I Love You But I'm Intolerant: Tales of a Lactose-Free Relationship

It figures. I forsake all in the name of love and then he tells me. I'm standing there in the kitchen, looking at him beseechingly, my eyes round saucers filled to the brim with tears. Round saucers that are now leaking. I worked so hard. For so long. Such effort, such vision -- wasted!

Him: 'I can't. Oh man, I'm sorry, but I just can't. No. Noooo. It'll never work, babe. I've tried before, and it's just no good. Really. I wouldn't lie to you. Not now. Not ever. And not about something this serious.'

Me: 'Please! Can't you just try? Just a little? For me? A tiny bit? It would mean so much. And it might be OK. How can you know for certain? You have to keep trying!'

He holds out his hand in a school crossing guard stopyourf'ingvehiclenow! gesture and says resolutely, "No. Absolutely not. I cannot, I will not, eat your sundriedtomatofreshherbsfromthegardenmadewithmorelovethanamanlikemedeserves goat cheese frittata. You know what cheeeeeese (said with great disdain) does to my gut.'

I set the frittata down with a bang. The little cheese wedges on the hotpad fabric mock me from beneath the heavy cast iron pan. Emotions course through me like waves of....milk. How. Is. It. Possible. Howisitpossible that a foodie like me, a girl with more cookbooks than shoes, a girl whose idea of a hot date is to peruse the Dean & Deluca catalogue over a glass of wine, a girl who gets wistful over Montrachet and downright delirious over a ripe triple cream, a girl who daydreams of making yogurt and slathers Plus Gras butter with arteries-be-damned abandon over thick slices of homemade bread on Sunday mornings, how is it that a cheesy girl like me has paired up with a somewhat indignant (ok, I know, that's mean, but I'm *hurt*) lactose intolerant bloke? Madness, I tell you. Love may be blind, but it shouldn't have to be dairy free.

'What is my fate?' I wordlessly wonder as I poke at the frittata with a fork. The goat cheese is ever so slightly golden and puffed, and a waft of thyme and rosemary send me swooning. I glance sideways, catching sight of him leaning against the counter on one hip, sipping apple juice. I return my gaze to the frittata, insert my fork, take a bite, and it's...heaven. A half dozen ingredients transformed in less than 20 minutes into something worthy of gods. But not lovers.

'Honey, what about that vegan almond cheese I like? Do you think you can make it with that?'

With that, the floodgates open. I cry for myself. And for all the fromage we'll never know.

Slacker Yogurt

Ah, making yogurt. The idea has a certain wheat-between-the-teeth je ne sais quoi to it. An act of love and labor that folks chained to their computers for 10 or more hours a day have been known to fantasize about... Well, I did, at least. I admit it. Sheesh. So I figured a little reseach was in order. How hard could it be? Some milk, some starter, a little mixy-mixy, some heat -- and voila! Yogurt! Right? Right?

A quick search on the Web turned up far more scientific hoo-ha than I was interested in. After assembling enough information to write a microbiology primer, I began to wear down. Sterilized canning jars with tight fitting lids and candy thermometers, foamy scalded milk (oof, think of the pot scrubbing) and constant vigilance over curd-forming temperatures achieved in hot water filled coolers or carefully monitored ovens (yes, Dad, it sounds like math to me), lactobacillus, streptococcus (hey, is that last one correct?) and other dangerous sounding microorganisms capable of multiplying ad infinitum behind your back... argh. Noooo. If there's anything I abhor, it's, errr - it's a pain in the ass.

When I saw the Amazon.com link to the sassy little Salton yogurt maker, I clicked it, albeit sheepishly, and chop-chop. $13.79 for a little pot-n-lid-consistent-temperature thingy that would make a quart of 'gurt. Hey, now that's more like it! But, gee, I wanted to do it the pioneer way, and my conscience got the better of me even as I read the rave reviews from yogurt makers from Michigan to California.

Then, out of the haze, the following recipe appeared, instantly piqueing my slacker interest and conjuring visions of mellow, sweet yogurt made from organic milk and daintily topped with errr, wild blueberries gathered by flower children and ahhhm, honey from free range bees. Yeah. (C'mon, I live in Berkeley, and about 300 yards from Berkeley Bowl at that.)

So without further ado, I present to you this recipe, from a fellow self-confessed lazy arse from San Francisco:

"Making yogurt basically involves mixing milk with a "starter" (usually plain, unpasteurized yogurt) and keeping it at a temperature where the "good" bacteria will multiply and turn the rest of the milk into yogurt. Everything needs to be really clean so you don't introduce "bad" bacteria into the mix. Other methods I had heard about involved scalding the milk and sterilizing the containers and everything else -- sounded like a pain. But I found a method that works really well for lazy people like me, with no scalding and no sterilization, and no special equipment: Get a quart-size carton of milk and some yogurt, both at room temperature. Open the milk carton, pour some out to make room in the carton, and add 1/2 c. of plain yogurt with live cultures (like Straus Creamery or Dannon plain yogurt). Close up the carton again, clip shut, and shake it gently to mix up the milk and yogurt. As for the milk you poured out (you saved it right?), that's going to be your starter for the next batch, so add a couple teaspoons of yogurt to that, give it a good stir, and cover tightly. Get an old (but clean!) bath towel and wrap both in it. Place on a cookie sheet and place in 110 degree F oven. "Bake" at 110 degrees overnight - around 12 hours - remove from oven and refrigerate. Perfect European-style yogurt! (For the thicker American style, add powdered milk along with your yogurt "starter.") Best of all, there's no need to pre-heat/scald the milk (not necessary if you use pasteurized milk) and no cleaning (since you make the yogurt right in the paper milk carton straight from the store). Any size milk carton will work -- just adjust the amount of starter accordingly. "

Now *that*, kids, is EXACTLY my style. I will report back soon on the efficacy and truthfulness of the above Slacker Yogurt recipe. Let the fermentation begin....