Andrew Bird and His Lost Clouds

Saw Andrew Bird Tuesday nite. I'd been tres excited about this - a concert up here featuring someone I never thought I'd hear in Alaska! It delivered even though he didn't play "Fake Palindromes". (Was it the lack of accompanying tambourine perhaps? He's sick of it, I bet.) Or the one ("Skin Is, My") that used to be my ringtone - waiting for the telephone to ring - bah-ring, bah-RING, bah-ring, bah-ring, bah-ring, bah-ring... Get it.

He was a small man in Sandy Frink sneakers and a tweedy suit coat; a spinning double-gramophone contraption behind him. He played all the instruments, looping like mad, and then his voice. Oh my, his voice live was X times more rich than on the records - big and clear.

When suddenly I swell at concerts, tears coming up and chest tight and all that, I bite my fingers and lock down my toes inside my shoes so as not to gasp, to control too much happening on my face. You know. He played this one number with the lyric "Here we go - mistaking clouds for mountains" and it was a toe clencher, that one. It was the most beautiful song of the night out of a number of a beautiful numbers. I figured I'd come home and download it to listen to over and over. But I can't find it. Dear god I can't find it. 

 FOUND!

UPDATE - I found it! Or, Jim did. The song is called "Danse Carribe" and it's on a live recording album, Fingerlings 4, which I've just ordered as a real-live Compact Disc that comes in the post. What's up, 1999?

I believed for the first part of the concert that here is a very obsessive-compulsive individual performing right now - lots of tweaking signals to the sound person, motions for the guitar tuner to come and fix, an apparent insistence that his roadie make sure the spinning double-gramophone always came to rest exactly parallel to the crowd... Plus I'd heard a NPR interview earlier - tales de hours of obsessive violin practice, that sort of thing.

Anyway, at one point he resigns, "I've come all this way..." which translates - everyone shout out your requests. Which they do, as they do. He plays "Measuring Cups' and fucks it up, asking for help from the audience to remember the chorus. So, I had to reassess - probably not OCD. I did want him to be a mad weird genius all the way, though, quirks and brilliance. The kinda weirdo who writes epic best sellers without titles, that he's yet to record, only plays live, preferring to break your heart one live performance at a time, not making it available for digital over and over and over.

I've thought about it and I think I can get behind that single-mindedness. It's museum quality.

Frog Spirit!

I very much like this new song Raconte - Moi Une Histoire by M83 from their new (double!) album Hurry Up We're Dreaming.

A little child's voice tells a story about a (psychedelic for sure) frog, "I heard about this frog, it's a very tiny frog!" that, once touched, changes your vision and "your mommy suddenly becomes your daddy and everything looks like a giant cupcake!" we all become "the biggest group of friends the world has ever seen; swimming, laughing... it'd be great, right?"

Without a motherflippin' doubt, kid.

Call me a dirty idealist, but this is what I always thunk about growing all up and having lotsa forever bestest friends, swimming, laughing, singing friends. I guess that's my heaven version to find out when I die - a frog pond full of amphibious people happy to see moi.

And it makes sense that it would be: some years ago a for real shaman said my spirit animal was a frog. I used to dream I was one, very small, and I hop up peoples' legs and into their hip pockets, walk around with them for awhile hearing what they hear, see their world. Then I'd hop away and onto another to experience their world for a little. Very curious, even nosy, this world of the frog.

And from there the song builds epically (ooh-aah voices come in) and it just goes up and up and up.

Really, catfood box?

 

Either this can of "With Salmon" is filled with 1 million dollars or else my lost youth is inside.

Le Fromage!

It's amazing what can happen in a day! Bread rises, cheese solidifies, the world outside gets a foot of snow... 

Herewith, then, are the results of my cheese making first-go-round of experimenting. 

The last time we checked in with Fromage Blanc it was sitting on the table until 530am (or whenever I woke up). At 1030am I opened the lid to the pot and saw the above - the liquid had turned to exactly the consistency of yogurt. 

