Sometimes my housekeeping verges on the schizophrenic. Instead of sorting the laundry that's been on my floor for a week, let's make butter!
The rationale behind this decision? The insane amount of cream we bought for Thanksgiving that was subsequently left over. We went to the big box store, of course, and the conversation went something like this:
"So I need three-quarters of a cup per pie, times four pies..."
"That's three cups. And I need a cup and a half"
"And we need enough to whip to top the pies."
"So should we get an extra half-gallon, just in case?"
"...I guess it can't hurt."
Well, yes, it can. Quite a lot, actually, when you can't bear to throw it away. So, this morning I poured some into a mason jar and started shaking. Small Person got into the act, too. Alas, her assistance was short-lived; those wee arms tire quickly.
So I shook and shook and shook and shook and shook. And shook. And then I shook some more. Then, all of a sudden, the frothy whipped cream started to come together. A few more shakes, and it was all one mass of butter floating in sweet buttermilk. Yum!
Butter went into the fridge, buttermilk was added to the Sunday morning waffle breakfast. What went on the waffles? Butter, of course! More yum! The resulting full tummies felt marginally better than slurping the stuff straight from the carton.
We spent the rest of the day working off the dairy fat in the garden. There was a ton of weeding to do, plus the weekly compost rotation, then some green onions and radishes to plant.
We wrapped up the day with a birthday celebration, for which I offered to make a cake. A non-sugar, diabetic-friendly cake. No problem!
Meatloaf cake with mashed potato frosting, garnished with broccoli florets and, the kicker, bacon rosettes. Even more yum! Just what we needed to complete the eating holiday.
At least I didn't have to do any shopping this weekend!