beestings, among other things

beestings doesn't have anything to do with bees nor stings, other names for the stuff are colostrum and first milk. nope, you're not alone, had to look it up in the dictionary myself, finnish name for it is ternimaito.

we used to have a summer rental way, way back in time near a farm that had lots of cows (and a crazy horse). on occasion, we would get a jug of first milk and mom would bake it the oven. few months ago i went to get something from the market hall and there, in a cheese shop, they advertised frozen first milk. i bought one liter and took it with me to the cottage at midsummer.

you can get first milk only from a cow that has recently had a calf. so basically, you're robbing the calf of its milk...i think i can live with this knowledge, it's not like i have this very often. so, if you manage to get some first milk (now would be a good time to get friendly with a cow, or a person who owns one, or more...) take an oven dish that holds your milk in 4 to 5 cm layer, add some salt to the milk, mix well (be sure to mix it well, the fat (did i say lots of it?) will gather on top) and pour it into the oven dish and place into a 180C oven until firm and slightly golden on top







the milk solidifies in the oven, into kinda cheesy consistency, it should be sort of wobbly







let cool slightly and scoop onto a bowl. i had mine with cinnamon and sugar and ate it too fast to take picture...we did a lot of reminiscing while eating this. i had a distinct recollection that would have had milk in as well, but my mom said that i didn't, she said cinnamon and sugar is the way to go







my nephew and little niece came to the cottage for a few days after midsummer. nephew always asks for pancakes, that would be the american pancakes made with buttermilk. usually i don't bother getting buttermilk but use sour cream and milk instead. these i made with buttermilk...and guess what? buttermilk is the way to go, the pancakes are a lot fluffier and do taste better. and as my dad considers buttermilk as "spoiled milk" he won't eat any...







monday lunch, chicken (or might have been turkey) cutlets in coconut-peanut butter sauce. super-easy to make, just brown required amount of cutlets







for the amount cutlets we were having, i mixed one heaping tsp of smooth peanut butter into 2,5 dl coconut milk, added a dash of chili powder (not too much, mom and little niece don't like it too spicy). had i made this to suit just my taste, i would have added some garlic as well







after browning the cutlets in batches, place all back into the pan and pour the coconut milk - peanut butter mix in and let simmer on low for a few minutes to make sure the cutlets are cooked thru. we ate this with white rice, but whole wheat noodles would be good, too, with some steamed broccoli







dad had caught some more fish that he smoked. we ate some of it "au naturel" but there was so much of it that i had to get creative. there was some leftover rice, and celery (4 stalks, sliced thinly), 5 cm of leek (white part, minced), flat-leaf parsley (two heaping tbsp, minced finely), one quarter of a small cabbage (shredded finely), peel (grated) and juice of half a lemon







mix all of the ingredients and add the smoked fish on top. there was some salad leftover (sans the fish), quite enjoyed it on its own with just a tad of ranch dressing







remember the crazy horse i mentioned in the beginning? well, it seems i've kept having this trauma over forty years all for nothing... first of all, we were renting this place when i wasn't even in school. talking about the the milk and the cows and the farm i suddenly remembered that their horse used to pasture with the cows.

i remember once occasion when i had to "run for cover" into the outhouse and safety as this huge black beast was running after me. naturally, i was scared that the horse would eat me, or something. i don't know how long i was hiding in the outhouse before the horse left but every time we went to the cottage after that, i wanted to make sure that the horse was either in the stable or otherwise "tied".

after telling this my dad says that the horse was the kindest, gentlest and most people-friendly horse he has ever met. dad, this information would have been very usefull about 40 yrs ago! i'm not sure if it really happened, or if it's just a part of a nightmare i kept having, but i have the recollection that the horse kicked the door of the outhouse while i was inside. what a trauma! hmm, could this explain some of my fobias...