—By ALEXI VENICE
Important news! This just in. Bill transferred his hot pepper sauce from mason jars with Pasteur locks to fancy jars with swivel stoppers and labels.
This is ass-kicking hot sauce. One drop would give a herd of cattle the flaming scours for a week! (What are “scours?” Ironically, “scour” the verb means to clean something—like scour the shower. Whereas, “scours” the noun means diarrhea in livestock. Be careful not to confuse the two.)
Why did Bill name his hot sauce “BoneBreaker’s?” Bill was somewhat of a mobster in his prior profession. If you didn’t pay up, he’d break your bones. He was the heavy. He retired recently from that part of the business because the hours were too long, the work was too intense, and he was called in the middle of the night too often. Bone-breaking is a young person’s profession. He’s still in the mob, but as an elder now, just talking to people and patting them on the back.
His semi-retired status has led to more cooking, canning and purchasing of small appliances that take up counter space.
(Why do we own three blenders?)
He loves his new Instant Pot. This food incinerator can cook a pot roast in 90 minutes or cook milk into yogurt overnight. (It probably doubles as a kiln, but we haven’t read that far in the manual. I wouldn’t be surprised if pottery and ukulele lessons started in January.)
Interior of pot. (Why do we own three candy thermometers?)
The other morning, while I was typing a chapter at the dining room table at 6 a.m., Bill checked his fresh batch of yogurt in the Instant Pot before pouring it into glass jars. I was trying to ignore this operation, as I was deep into a murder mystery.
From the kitchen, Bill asked, “Do you want some warm yogurt?”
My mind raced to assess smell, taste, texture and presentation. Who the f* eats warm yogurt at six in the morning? Probiotic porridge? I’m not even half way through my cup of coffee.
I replied, “No thanks, honey. I’ll wait until it’s been chilled in the fridge and eat it with granola.” Like the rest of America. His offer made me suspicious as to what type of bacterial colon-blow warm yogurt would induce. Yikes! Imagine if a person ate the Flaming Scours Hot Sauce the night before, followed by probiotic porridge the next morning?! That would be hard core, double-dipped, run-to-the-toilet flaming scours.
It’s touching that these two food items are stored next to each other in the fridge. I think we need a label for the homemade yogurt, though, don’t you? How about “BoneBreaker’s Yogurt,” or maybe, combine these two words into the portmanteau “Bogurt?”
I like Bogurt because it sounds like “Bogart,” as in Humphrey. Picture this label: “Bogurt—We’ll always have yogurt.” Or, for those of you who like to smoke while you watch old movies, “Bogurt—Don’t bogart the yogurt.”
I’ve included Bill’s Bogurt Recipe because I was curious how yogurt was made—not that I plan on making it myself.
Bill’s Bogurt Recipe:
-Heat milk to 170-180 degrees F for 10 minutes
-Cool to 120 degrees
-Add starter culture (a blend of bacteria that consume lactose) and maintain temp at 120 degrees for 8-12 hours
-Stir and serve soft and warm (gag-spit); or strain through cheese cloth for 2 hours for Greek style (my favorite); 6 hours for cream cheese style; or 24-36 hours for firm cheese style.
Fascinating recipe and process. All of this talk has my imagination running wild, wondering where I could sprinkle some “bacterial starter culture” for grins and giggles. I could sneak some onto the bars and other desserts in the break room at work. How about in the peanut butter jar? How about in my boss’s protein powder that she uses for shakes? If I tapped a drop of hot sauce in her shake, too, she might be stricken with flaming scours at work. Would I do that to my boss? Of course not. I love her.
If you’d like the hot sauce recipe, comment below or shoot me an email.