Vengeance of the Dairy Fairy

Oh man, I never learn, do I? A week and a bit of cheating with dairy and I am paying for it big time. I'm supposed to be studying like a madwoman these last few days before I start my PT course in Gothenburg but all I can do is stupidly stare at my left and right labeled hiking socks whilst breathing through my mouth. Gah!

Am surprised I managed to put them on correctly

The last time I got a cold was when I left London. Similar scenario: Cecilia stays with friends and starts abusing their Nespresso machine, drinking quadruple espressos with cream, because who can be bothered to make egg latte in someone else's kitchen? Top that off with some cheese omelette and cheese platters at the local winery and some of that organic ice cream down the road and the Dairy Fairy gets her fearsome fairy sprinkles a-ready. A few sneezes from a fellow tube passenger and they start working their magic and BOOM, Cecilia gets a cold. Awesome.

The worst part, however, was the extra turbocharged PMS pain that never fails to impress! Instead of spending Sunday morning brunch with London family and friends, I was a blubbering incoherent pile of excruciating pain, covered in a cold sweat.

2-0 to the Dairy Fairy.

Bouncing Off the Hills

I wasn't going to do it, but then the fresh pack of organic coffee appeared on the steps, as if planted there by the caffeine fairy, so I made some. First coffee for two weeks, with fresh cream from Doris. (I was naughty and took most of the upper part of the milk, ie the cream... Heh, heh.)

Mine on the left, K2's on the left 

Me and the new wwoofer, Kristoffer (K #2), sat on the porch and talked about my favourite thing in the world (apart from my niece): clean eating. Poor thing. He couldn't get the lady to shut up, could he? Anyhow, by the end of it, he claimed to be a convert. It lasted until dinner time, when K1 and K2 shared a loaf of bread made by the mistress of the big house (I'm the mistress of the small house, no doubt). Oh well, they'll come around. I've promised them six-packs. 

The great thing about our coffee break was the insane boost I got from it. I actually started trotting around and ended up spontaneously sprinting up a hill. Great reason to pick up my coffee habit again.  Good thing only the cows could see me. 

Dairy Fantasy II

Following on from the previous airy dairy post, how lovely to see this article on the pros of raw dairy. I really do hope that it is the start of a revolution!

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2011/nov/23/raw-milk-revolution

Funnily enough, the farm they mention is the one selling raw milk at Marylebone farmers market. Unfortunately, the dude below had the gramps stand-in when I was there...

Sexy farmer, courtesy of the The Guardian

Dairy Fantasy

I went round to the farmers market in Marylebone on Sunday for some vegetables. As I meandered along, I found a stall selling raw dairy. The sales guy looked something like Stålfarfar:

I like my men hirsute

He gladly shared his best conspiracy theories with me, along the lines of “the government doesn’t want us to know that pasteurization makes dairy poisonous”. After a non-committal reply of “uh-hum”, I was offered lumpy month-old raw milk. Despite my curiosity, I had to decline his kind offer, blaming it on my dairy-free February. I did promise to come back next month though. Which I will. You see, the beauty of raw milk is that it may go lumpy, but as opposed to pasteurized milk, it will not rot, just go sour and still be very much edible. Plus fermented dairy has the added benefit of being easier to digest for people who can be dairy sensitive.

There you go, first item on my “Leaving London Bucket List”. Drink clotted milk.

Ghee Rhymes with Pee ( and Kind of Looks Like It Too)

When I realized that I may not tolerate great amounts of dairy, I eliminated most of it pretty quickly. Although hard to say no to when presented with it at a dinner or party, it proved to be pretty simple to ignore in the supermarket when shopping. So far so good.

What I struggled with was how to find a decent substitute for butter to fry in. The answer was ghee. Although still dairy, most of the offending proteins and sugars are eliminated when preparing it, making it an excellent cooking oil that tolerates heat like few others (my lovely olive oil never comes close to my frying pan...).

Get your workhorse to fetch some organic, grass fed butter.

Dump it in a large saucepan. Turn on low heat.

If you're bored, watch it simmer and skim off the white gunk on top. If not, let it sink to the bottom and go have breakfast (you might want to check in on it after 20).

Once all the water has evaporated (no more water vapors wafting up from saucepan) and the proteins are starting to brown on the bottom of the pan, turn off heat and pour through a hanky into clean jars. Yes, it looks like something the nurse will collect as a sample.

But this is the end result. Creamy, almost caramel-like in texture and flavour. Delish.