Yesterday, I wrote about how easy it is to make yogurt at home. It’s just about foolproof – unless, of course, I am the fool in question.
I started another batch last night, because a pint wasn’t going to last long, and we had some of last week’s milk still to use up. We get three gallons per week from our dairy share – 2 gallons of whole, 1 gallon of skim. The skim is usually reserved for kefir, et cetera.
I got everything heated, cooled, and into the warmed oven by about 9:30pm, just as we were ending our evening watching “White Collar” (a clever show about white collar crime and the FBI; I recommend it.) After, I went upstairs to wrap up some work stuff, which took a couple of hours. I took my (fairly hefty) bedtime drugs, and went downstairs to let the dogs out.
As I walked past the oven, I popped it on for the few minutes it would take to go let the dogs out. The went out, did their business, and during that process, I realized I didn’t have my cell phone with me – which was odd.
I looked in the living room, in my office, in the kitchen. Picking up the phone, I started calling it, even going out to the chicken coop whilst I did so, because maybe it fell out of my pocket out there. Frick, no sign of it.
I even went into the basement and pulled the chicken bedding out of the washing machine I’d just started on the off-chance it had somehow fallen in there. It hadn’t.
I called it while standing in the living room, because that was the last place I’d seen it – and heard a faint buzzing coming from under the couch arm cover. <facepalm> Good grief, no wonder I hadn’t seen or heard it easily.
Happy I’d found the phone, I trundled upstairs and went to bed.
About an hour ago, when I woke up, I went down, let the dogs out again, and noticed an odd, sweet smell in the kitchen. “Huh,” that’s strange, I said, heading into the bathroom to relieve my nearly-bursting bladder.
While in there, I heard the telltale “click!” of the oven turning itself on.
Quickly wrapping things up in the bathroom, I went to the oven, which was indeed on – at 350 degrees.
THUS, not only had the yogurt become Too Hot, it had been utterly obliterated and burned to charred bits.
I opened the oven door, and found smoking, but sweet-smelling, ruins within. So, instead of delicious yogurt for breakfast, I gave myself the gift of a horribly difficult-to-clean crock pot liner. Good times!
So – what have we learned today? It’s very fricking important to remember to turn the oven off after only a couple of minutes. That’s right. Don’t be like me, man.
And now, enjoy some photographic evidence of my short attention span: