Farmer’s Cheese

This year, Orthodox Easter, or Pascha, will fall on May 1. One of the dishes we traditionally make is called syrnaja pascha, “pascha cheese.” It is a cheese-cake like food that we mold into a pyramid and eat slathered onto a sweet bread called kulich.

One of the ingredients for pascha cheese is farmer’s cheese. Apparently there are two kinds of farmer’s cheese. One is a hard product that you can chop up and put in salad. It’s closely akin to paneer and does not lend itself well to blending or molding. The other is the kind that they sell in Russian stores. We could not find it in the part of Houston where we lived for eleven years, so the ladies at church taught me how to make my own.

Farmer’s Cheese

Scald one gallon milk.

Remove from burner and add one quart buttermilk (from the nuns, I learned to pour things in the sign of the Cross. Since you’re not supposed to stir this, it makes even more sense here.)

Cover with a towel and place out of breezes for a day and a night and a day.

At the end of the second night, place it in the oven on “warm.”

In the morning you will see a mountain of curds in a sea of whey (unless it doesn’t work. Some years it doesn’t work, and California milk needs to be treated differently for reasons I do not understand).

Strain the curds into a very clean pillow case or tee shirt — cheese cloth has too wide a weave for this.

Refrigerate in a closed container until you are ready to use.

One gallon of milk plus one quart of buttermilk makes approximately two and a half pounds of Farmer’s Cheese.

Does it save money? Yes! Locally, in Fairfield County, Connecticut, Farmer’s cheese runs from $3.99 to $7.99 per pound. I can make ten pounds of cheese for about ten dollars.

Photo: Curds sans whey

David Cassidy’s Birthday

It’s David Cassidy’s birthday.

If the man had played his cards right, I would have been making him a lenten chocolate cake[1] today to share with our fourteen musically gifted and yet unpretentious children. But his loss is my gain. Since David Cassidy forgot to propose, I was available when my husband came into my life. So it worked out.

How bad a crush did I have on him? I learned the harmony to his songs, so I could step in for his back-up singers at the last minute.

I wrote not one but two love songs to him, both of which my younger brother later taught to my kids.

Through no choice of my own, he and I at one point had the same haircut. My mother’s hairdresser called it a “pixie cut” and said it would make me look like Shirley Jones. It made me look like David Cassidy. It was a female mullet.

We also had almost matching purple pantsuits with a vest. I think both of our mothers bought those for us.

I did not know that tacos existed until David Cassidy talked about going to the taco stand on “The Partridge Family.” I still didn’t know what this exotic food was for another ten years.

At his sold-out 1973 concert in Boston, I swear that he looked directly at me at one point when he sang. But so did everyone else there.

I am glad that he made it to be sixty-six today — so many child stars did not — and I hope he has a long, happy and musical life. Even if he did blow his chance to convert and propose.

I even had a godfather picked out for him.

[1] It is still Lent for Orthodox Christians, when we eat vegan. Lenten chocolate cake recipe to follow.

“Forty-Seven Up”

This is my most recently published poem. I wrote it when my younger brother was about to become older than our older brother was when he died.  I was pleased to find “Survivor’s Review,” which features work by authors I admire, like Louise DeSalvo. I made some changes based on comments by peers in Baron Wormser’s poetry workshop that I attended through Fairfield University’s MFA program, and other changes at the suggestion of “Survivor’s Review” editor Sheree Kirby. I had liked the piece when I first wrote it, but I think the changes made it better.

Photo credit: Ann McLelllan Lardas