I ladled the yogurt/curds into three butter muslins small medium and large, tied up the tops and hung them for 6-9 hours. 

The resulting product was a spreadable, tart cheese somewhat like creme fraiche (but less salty) or marscapone (but less sweet). I thought it was nice on bread with a little apple butter or apricot preserves. We had a dinner party Sunday night and Jim stirred some together with smoked salmon, onion and capers for an appetizer served with bread which was quite nice. 

After ladling the curds of the other cheese (queso blanco), I was left with about 6-8 cups of whey, which looks like yellow, slightly murky water. I learned that it can be used as a liquid substitute in bread recipes, so Jim whipped up a double batch of the Jim Lahey/Sullivan Street/Mike Gonzales bread. 

Pretty, pretty whey bread. We thought it was super moist and had a milky flavor. The outside crust was still really crisp, and the crumb was the same stretchy, chewy delicious inside we've come to expect with this recipe. 

Upper left is the queso blanco - looks a lot like cauliflower and tastes bland, but has a nice texture that takes on whatever flavors are added to it - in this case some olive oil, balsamic, salt and pepper. It's a cooking cheese like paneer - maybe we'll try it in bread next time? 

Cheesemaking, Glorious Cheesemaking

It seemed to me that making cheese was just the sort of indoor sport engaging and comforting enough for these cold, horrid Alaska winters. (Why do I live here again?) Anyway, if there's cheese to be had from the long, dark days then, tally ho, cheese there shall be.

I bought myself what is apparently known as the "bible of cheese making books" - in American anyway. I believe they call it the "koran of cheese making books" in other geographic areas - it's called Home Cheese Making and is written by Ricki Carroll, a woman who as far as I can tell thus far (1 day) into (what may become) my cheesemaking obsession (and life's purpose which I might only now be discovering), is the home cheese making guru, replete with her own line of home cheese making products.  I went to Arctic Brewing Supply where they sell cheese making stuff, too, and got a long thermometer, calcium chloride, lipase powder, cheese cloth, butter muslin, and three kinds of starters - mesophilic, thermophilic and fromage blanc - only one of which I was remotely familiar with. Then, on to Fred G Meyer's where I secured 4 gallons of organic whole milk and 2 quarts of low fat goat's milk (which doesn't work, don't buy, zero stars). Homeward!

I flipped through my book to see what I could make with my ingredients, and turns out like 80% of the recipes want some rennet in them and silly me, I plumb forgot the dried calf's stomach. (Actually, you can now buy in tablets, at any rate, I didn't get any - stomach lining or otherwise.) Fortunately there are recipes that don't require this, so I began with a very simple Fromage Blanc: 

First you warm the milk to a comfy 86 degrees which is best done in a warm-water bath in the sink. Then you pour in a packet of "Fromage Blanc" starter, stir and let it sit for 12 hours. Easy. 

Or, 10am. Whenever I wake up...

So, that was as hard as making hot cocoa, so I decided to try another recipe since I still had 3.5 half gallons of milk staring at me. Next up: Queso Blanco.

This one needs to get all the way up to 195-200 degrees F, so it went on the stove. It took a surprisingly long time to heat that high. 

I added - calcium chloride once the milk reached temp (because it puts calcium back in that was taken out during pasteurization? I think, according to science.) Then I slowly added vinegar to curdle the milk.

Voila and holy shit! Curds! I'm making cheese, OMG!

The curds get strained through butter muslin...

Then hung up to drip for "several hours" which could mean more than two but less than ten? I have no idea, but I'll keep poking at it...

Extra credit: the leftover whey can replace the liquid called for in bread recipes. How neato-farmy is THAT? Jim whipped up a double batch of the Jim Leahy/ Mike Gonzales bread recipe we all love. 

Tune in tomorrow for the resulting cheese (and bread)!