Nanowrimo word count 739 running total 27865
We should feed the good bacteria in our guts as it helps to keep Covid-19 at bay. Fermented foods like yoghurt are especially good. That was the advice of a specialist on television yesterday. I decided to make my own yoghurt which is not new to me, I learned in the 60s. The recommendation is to eat full-fat yoghurt, but I only have half-fat milk in my fridge so I thought I would use it. This is the method.
1 cup of milk, boiled and cooled until lukewarm.
Add I heaped teaspoon of yoghurt (I have Greek-style natural that I buy every week) and mix thoroughly.
Put in a warm place for about eight hours or overnight. I used a flask, wrapped it in a small throw and put it into a cupboard I don’t open much. The yoghurt was a bit stretchy but delicious.
I was reminded of my aunt, a lovely lady, making yoghurt in my maternal grandmother’s house. She sat on a low stool under the slatted steps that led to the flat roof. She had boiled the three litres of milk and was stirring it to cool it to the right temperature which she gauged with her finger. Once it was at the right temperature, she poured in the starter, mixed it and moved the pot into the corner, covering it for the night with an old blanket—home-made yoghurt for breakfast.
Looking from where my aunt sat, on her left-hand side, the front door was about twelve feet away. On the right side of it was a manger for the cow. I remember my aunt placing a massive piece of rock salt in front of the cow. I had come from the centre of Glasgow. Keeping your cow in your house seemed strange to me. Every day the cow was taken to my uncles’ new property where there was open air and grass under her feet. Every evening the cow was walked back to the house in the village. My aunt was called Slinder Kaur, the full name was a term of courtesy. No-one called her Slinder. To me, she was Mamiji (the younger), the title for your mother’s brother’s wife. She is dead now, but I can see her in my mind stirring the pot of milk to make yoghurt.
2 thoughts on “Making Yoghurt: November 19th”
Your memoir is quite unique ‘stirring up ‘ memories of a life in the Punjab that is very moving in many ways, the experiences of a young girl from Glasgow.
It’s the writing of the memories down that seems to be helpful. Amazing what we all have in our heads 🙂