Friday, and planned on getting to the church extremely early on Saturday, so Clara could warm up to the idea of walking down the aisle. We also knew traffic would be heavier, and planned accordingly.

However, we were unprepared for exactly how bad the traffic was. Despite intending to arrive an hour before the ceremony, we arrived after the vows, as the lasso was placed around Danyel and Cesar's shoulders (in Mexico they don't just symbolically unite the couple in a marriage ceremony . . . it's done quite literally). After that, they finished with communion and then processed back down the aisle. I felt terrible about our tardiness, until I found out that the best man was in the same boat. Oh, Mexico City and your terrible traffic--why do you spread this plague to other areas on the weekend? It's the main reason most of the rest of us don't ever want to live there.

Danyel and Cesar clambered into a cute little car to be driven to the reception, while the rest of us walked 5 or 6 blocks on the cobblestones. OK, most walked, but far too many tried to flag down taxis which made for probably the most epic traffic jam in Tepotzlan's history. Not being stuck in traffic, I thought it was fabulous.

The reception was held outdoors at a site just under the mountains--absolutely beautiful! They went all out, having a reggae band play during the cocktail hour, maraichis serenaded Danyel and Cesar during dinner, and dancing was kicked off with a group of chinelo dancers (folkloric from Morelos--waaay more fun than traditional folkloric dancing, as they require audience participation . . . anyone who can bounce along to a beat (and it's a good beat) would have no problems joining in).

It was a beautiful night, and Clara hung in there pretty well through most of it. The fireworks as Danyel and Cesar cut the cake put her over the edge and she fell asleep in my arms as we ate the cake (and it was delicious!).

So congratulations, Danyel and Cesar!

Thanks for inviting me to my very first Mexican wedding (realizing that it was part gringo, with your bridesmaids and flower girl!). It was a beautiful celebration of the both of you!

No Cheese for You!

We haven't been grocery shopping in at least a week. Maybe two. There's no real reason for this, but it's getting pretty exciting to figure out how to plan meals when we're relying on what we've had laying around for far too long. Who knew we still had those cans of tuna? That bag of chilorio we bought at least a month ago? There's two meals in that!

Friday I had a hankering for quesadillas, and as I can get all the ingredients just down the street from me, I figured this would be the easiest meal ever. Tortillas--we've got 'em! Cheese--

What do you mean the butcher is closed?!?

We live right across the street from the butcher. We couldn't have found a more awesome location for our house had we tried. Our tireless and very friendly neighbor butchers (composed of two families, the men being brothers) work every day of the year from 9am to 4pm. Except for Ash Wednesday and the Fridays during Lent.

D'oh!

Now, sure I am Catholic, but being that meat isn't generally a staple of my diet, I don't often remember the whole mealtess-Friday deal. (As I told Mario a few years ago, it's really more of a sacrifice for me to eat meat than to give it up . . . explained on a Friday evening while I was chowing away on some juicy tacos while he meekly ate his "Lenten special" meal.) As I mentioned already, I frequent the butcher more for cheese than for meat.

But now I need to plan ahead.

Welcome to the real world, Jill.

*sigh*

Ash Wednesday

[Sorry for the vagueness of this post. Perhaps I'll add specifics at some point, but right now it's not quite appropriate.]



You know how things often get uglier before they get better?

True story.

But then they do get better . . . or at least our attitudes change, which makes things considerably better.

For a number of reasons, I was up all night on Tuesday, worrying and upset about a number of things I had no control over. Tears were shed for the first time in a very long time. And it kind of felt good. Except that deep down, everything seemed really, really awful. I just couldn't shake the worries and sorrow that were plaguing me.

Oh, and my back really hurt.

Then Mario got up, went to work, and the sun came out. Literally and figuratively.

On his way out, he mentioned that he left me some money so I could head across town and meet up with my friends. While I thought that this was the least of my issues, I was able to roll over and finally get some sleep.

