Today is yogurt day.
The plan for the day had originally been to do some extra cleaning, get some writing done, and maybe sort through some of my unwanted crap that keeps piling up in the closet. However, like many of my plans, that fell through. Unsurprisingly it fell through due to my one, great weakness: Cinnamon rolls.
A friend shared a recipe for what sounds like the most gooey, fattening, amazing cinnamon rolls ever. A recipe I was a bit too eager to try. A recipe that calls for yogurt. Vegan yogurt requires a special trip since our local store does not carry it. A special trip requires putting on pants and going out in the heat. My dilemma over cinnamon rolls verses no-pants was resolved when I remembered that I have a cookbook with a vegan yogurt recipe tucked away on my shelf.
And thus began my very first foray into making yogurt.
I am, as I am with all new things, nervous as hell. Despite the calm reassurances that humans have been making yogurt for thousands of years without expensive machines, I’m still certain I have a bottle of liquid death laying in wait. For the next few hours as it slowly turns into a culture growing powerhouse, I can do nothing except wait nervously and occasionally check the temperature.
Still, I am trying to take the entire process as a good sign. I have been cooped up inside my apartment for too long, not really doing much of anything. Is it a bout of depression? Or just the oppressive summer heat? No idea. But I feel exhausted and irritable and lacking in a desire to do more than lay on the couch. Nothing feels exciting or interesting or worth getting up for.
Except cinnamon rolls.
I take my wins where I can find them.