An hour and a half later, I woke up, and all was right with the world again. Go figure--such a little act, giving me money enough to get across town--was enough to restore order and balance to my world. Whew. For the first time in 12 hours, I was able to shake off that elephant that had been sitting on my chest.

Not coincidentally, this happened on Ash Wednesday. It wasn't the extra pesos in my pocket that made me realize that the sun could still shine. (Geez, I hope I'm not THAT materialistic!) It had been hinted to me for weeks, and now came home to roost, that I hadn't been placing my trust in God.

Had you asked me, I wouldn't have batted an eye when I responded, "well, of course I trust God!" But my mini-crisis told me otherwise. I still want to control every aspect of my life. While I thought I had relinquished control somewhere along the way, little by little I had clearly took back control of my life (yes, in some ways, taking control of one's life is a good thing . . . but thinking I can be in control of everything? Not so much. Not going to go into that, as I'm sure there are people out there who spend years devoting their doctoral theses to the subject).

I'm not a big fan of giving things up for Lent, but this year it's time I did. I'll give up control in exchange for a lot more trust. Certainly, it's not an achievement that I'll do in one day (or month, or year, and then I'll probably have to start all over again), but I'm committed to the process.

Already it's feeling like Easter.

On the Fence

Oh, contentment . . . why are you so elusive?

In some ways I feel like I'm sitting on a fence. And I have a feeling that I'll always be sitting on some spot on that fence. Isn't that frustrating?

For specifics, I still do really love living in the city of Saltillo. It boasts so many civilities that just are absent in much of the rest of the country. I raved about these on my first post about Saltillo, so I'll let most of them stand there, but were we ever to leave Saltillo, I will be bereft of the two communities I've managed to become a part of in the two years we've lived here: first, in my neighborhood through our parish church at San Jose (it's my impression that the churches within the Diocese of Saltillo strive to create community in ways that are painfully absent in the rest of the country) and within the community I've found through my "gringo church", the International Church of Saltillo. Two very different communities, but a means of laying down roots--for possibly the first time in my adult life.

But as I've mentioned, we've lived here for just over two years now. I haven't lived anywhere for more than two years since I graduated college ten years ago. I'm getting restless. I'm feeling the itch to move on.

The fact that Saltillo is so stinkin' isolated is starting to grate on me, too. Now that Monterrey has been axed off the list of safe places nearby to visit, we're left with visiting Parras (two hours away) or Real de Catorce (three hours away) for a weekend getaway.

Not that there have been too many weekend getaways lately--hubs has had to work 12-14 hours a day, 6 days a week for the last . . . I can't count anymore. I know, I know--welcome to Mexico. However, he began his career at Volkswagen, where they believe in an 8-5 workday and 5-day workweek. They spoiled him for work anywhere else in this country, and in some ways we're really hoping to go back.

And heck, part of me just wants to go back to ANYWHERE on the periphery of Mexico City--close to Mario's family, friends, a variety of places to escape to, fresh and varied food . . . man, oh man, there are things I miss from there. Crazy drivers are clearly not one.

But Saltillo's parks and playgrounds--they just don't exist anywhere else in Mexico (in my experience). I can't leave them!

And then part of me gets nostalgic for living in the US--libraries, part-time preschools, just the easiness of life there--it's a thought, isn't it? And for us it is, although I don't think Mario's quite ready for that yet. Someday, he says. And that really is good enough for me. Although some days I know that I'm ready NOW!

But in the meantime, I'm stuck on the fence. Part of me really wants to stay here. Part of me wants to head south. Part of me wants to go north. And wherever we are, I'm always going to want to be elsewhere, despite how much I may enjoy wherever I'm living.

Sarah Turnbull mentiones in her book, Almost French, (her experiences as an Australian living in Paris) that it is bittersweet to love two different countries. Or, in my case, two different countries and two different regions of that second country.

So, at this point, it may be best that we're nearly halfway between my part of my country and Mario's part of his country. That way, here we get a bit of both from both sides. Which is alternatively satisfying and frustrating.

But it is what it is and so it is.